Pepe snorted. "Mierda!" he laughed. "What you really need is ..."
"I know," Hall said, sharply. "That girl with the red hair."
"Excuse me," Pepe said. "I am not a doctor."
"You are too modest, ilustre."
"Have a good time tonight. I'll be waiting for you in the morning. Or, if you change your mind, leave word with Fernando."
"Good. Until tomorrow, then." Hall got the key to his new room from the clerk, as well as the packages he had ordered earlier in the day.
The new room was larger than the other one. His clothes and bags had already been moved in, and the chambermaid had made a creditable effort to put them away as Hall had previously done. Hall went to the window, saw that it looked out on the Plaza. He adjusted his window shutters for privacy. The wall between his room and Ansaldo's sitting room had only a bureau against it. Hall moved the chest slightly to one side, made room for a small, solid chair. Then he took his bath.
He was shaving when he heard Ansaldo return to the Bolivar. He wrapped a towel around his middle, put the plastic prongs of the stethoscope in his ears, and sat down on the little chair facing the wall. The hearing end of the stethoscope picked up only footsteps. The sounds told their own story. The man in the next room was walking to the window, then opening the shutters, then sitting on the couch. There were other footsteps, lighter and less pronounced. Perhaps another person in the room was wearing soft slippers or going barefooted, like Hall himself.
"Are you tired, ilustre?" It was Marina.
"No. Why should I be tired?" Ansaldo.