and one of them interrupting the argument, looking at me, winking over the top of the stove, saying You made a hit

and I That’s what I came for

and he Only maybe she wasn’t quite the same age

and I About two hundred years less. But that doesn’t matter. What was it you saw Grandmother?

she leant over even closer glanced quickly towards the lame man, the card players still busy throwing their cards noisily on the table: Jesus she said. Jesus. Christ. But he’s a sly one.

over the top of the stove I looked at him he winked at me again I know I said He’s the slyest one of all Where is he?

On the road

Yes? How did he look?

He had his beard she said And a staff

I saw him too I said

He always has his staff He wanted to beat me

God damn it, the lame man shouted turning round Aren’t you done telling your lies yet Why don’t you go to bed

Christ the old woman said. The soldiers round the table burst out laughing, for a moment the old woman sat still watching the lame man waiting for him to pick up his cards huddled crouching over her bench her little faded red-rimmed eyes shining with a wicked hostile gleam, Cuckold! She said, (still talking between her teeth, still mumbling:) They’re nasty I’m all alone, repeating Cuckold! and again Cuckold!—but they had started playing again, she glanced at me triumphantly leant towards me again, Chased him away with his rifle, she said. Took his gun but he’s a cuckold all the same. I looked at him again over the top of the stove and he winked at me again

Didn’t matter if he locked her in her room she said with a giggle She leant over further nudged me with her elbow her little cadaver’s eyes with their yellowish ooze laughing silently But there’s more than one key she said

What

More than one key