“Foutu ... I left it en Italie.... I couldnt breeng it along once they’d cut it off.”
“How was that?”
“Damn fool thing on Mont Tomba.... My bruderinlaw e gave me a very beautiful artificial leemb.... Sit ’ere. Look madame now can you tell which is which?”
“No I cant,” said Ellie laughing. They were at a little marble table in the corner of the crowded kitchen. A girl was dishing out at a deal table in the center. Two cooks worked over the stove. The air was rich with sizzling fatty foodsmells. Congo hobbled back to them with three glasses on a small tray. He stood over them while they drank.
“Salut,” he said, raising his glass. “Absinthe cocktail, like they make it in New Orleans.”
“It’s a knockout.” Congo took a card out of his vest pocket:
MARQUIS DES COULOMMIERS
Imports
Riverside 11121
“Maybe some day you need some little ting ... I deal in nutting but prewar imported. I am the best bootleggair in New York.”
“If I ever get any money I certainly will spend it on you Congo.... How do you find business?”
“Veree good.... I tell you about it. Tonight I’m too busee.... Now I find you a table in the restaurant.”