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1"It was a madman," he said. "He must have been mad." "Wouldn't you like some coffee?" I urged him. "I don't want
2anything. I'm all right now, Mr.--" "Carraway." "Well, I'm all right now. Where have they got Jimmy?" I took him into
3the drawing-room, where his son lay, and left him there. Some little boys had come up on the steps and were looking into
4the hall; when I told them who had arrived, they went reluctantly away. After a little while Mr. Gatz opened the door
5and came out, his mouth ajar, his face flushed slightly, his eyes leaking isolated and unpunctual tears. He had reached
6an age where death no longer has the quality of ghastly surprise, and when he looked around him now for the first time
7and saw the height and splendour of the hall and the great rooms opening out from it into other rooms, his grief began
8to be mixed with an awed pride. I helped him to a bedroom upstairs; while he took off his coat and vest I told him that
9all arrangements had been deferred until he came. "I didn't know what you'd want, Mr. Gatsby--" "Gatz is my name."
10"--Mr. Gatz. I thought you might want to take the body West." He shook his head. "Jimmy always liked it better down
11East. He rose up to his position in the East. Were you a friend of my boy's, Mr.--?" "We were close friends." "He had a
12big future before him, you know. He was only a young man, but he had a lot of brain power here." He touched his head
13impressively, and I nodded. "If he'd of lived, he'd of been a great man. A man like James J. Hill. He'd of helped build
14up the country." "That's true," I said, uncomfortably. He fumbled at the embroidered coverlet, trying to take it from
15the bed, and lay down stiffly--was instantly asleep. That night an obviously frightened person called up, and demanded
16to know who I was before he would give his name. "This is Mr. Carraway," I said. "Oh!" He sounded relieved. "This is
17Klipspringer." I was relieved too, for that seemed to promise another friend at Gatsby's grave. I didn't want it to be
18in the papers and draw a sightseeing crowd, so I'd been calling up a few people myself. They were hard to find. "The
19funeral's tomorrow," I said. "Three o'clock, here at the house. I wish you'd tell anybody who'd be interested." "Oh, I
20will," he broke out hastily. "Of course I'm not likely to see anybody, but if I do." His tone made me suspicious. "Of
21course you'll be there yourself." "Well, I'll certainly try. What I called up about is--" "Wait a minute," I
22interrupted. "How about saying you'll come?" "Well, the fact is--the truth of the matter is that I'm staying with some
23people up here in Greenwich, and they rather expect me to be with them tomorrow. In fact, there's a sort of picnic or
24something. Of course I'll do my best to get away." I ejaculated an unrestrained "Huh!" and he must have heard me, for he
25went on nervously: "What I called up about was a pair of shoes I left there. I wonder if it'd be too much trouble to
26have the butler send them on. You see, they're tennis shoes, and I'm sort of helpless without them. My address is care
27of B. F.--" I didn't hear the rest of the name, because I hung up the receiver. After that I felt a certain shame for
28Gatsby--one gentleman to whom I telephoned implied that he had got what he deserved. However, that was my fault, for he
29was one of those who used to sneer most bitterly at Gatsby on the courage of Gatsby's liquor, and I should have known
30better than to call him. The morning of the funeral I went up to New York to see Meyer Wolfshiem; I couldn't seem to
31reach him any other way. The door that I pushed open, on the advice of an elevator boy, was marked "The Swastika Holding
32Company," and at first there didn't seem to be anyone inside. But when I'd shouted "hello" several times in vain, an
33argument broke out behind a partition, and presently a lovely Jewess appeared at an interior door and scrutinized me
34with black hostile eyes. "Nobody's in," she said. "Mr. Wolfshiem's gone to Chicago." The first part of this was
35obviously untrue, for someone had begun to whistle "The Rosary," tunelessly, inside. "Please say that Mr. Carraway wants
36to see him." "I can't get him back from Chicago, can I?" At this moment a voice, unmistakably Wolfshiem's, called
37"Stella!" from the other side of the door. "Leave your name on the desk," she said quickly. "I'll give it to him when he
38gets back." "But I know he's there." She took a step toward me and began to slide her hands indignantly up and down her
39hips. "You young men think you can force your way in here any time," she scolded. "We're getting sickantired of it. When
40I say he's in Chicago, he's in Chicago." I mentioned Gatsby. "Oh-h!" She looked at me over again. "Will you just--What
41was your name?" She vanished. In a moment Meyer Wolfshiem stood solemnly in the doorway, holding out both hands. He drew
42me into his office, remarking in a reverent voice that it was a sad time for all of us, and offered me a cigar. "My
43memory goes back to when first I met him," he said. "A young major just out of the army and covered over with medals he
44got in the war. He was so hard up he had to keep on wearing his uniform because he couldn't buy some regular clothes.
45First time I saw him was when he came into Winebrenner's poolroom at Forty-third Street and asked for a job. He hadn't
46eat anything for a couple of days. 'Come on have some lunch with me,' I said. He ate more than four dollars' worth of
47food in half an hour." "Did you start him in business?" I inquired. "Start him! I made him." "Oh." "I raised him up out
48of nothing, right out of the gutter. I saw right away he was a fine-appearing, gentlemanly young man, and when he told
49me he was at Oggsford I knew I could use him good. I got him to join the American Legion and he used to stand high
50there. Right off he did some work for a client of mine up to Albany. We were so thick like that in everything"--he held
51up two bulbous fingers--"always together." I wondered if this partnership had included the World's Series transaction in
521919. "Now he's dead," I said after a moment. "You were his closest friend, so I know you'll want to come to his funeral
53this afternoon." "I'd like to come." "Well, come then." The hair in his nostrils quivered slightly, and as he shook his
54head his eyes filled with tears. "I can't do it--I can't get mixed up in it," he said. "There's nothing to get mixed up
55in. It's all over now." "When a man gets killed I never like to get mixed up in it in any way. I keep out. When I was a
56young man it was different--if a friend of mine died, no matter how, I stuck with them to the end. You may think that's
57sentimental, but I mean it--to the bitter end." I saw that for some reason of his own he was determined not to come, so
58I stood up. "Are you a college man?" he inquired suddenly. For a moment I thought he was going to suggest a
59"gonnegtion," but he only nodded and shook my hand. "Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and
60not after he is dead," he suggested. "After that my own rule is to let everything alone." When I left his office the sky
61had turned dark and I got back to West Egg in a drizzle. After changing my clothes I went next door and found Mr. Gatz
62walking up and down excitedly in the hall. His pride in his son and in his son's possessions was continually increasing
63and now he had something to show me. "Jimmy sent me this picture." He took out his wallet with trembling fingers. "Look
64there." It was a photograph of the house, cracked in the corners and dirty with many hands. He pointed out every detail
65to me eagerly. "Look there!" and then sought admiration from my eyes. He had shown it so often that I think it was more
66real to him now than the house itself. "Jimmy sent it to me. I think it's a very pretty picture. It shows up well."
67"Very well. Had you seen him lately?"
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