“God! This place is a mausoleum. I’ve had enough!” He went to the bedroom and grabbed a sweater, but when he reached the front door he turned and found that Jack wasn’t even looking at him. He was talking to Beebo. He was saying, “By God, it’s worth a try. I’m going over there. Nothing could be worse than sitting here wondering if she’s drowned in the damn river or swinging from a rope somewhere.” “Oh, for Chrissake, Jack!” Beebo snapped. “Have mercy. I’m not made of stone.” Jack got up and headed for the door. Terry stood uncertainly and watched him approach. “Make up your mind,” Jack said to him. “In or out?” His anxiety over Laura made this attitude of impatience with Terry perfectly genuine. Yet Jack was not without a small sudden pleasure at Terry’s reactions. “How about you?” Terry said. “Out.” “I’ll go with you.” “I’ll be back in an hour.” “I want to go with you.” Jack stared at him, again pleased and surprised. “You can’t,” was all he said, putting his cigarette in his mouth while he pulled his jacket on. “Why the hell not?” Jack took him by the shoulders. “Terry, you want to do something for me?” Terry eyed him like a suspicious five-year-old. “I don’t know. You’re so bitchy tonight.” He sighed. “All right, all right. What do I have to do?” “Stay here. And if she shows up, hang on to her. I’ll be back at—” He looked at his watch. “—at ten. No later.” Terry threw himself in an armchair with a huge sigh of disgust. “Oh, this Laura!” he groaned. “She must be the most fabulous female in the whole goddam world.” “She is,” Beebo said briefly. She dinched her cigarette and walked out ahead of Jack. “I’ll be at home, Terry,” she called back. “If she shows up.” “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll hogtie her and call all the newspapers. I’ll notify the President. Christ!” Jack and Beebo went down the stairs together and out into the lowering night. The first drops were coming down. “What’d you give him, Jackson?” Beebo smiled. “He’s learning how to mind. He doesn’t like it very much, but he’s learning.” Jack shrugged. “He does like it, doll. That’s the secret. He likes to be shoved around a little. I wish to hell I’d known before I bought all those stinking oysters.” Chapter Sixteen It was five past ten and the rain was fairly heavy outside. Terry was curled up in the armchair watching television, eating peanuts and drinking a beer. He was irritated with Jack for being late. He tried to get interested in the film and sat for a quarter of an hour with his eyes on the set, wiggling restlessly, like a child in need of a comfort station. He jumped when a knock on the door disturbed him.