The hangover had lessened somewhat, although his head still ached and his belly burned. He got out of the bed, trying to peer through the darkness, hoping to see the outline of a table lamp or floor lamp. Something flicked against his face. At first he thought it was some winged insect just trying to be cute. It tagged him again and he took a swipe at it. Instead of insect it was string, dangling from the ceiling. He pulled the string and the room was lit.

It was a very small room and first he saw the single window, wide open. There was no rug on the loose-boarded floor and whoever had papered the walls, the job was fouled up something awful. Most of the paper was hanging loose. There was very little furniture in the room, just the bed, an unvarnished, homemade bookcase crammed with books, and a sagging armchair with its upholstery torn and the stuffing coming out. In the armchair a man was sound asleep. Corey blinked several times, shook his head slowly in bafflement. Then he moved toward the sleeper, shook the sleeper’s shoulder and said, “Wake up. Come on, Carp.”

The little man opened his eyes. He smiled placidly at Corey Bradford. “Good morning,” he said.

“Piss on that,” Corey said. “Where’s my gun?”

“I have it.” Carp sat up straighter in the armchair. Then he yawned and rubbed his eyes and yawned again. He got up from the armchair, stretched his arms, then reached under the chair pillow and took out the .38.

“What’s the play?” Corey asked.

“Merely a precaution,” the little man said. He handed the gun to Corey. “To put it mildly, you were rather intoxicated. It sometimes leads to the D.T.’s. In a state of delirium you might have used the weapon and caused considerable damage.”

Corey tucked the gun under his belt. “How’d you get me here? You carried me?”

“Not exactly,” the little man said. “In the alley I managed to lift you onto your feet. It was rather awkward. You kept trying to pull away as I dragged you along, and at times we both fell down. As you know, I imbibe rather freely myself; and I found it somewhat difficult to navigate. This alcohol, it’s a tricky fuel. Sometimes it has you traveling backwards.”

Corey was quiet for a few moments. Then, “How’d you know I was in the alley?”

“I followed you from the saloon.”

“How come?”

“Well, you were totally inebriated, and I thought it best to keep you under surveillance. I mean, it appeared you were ready to collapse and I wanted to render assistance.”

“It’s appreciated,” Corey said. He started toward the door. Then stopped and looked at the open window that showed the darkness outside.

“If I were you, I’d wait a while,” Carp said.

“Wait for what?”