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The Tower of the Elephant – A Theological Interpretation

I have read Robert E. Howard’s The Tower of the Elephant many times, as it is one of my favorite
Howard stories. Only recently did it occur to me that there are many Biblical correlations in the story. Many of Howard’s works include Christian references, especially in his Solomon Kane stories. Growing up in Texas, Howard was likely exposed to Christian teachings, and his study of world history, including the Crusades, would have included much about the Catholic Church.

The Tower of the Elephant begins in a tavern in the City of Thieves. 

Torches flared murkily on the revels in the Maul, where the thieves of the east held carnival by night. In the Maul they could carouse and roar as they liked, for honest people shunned the quarters, and watchmen, well paid with stained coins, did not interfere with their sport…. rascals gathered in every stage of rags and tatters—furtive cut-purses, leering kidnappers, quick-fingered thieves, swaggering bravoes with their wenches, strident-voiced women clad in tawdry finery. Native rogues were the dominant element— 

“Know that in Zamora, and more especially in this city, there are more bold thieves than anywhere else in the world…” 

A few minutes after uttering these lines, that man would be dead.

The tavern scene reflects sin and the sinful nature of man. It is almost a depiction of the wicked city of Gomorrah that God destroyed in Genesis 19. Sin is one of the central themes in The Bible and is mentioned hundreds of times.

The tower in Howard's story evokes the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11. The Tower of Babel was built by men who thought to reach heaven on their own. They soon learned that they could not.

After killing a guard and some lions, Conan and his new compatriot, Taurus of Nemedia, climb Yara’s tower and find a fabulous fortune of jewels, but they are not content with just these; they are after a special jewel, the Heart of the Elephant. Taurus says,

"If we secure the Heart, these and all other things shall be ours."

The Bible warns against greed, and it is one of the Seven Deadly Sins. In Luke 12:15, Jesus says, “Take care, be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”  

1 Timothy 6:9 says, But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction.

Ruin and destruction; that is exactly what happens to Taurus, Prince of Thieves, dying from the bite of a deadly giant spider.

Conan kills the spider, and in a room, he encounters Yag-kosha. Yag-kosha is a messianic figure. Like Jesus, Yag-kosha has a dual nature. Jesus is God and man, Yag-kosha is part man, part elephant. When Conan first sees Yag-kosha, the Cimmerian thinks he is Yara’s god.

Jesus was known by different names–Son of Man, Lamb of God, Immanuel–while Yag-kosha is also known as Yogah. Yag-kosha is from another world who warred against the kings of his planet. Christ was persecuted because he went against the norms of Hebrew tradition and Roman laws.  

Both Jesus and Yag-kosha have remarkable powers. Jesus healed the sick, raised the dead, and commanded nature. Yag-kosha built the tower in a single night.

As the disciples learned from Jesus, Yag-kosha said of Yara the priest and sorcerer,  he sat at my feet and learned wisdom. And then, like Judas, Yara betrayed Yag-kosha.

Both Jesus and Yag-kosha endure torture and incredible hardship. 
By fire and rack he mastered me, and by strange unearthly tortures you would not understand… Then Yag-kosha found himself mangled, blinded, and broken.
Jesus suffered 39 lashes of a whip that tore his flesh to the bone; he had a crown of thorns pressed onto his head; and he was crucified with nails driven into his feet and hands and was hung on the cross to die a slow and excruciating death.

Now we come to something quite interesting. Yag-kosha asks Conan to kill him and cut out his heart. Here we see a parallel to Christ’s crucifixion. The deaths of Jesus and Yag-kosha (which were accepted by both) bring something miraculous–resurrection. 

Before I delve into that, let's look at Yag-kosha’s final instruction to Conan.

“Take your sword, man, and cut out my heart; then squeeze it so that the blood will flow over the red stone.”

This is the line that hit me like a revelation–the blood. 

“By my life-blood I conjure it, by blood born on the green breast of Yag…”

Blood sacrifice in the Bible goes back to Abel in Genesis 4. Abraham was willing to sacrifice his son. It was very important in Hebrew tradition. 

In The Bible, specifically during the Last Supper, Jesus says, "This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins."

Blood is mentioned hundreds of times in The Bible. Blood is a symbol of life, sacrifice, and atonement. Sacrifice plays a big part in the Christian faith. 

Most are familiar with Christ’s resurrection. The resurrection is considered Christ’s final and most important miracle. It is the crux of Christianity, and for believers, is the single most important event in the history of mankind, or, as Yag-kosha put it, “such as earth has not seen before, and shall not see again, through a million million of millenniums.”

Yag-kosha’s resurrection is seen by Conan when he presents the Heart of the Elephant, the blood-soaked gem, to Yara. The priest is startled and begins to shrink. 

Bending close, Conan saw Yara clamber up the smooth, curving surface, impossibly, like a man climbing a glass mountain. Now the priest stood on the top, still with tossing arms, invoking what grisly names only the gods know. And suddenly he sank into the very heart of the jewel, as a man sinks into a sea, and Conan saw the smoky waves close over his head. Now he saw him in the crimson heart of the jewel, once more crystal-clear, as a man sees a scene far away, tiny with great distance. [Or as St. Paul says, through a glass darkly] And into the heart came a green, shining winged figure with the body of a man and the head of an elephant—no longer blind or crippled. Yara threw up his arms and fled as a madman flees... 

Conan sees Yag-kosha beborn, revitalized, and unbroken, not unlike after Christ’s resurrection, when Jesus's body was transformed and glorified.

… the great jewel vanished in a rainbow burst of iridescent gleams…

It has been theorized that while in the tomb, the body of Jesus, while wrapped in the Shroud, emitted a powerful flash of vacuum ultraviolet radiation, forming a perfect 3D negative image of the body on both the front and back of the cloth without scorching it. 

The jewel vanishes, and the table is bare.

… as bare, Conan somehow knew, as the marble couch in the chamber above, where the body of that strange transcosmic being called Yag-kosha and Yogah had lain.

This parallels Jesus’s tomb, which was discovered empty on the third day.

We can see that Yara is in the role of Satan. In Howard’s story, the word devil is used six times. Even the giant spider is likened to a devil. Yag-kosha calls Yara a devil a few times: "I was slave to a devil in human form." And he says to Conan, "You are not of Yara’s race of devils."

When Conan presents the gem to Yara, the evil priest is startled, and when he sees Yag-kosha whole again, Yara threw up his arms and fled as a madman flees. That is similar to some Christian beliefs that Satan was enraged at Christ’s resurrection, knowing that this proved the devil’s ultimate defeat. 

We are Conan, watching this remarkable play acted out before our bewildered eyes. We are participants, yes, but somewhat detached. How does Conan feel seeing all this? 

And as Conan looked, he thought that his eyes must be playing him tricks… He blinked, puzzled, and for the first time that night, doubted his own senses… immersed in a feeling of overpowering unreality, the Cimmerian was no longer sure of his own identity; he only knew that he was looking upon the external evidence of the unseen play of vast Outer forces, beyond his understanding.

… was no longer sure of his own identity

This is the transformative power of Christ. Or as St. Paul wrote in Galatians 2:20, Not I, but Christ in me. Or as in John 3:30, He must increase, but I must decrease.

… vast Outer forces, beyond his understanding.

Romans 11:33 Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!

When Conan flees the tower, he sees that the guards are dead, and his escape is made possible. The promise had been made, the word kept…

In The Bible, God promises salvation, eternal life, protection, guidance, and peace.

The last lines of Howard’s story give a sense of peace and hope. We are called out of our tombs into a new day and a new life.

And a silver door stood open, framed in the whiteness of dawn… Into the waving green gardens came the Cimmerian, and as the dawn wind blew upon him with the cool fragrance of luxuriant growths, he started like a man waking from a dream.

Stephen Gaspar's books can be found on Amazon! Click here.

Robert E. Howard - Cold Opens

 A cold open is a dramatic technique referred to in television and film, where an exciting scene is presented before the opening credits or title. It's a way to immediately engage the audience and introduce the story.

This term could also be used when referring to the first sentence or first paragraph of a story.

Robert E. Howard wrote mainly short stories for pulp magazines, and, like most writers, knew the importance of a good opening line or paragraph. Many of his cold opens put us amid action.

Opening lines in short stories can be crucial, as they must immediately capture the reader's attention and entice them to continue reading. A good opening to a story should intrigue the reader and convey that this is going to be a good ride.

I could fill a blog with fantastic quotes from Howard's work, but here I will focus on his "cold opens".

Rotath of Lemuria was dying. - The Curse of the Golden Skull

I have seen where other writers have used this, perhaps at the beginning of a chapter. James Michener comes to mind as I remember him using it at least twice. Howard liked this so much that he used it again in the opening line from The People of the Black Circle: The King of Vendhya was dying.

"At midnight the king must die!" - By This Axe I Rule   

The bare plank walls of the Golden Eagle Saloon seemed still to vibrate with the crashing echoes of the guns which had split the sudden darkness with spurts of red. - The Vultures of Whapeton 

Fear? Your pardon, Messieurs, but the meaning of fear you do not know.  - Wolfshead

Lightning dazzled the eyes of Turlogh O'Brien and his foot slipped in a smear of blood as he staggered on the reeling deck. The clashing of steel rivaled the bellowing of the thunder, and screams of death cut through the roar of waves and wind. The incessant lighting flicker gleamed on the corpses sprawling redly…    - The Gods of Bal-Sagoth

Red Ghallinan was a gunman. - "Golden Hope" Christmas

"Landlord, ho!" The shout broke the lowering silence and reverberated through the black forest with sinister echoing.  - Rattle of Bones

A sinister quiet lay like a shoud over the ancient city of Valusia.  - Swords of the Purple Kingdom

The folks on Bear Creek ain't what you'd call peaceable by nature, but I was kind of surprised to come onto Erath Elkins and his brother-in-law Joel Gordon locked in mortal combat on the bank of the creek. But there they was, so tangled up they couldn't use their bowies to no advantage, and their cussing was scandalous to hear.      - A Gent from Bear Creek                                                                                                

A cannon-ball for a left and a thunderbolt for a right! A granite jaw, and chilled steel body! The ferocity of a tiger, and the greatest fighting heart that ever beat in an iron-ribbed breast! That was Mike Brennan, heavyweight contender.   - The Iron Man    

The roar of battle had died away; the shout of victory mingled with the cries of the dying.          - The Scarlet Citadel

Torches flared murkily on the revels in the Maul, where the thieves of the east held carnival by night. In the Maul they could carouse and roar as they liked, for honest people shunned the quarters, and watchmen, well paid with stained coins, did not interfere with their sport.        - The Tower of the Elephant

The dagger flashed downward. A sharp cry broke in a gasp. The form on the rough altar twitched convulsively and lay still. The jagged flint edge sawed at the crimsoned breast, and thin bony fingers, ghastly dyed, tore out the still-twitching heart. Under matted white brows, sharp eyes gleamed with a ferocious intensity.            - Kings of the Night    

 I came to Dagon's Cave to kill Richard Brent. I went down the dusky avenues made by the towering trees, and my mood well-matched the primitive grimness of the scene.  - People of the Dark                                                                                     

1.     The horror first took concrete form amid that most unconcrete of all things—a hashish dream. I was off on a timeless, spaceless journey through the strange lands that belong to this state of being, a million miles away from earth and all things earthly; yet I became cognizant that something was reaching across the unknown voids—something that tore ruthlessly at the separating curtains of my illusions and intruded itself into my visions.  - Skull-Face

Egyptian darkness! The phrase is too vivid for complete comfort, suggesting not only blackness, but unseen things lurking in that blackness; things that skulk in the deep shadows and shun the light of day; slinking figures that prowl beyond the edge of normal life.  - Black Hound of Death

The blades crossed with a sharp clash of venomous steel; blue sparks showered. Across those blades hot eyes burned into each other — hard inky black eyes and volcanic blue ones. Breath hissed between close locked teeth; feet scruffed the sward, advancing, retreating.       - The Blue Flame of Vengeance

Across the red drifts and mail-clad forms, two figures glared at each other. In that utter desolation only they moved. The frosty sky was over them, the white illimitable plain around them, the dead men at their feet. Slowly through the corpses they came, as ghosts might come to a tryst through the shambles of a dead world.          - Gods of the North      

Only the age-old silence brooded over the mysterious ruins of Kuthchemes, but Fear was there; Fear quivered in the mind of Shevatas, the thief, driving his breath quick and sharp against his clenched teeth.  - Black Colossus

Steve Brill did not believe in ghosts or demons. Juan Lopez did. But neither the caution of the one nor the sturdy skepticism of the other was shield against the horror that fell upon them…         - The Horror from the Mound

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The Book Club Murders - Private Eye Excerpt

In my new book, The Book Club Murders, the protagonist reads a hard-boiled detective novel, which causes her to dream she is the detective in the story. Here is the chapter recounting her first of several dreams. 

Jessica looked around the dingy office. Everything, the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, appeared dull and lacked color. The air was stuffy with a slight trace of mold and age. She sat behind an old wooden desk with a few drawers on both sides. On the desktop was a cheap desk set with a blotter, a letter opener, a double pen stand, a letter tray, and a business card holder. She looked at the writing on the card.

Harry Call

Private Investigations

 

    Also on the desk was a tarnished brass tray where a cigarette burned. Two wooden chairs on the opposite side of the desk sat on a threadbare carpet. Against one wall was a four-drawer vertical filing cabinet, and a calendar turned to June 1938 on the opposite wall. The calendar featured the Dionne quintuplets, dressed in matching outfits and lying side-by-side. The ceiling had two water stains, probably the source of the moldy odor. A dirty light fixture containing a few dead bugs hung from the middle of the ceiling. The single window in the office was opened, and street sounds drifted in; car horns honked, brakes squealed, and a traffic cop blew his whistle. Cooking smells from the diner on the corner drifted in the window and reached her nose, making her hungry and nauseous at the same time.

    Jessica saw that she was dressed in a dark blue pinstriped suit, a white shirt, and a dark tie. Behind the desk, a coat rack stood to one side holding a grey fedora with a dark band.

    The door opposite the desk had pebbled glass on the upper half. On the other side of the door was an outer office. Jessica heard muffled voices and saw movement through the pebbled glass. The door opened, and Jessica’s secretary entered and closed the door behind her. The secretary looked a lot like Brittany from the book club. She was dressed quite plainly in a tan dress that reached past her knees. The secretary displayed very little jewelry or makeup and wore horn-rimmed glasses, lending her a studious look.

    “What is it, Ruthie?” Jessica asked.

    “A client,” Ruthie said, trying not to smirk.

    “Let’s have her.”

    “How do you know it’s a woman, Harry?”

    “From that grin on your puss. Come on, let’s have her.”

    “Prepare yourself.” Ruthie turned, opened the door, and ushered in the woman. 

    The woman who entered the office was tall, sleek, and angular. Her appearance was a welcome contrast to the drab office. She wore a fitted burgundy pencil dress with peplum, and upon her head, she sported a matching velvet turban beret with a veil. Her pale skin was sharply contrasted by the red lipstick she wore. The woman smelled terrific, and her perfume fought against the room’s stale air. She had class, with enough money that it showed, but not so much that she cared about it. 

    “Mrs. Van Pelt,” Ruthie announced in her most professional tone.

    Mrs. Van Pelt closely resembled Emily Hudson, the librarian.

    Jessica stood from behind the desk, nodded, and motioned the woman to one of the chairs facing the desk. Mrs. Van Pelt sat, and Jessica wondered how the woman could sit in such a tight dress.

    “I’m Harry Call,” Jessica said. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Van Pelt?”

    Mrs. Van Pelt gave Jessica and the surroundings a cursory glance. She appeared unimpressed by both.

    “I would like to employ you, Mr. Call,” she said with a deep and sultry voice. 

    “Hire me to do what?”

    She donned a somewhat forlorn look, and her eyes moved slightly upward.

    “You must understand, Mr. Call, this is very difficult for me,” she said with a quiver in her throat. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Now that I am here, and must relate my dilemma to another person… I… I don’t know…. It is all so upsetting.” She brought a lace handkerchief to her mouth and stifled a whimper.

    Jessica could see the woman was upset. “May I offer you something to steady your nerves? A drink, perhaps?” Jessica knew there was a bottle in the bottom desk drawer. She did not know how she knew. “Perhaps just a small one,” Jessica said.

    “I really shouldn’t, but…” Mrs. Van Pelt said. Then, she gave a brief nod and crossed her legs. She had nice legs.   

    Jessica opened the drawer and took out a bottle of Canadian Club and a glass. She checked to see if the glass was clean. It was, so she poured a small amount of liquor into it. Jessica rose from her chair and approached Mrs. Van Pelt. She handed the woman the glass, who took it. Mrs. Van Pelt did not sip the drink demurely but threw it back like a seasoned pro.  

    “Thank you, Mr. Call,” she said. “Would you happen to have a cigarette?”

    Jessica reached into her pocket and took out a soft pack of Camels. She offered Mrs. Van Pelt a cigarette. Holding it between the two fingers of her gloved hand, she waited for a light. Jessica took out her Ronson lighter, flicked it, and lit the cigarette. 

    Mrs. Van Pelt drew almost sensually on the cigarette and released smoke into the air through pursed lips. Jessica pushed the ashtray across the desk.

    “Now, Mrs. Van Pelt, tell me what I can do for you.” 

    “I came to you, Mr. Call, because I do not know what else to do,” she said, with desperation in her voice. “I did not know who to turn to. It is all so upsetting, and I must admit, somewhat embarrassing.”

    “It may be easier, Mrs. Van Pelt, if you start with something less embarrassing. Tell me about yourself. What’s your background?”

    The woman saw the practicality in this and began her narrative. 

    “My late husband, Rufus Van Pelt, died two years ago and left me fairly well-off, plus a lovely manor upstate. I soon found that after my husband passed away, my life grew quite lonely. I discovered that many of the friends I thought I had were, in fact, friends of my late husband. Once he was gone, they all but abandoned me. Just recently, a new man came into my life—Walter Henderson. He was new to the area, but I found him quite handsome and charming. I confess I was lonely and moved too quickly. Walter nearly swept me off my feet. I began inviting him to the manor house on weekends. Everything was kept above board, let me assure you.”

    She wanted the detective to know that she had not allowed herself to be compromised in any way. For some reason, she must have believed it was important, as if she were preserving her integrity as a woman. Mrs. Van Pelt looked away, took a deep breath, and continued.  

    “Little by little, Walter grew more familiar with the house, my car, and the servants. I, rather foolishly, allowed this. I convinced myself we were in love, and I was blind to wherever Walter was concerned. Sometimes, his behavior caused me much distress, but unfortunately, there was no one in whom I could confide. I have no brothers or sisters, and I lost my parents when the SS Morro sank in 1934 on its journey from Havana to New York. When they died, my inheritance was considerable.

    “I believed Walter loved me, and we often spoke of marriage. Two days ago, Walter left my house rather abruptly without saying anything to me. I soon learned the reason for his hasty departure. Missing from my jewel case was a diamond necklace my husband had given me several years ago. The necklace is worth over ten thousand dollars. 

    Jessica pursed her lips and blew a silent whistle. 

    “I was able to follow Walter’s trail here,” Mrs. Van Pelt continued. “I believe he plans on selling my necklace for cash.”

    “And you do not want to involve the police,” Jessica said. 

    “No, I do not. Walter may be a thief, but I do not wish to see him end up in jail. Despite everything he has done, I am afraid I still have feelings for him.”

    “So, you want me to find him and return the necklace to you.”

    “Precisely so, Mr. Call.”        

    “What if Henderson has already hocked… I mean, sold the necklace?”

    “Oh, dear,” she said, bringing two fingers against her cheek. “Well, I suppose if you could recover the money, I might be able to buy back the necklace. It is quite precious to me.”

    “Do you happen to have a photograph of Walter Henderson?”

   She reached into her small handbag, removed a photograph, and handed it to Jessica. The photograph showed Mrs. Van Pelt and Henderson posing for a picture at what appeared to be a nightclub. She had an enigmatic smile while he looked a little worse for drink. They posed close together, practically cheek to cheek. Henderson had dark features with a pencil-thin mustache. 

    “It might take some effort getting the necklace away from him. Is Henderson prone to violence?”

    Mrs. Van Pelt thought about this. “I never considered him dangerous, though I more than once saw him carrying a handgun. I asked him about it, and he said he carried it for protection. I am not so naive, Mr. Call, to believe Walter is completely upstanding, especially considering that he stole my necklace. I can only caution you that if you encounter him, be extremely careful. I would not like to see you hurt on my account.”

    Jessica considered this. “And you are certain Walter Henderson is in the city.”

    “They told me at the train station that he bought a ticket, and this was his destination.”

    “It might be difficult to find him in a city this size.”

    She gave a brief start as if now only remembering something. Reaching back into her handbag, she extracted a small piece of paper. She handed it to Jessica, saying, “I found this in Walter’s room.”

    It was a page torn from a small notebook. The writing on the paper was in block letters. It simply read: HELEN S DELECOURT STREET HOTEL.

    “I was going to go there myself,” she said. “Then I reconsidered and decided to hire you. I hope I did the right thing, Mr. Call.”

    “I am sure you did. Now, Mrs. Van Pelt, the only other thing we have to discuss is my fee.” Harry Call gave his client one last assessment. “My services go for twenty dollars a day plus expenses.” It was his ‘rich client rate’.

    Mrs. Van Pelt stared across the desk for several seconds. She reached into her handbag again and this time took out some money. She placed it on the desk.

    “Here is one hundred dollars. I trust that is sufficient for the time being.”

    Jessica stood, picked up the money, and pocketed it. 

    “And where can I contact you, Mrs. Van Pelt?”

    “I am staying at the Bentley. Room 101.”

    “All right, Mrs. Van Pelt. You will be hearing from me in a day or two,” Jessica said, standing.

    Mrs. Van Pelt rose as well and extended her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Call. I feel already that some of this weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I will be anxious to hear from you.”

    Jessica shook her hand affirmingly. She opened the office door and showed Mrs. Van Pelt out. The woman passed by closely. Her perfume was intoxicating.

    After Mrs. Van Pelt had left, Jessica turned to Ruthie and asked, “Well, what do you think of her?”

    Ruthie raised her eyebrows and appeared wide-eyed. “She’s a piece of work and no mistake. You better watch your step around her, Harry.”

    Jessica grinned, entered her office, and grabbed her hat. She told Ruthie that she would be going out and that Ruthie was to hold down the fort.

    “I will, Harry. You be careful.”

    Harry Call pointed at his secretary with the gunman’s salute and made a clicking sound between clenched teeth.

    The private detective walked down the three flights instead of taking the elevator. Harry Call passed through the small atrium where a compass design decorated the floor and ceiling. He passed through the door and out onto the pavement. It was mid-afternoon and sunny, though the tall buildings were beginning to shade the west side of the street.

    Instead of hailing a cab, Harry walked the four blocks to Bleeker and Porter, hoping to find Shakes, one of Harry’s more reliable snitches. Shakes was standing outside a bar on Bleeker Street, smoking a cigarette. Shakes looked a lot like Taylor Pinsky. He was short and quick in his ways, like a ferret, and dressed in a tweed jacket with a matching cap. Harry approached Shakes, who looked up and down the street to see if anyone was watching. The small man raised his cigarette to his mouth with fingers that trembled. Without a word of greeting, Shakes went into the bar. Harry waited a half a moment and followed. They sat in a booth at the back where they could talk privately. They sat in silence until the bartender came to their table.

    “Two whiskey sours,” Harry said.

    Wordlessly, the bartender left but soon returned and placed their drinks on the table. Behind the bar, he stood polishing glasses.

    Harry and Shakes raised their drinks.

    “Health,” said Harry.

    “L’chaim!” Shakes said. 

    They drank. Shakes’s hand trembled so much that he almost spilled his drink. While they spoke, they kept their voices low. Shakes rarely made eye contact with Harry as his gaze bounced around the room. He was anxious about being overheard or even seen talking to Harry.

    Harry leaned across the table and said, “I need you to find out if anyone is trying to unload a diamond necklace. Check only the best fences, no small time. Also, find out anything you can on Walter Henderson. And one last thing, I need the background on Mrs. Rufus Van Pelt from somewhere Upstate.”

    Shakes nodded. “A sawbuck.”

    “Ten? Don’t you know we’re in a depression? A fin,” Harry countered.

    Shakes shook his head. “Ten bucks.”

    “I’ll give you a fin now and another five when you give me all the information.”

    Shakes nodded, and Harry handed over a five-dollar bill.”

    Shakes snatched up the money and put it in his breast pocket. He downed his drink and left. 

    There was a payphone on the wall in the bar. The telephone started to ring. Harry looked at the phone and then at the bartender standing behind the bar, polishing a glass. The two men looked at one another. The telephone continued to ring.

     Harry addressed the bartender, “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

 

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