“I don’t know what happened, but some one had the police called to keep Mike out of the back room. There were some people that had known Mike at Cannes. What’s the matter with Mike?”
“Probably he owes them money” I said. “That’s what people usually get bitter about.”
In front of the ticket-booths out in the square there were two lines of people waiting. They were sitting on chairs or crouched on the ground with blankets and newspapers around them. They were waiting for the wickets to open in the morning to buy tickets for the bull-fight. The night was clearing and the moon was out. Some of the people in the line were sleeping.
At the Café Suizo we had just sat down and ordered Fundador when Robert Cohn came up.
“Where’s Brett?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“She was with you.”
“She must have gone to bed.”
“She’s not.”
“I don’t know where she is.”