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1Then it was all true. I saw the skins of tigers flaming in his palace on the Grand Canal; I saw him opening a chest of
2rubies to ease, with their crimson-lighted depths, the gnawings of his broken heart. "I'm going to make a big request of
3you today," he said, pocketing his souvenirs with satisfaction, "so I thought you ought to know something about me. I
4didn't want you to think I was just some nobody. You see, I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and
5there trying to forget the sad things that happened to me." He hesitated. "You'll hear about it this afternoon." "At
6lunch?" "No, this afternoon. I happened to find out that you're taking Miss Baker to tea." "Do you mean you're in love
7with Miss Baker?" "No, old sport, I'm not. But Miss Baker has kindly consented to speak to you about this matter." I
8hadn't the faintest idea what "this matter" was, but I was more annoyed than interested. I hadn't asked Jordan to tea in
9order to discuss Mr. Jay Gatsby. I was sure the request would be something utterly fantastic, and for a moment I was
10sorry I'd ever set foot upon his overpopulated lawn. He wouldn't say another word. His correctness grew on him as we
11neared the city. We passed Port Roosevelt, where there was a glimpse of red-belted oceangoing ships, and sped along a
12cobbled slum lined with the dark, undeserted saloons of the faded-gilt nineteen-hundreds. Then the valley of ashes
13opened out on both sides of us, and I had a glimpse of Mrs. Wilson straining at the garage pump with panting vitality as
14we went by. With fenders spread like wings we scattered light through half Astoria--only half, for as we twisted among
15the pillars of the elevated I heard the familiar "jug-jug-spat!" of a motorcycle, and a frantic policeman rode
16alongside. "All right, old sport," called Gatsby. We slowed down. Taking a white card from his wallet, he waved it
17before the man's eyes. "Right you are," agreed the policeman, tipping his cap. "Know you next time, Mr. Gatsby. Excuse
18me!" "What was that?" I inquired. "The picture of Oxford?" "I was able to do the commissioner a favour once, and he
19sends me a Christmas card every year." Over the great bridge, with the sunlight through the girders making a constant
20flicker upon the moving cars, with the city rising up across the river in white heaps and sugar lumps all built with a
21wish out of nonolfactory money. The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in
22its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world. A dead man passed us in a hearse heaped with
23blooms, followed by two carriages with drawn blinds, and by more cheerful carriages for friends. The friends looked out
24at us with the tragic eyes and short upper lips of southeastern Europe, and I was glad that the sight of Gatsby's
25splendid car was included in their sombre holiday. As we crossed Blackwell's Island a limousine passed us, driven by a
26white chauffeur, in which sat three modish negroes, two bucks and a girl. I laughed aloud as the yolks of their eyeballs
27rolled toward us in haughty rivalry. "Anything can happen now that we've slid over this bridge," I thought; "anything at
28all …" Even Gatsby could happen, without any particular wonder.
29------------------------------------------------------------------------ Roaring noon. In a well-fanned Forty-second
30Street cellar I met Gatsby for lunch. Blinking away the brightness of the street outside, my eyes picked him out
31obscurely in the anteroom, talking to another man. "Mr. Carraway, this is my friend Mr. Wolfshiem." A small, flat-nosed
32Jew raised his large head and regarded me with two fine growths of hair which luxuriated in either nostril. After a
33moment I discovered his tiny eyes in the half-darkness. "--So I took one look at him," said Mr. Wolfshiem, shaking my
34hand earnestly, "and what do you think I did?" "What?" I inquired politely. But evidently he was not addressing me, for
35he dropped my hand and covered Gatsby with his expressive nose. "I handed the money to Katspaugh and I said: 'All right,
36Katspaugh, don't pay him a penny till he shuts his mouth.' He shut it then and there." Gatsby took an arm of each of us
37and moved forward into the restaurant, whereupon Mr. Wolfshiem swallowed a new sentence he was starting and lapsed into
38a somnambulatory abstraction. "Highballs?" asked the head waiter. "This is a nice restaurant here," said Mr. Wolfshiem,
39looking at the presbyterian nymphs on the ceiling. "But I like across the street better!" "Yes, highballs," agreed
40Gatsby, and then to Mr. Wolfshiem: "It's too hot over there." "Hot and small--yes," said Mr. Wolfshiem, "but full of
41memories." "What place is that?" I asked. "The old Metropole." "The old Metropole," brooded Mr. Wolfshiem gloomily.
42"Filled with faces dead and gone. Filled with friends gone now forever. I can't forget so long as I live the night they
43shot Rosy Rosenthal there. It was six of us at the table, and Rosy had eat and drunk a lot all evening. When it was
44almost morning the waiter came up to him with a funny look and says somebody wants to speak to him outside. 'All right,'
45says Rosy, and begins to get up, and I pulled him down in his chair. " 'Let the bastards come in here if they want you,
46Rosy, but don't you, so help me, move outside this room.' "It was four o'clock in the morning then, and if we'd of
47raised the blinds we'd of seen daylight." "Did he go?" I asked innocently. "Sure he went." Mr. Wolfshiem's nose flashed
48at me indignantly. "He turned around in the door and says: 'Don't let that waiter take away my coffee!' Then he went out
49on the sidewalk, and they shot him three times in his full belly and drove away." "Four of them were electrocuted," I
50said, remembering. "Five, with Becker." His nostrils turned to me in an interested way. "I understand you're looking for
51a business gonnegtion." The juxtaposition of these two remarks was startling. Gatsby answered for me: "Oh, no," he
52exclaimed, "this isn't the man." "No?" Mr. Wolfshiem seemed disappointed. "This is just a friend. I told you we'd talk
53about that some other time." "I beg your pardon," said Mr. Wolfshiem, "I had a wrong man." A succulent hash arrived, and
54Mr. Wolfshiem, forgetting the more sentimental atmosphere of the old Metropole, began to eat with ferocious delicacy.
55His eyes, meanwhile, roved very slowly all around the room--he completed the arc by turning to inspect the people
56directly behind. I think that, except for my presence, he would have taken one short glance beneath our own table. "Look
57here, old sport," said Gatsby, leaning toward me, "I'm afraid I made you a little angry this morning in the car." There
58was the smile again, but this time I held out against it. "I don't like mysteries," I answered, "and I don't understand
59why you won't come out frankly and tell me what you want. Why has it all got to come through Miss Baker?" "Oh, it's
60nothing underhand," he assured me. "Miss Baker's a great sportswoman, you know, and she'd never do anything that wasn't
61all right." Suddenly he looked at his watch, jumped up, and hurried from the room, leaving me with Mr. Wolfshiem at the
62table. "He has to telephone," said Mr. Wolfshiem, following him with his eyes. "Fine fellow, isn't he? Handsome to look
63at and a perfect gentleman." "Yes." "He's an Oggsford man." "Oh!" "He went to Oggsford College in England. You know
64Oggsford College?" "I've heard of it." "It's one of the most famous colleges in the world." "Have you known Gatsby for a
65long time?" I inquired. "Several years," he answered in a gratified way. "I made the pleasure of his acquaintance just
66after the war. But I knew I had discovered a man of fine breeding after I talked with him an hour. I said to myself:
67'There's the kind of man you'd like to take home and introduce to your mother and sister.' " He paused. "I see you're
68looking at my cuff buttons." I hadn't been looking at them, but I did now. They were composed of oddly familiar pieces
69of ivory. "Finest specimens of human molars," he informed me. "Well!" I inspected them. "That's a very interesting
70idea." "Yeah." He flipped his sleeves up under his coat. "Yeah, Gatsby's very careful about women. He would never so
71much as look at a friend's wife." When the subject of this instinctive trust returned to the table and sat down Mr.
72Wolfshiem drank his coffee with a jerk and got to his feet.
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