The old woman screamed into the red-haired girl's ear inquiring who had told her this story. She mentioned a name.
"It's someone who just happened to be here—she isn't likely to come back. But I'll tell you where you can see her. Do you know the Basque woman's house? Well, they're going to have a party there tomorrow night, and the girl is sure to be there. Ask for Gertrude. She's a thin, dark piece ... puts on lots of airs."
Monsalvat could not leave without calling the old woman to account for her trade, or at least for having such young girls about. The hag laughed shrilly, opening her toothless mouth wide, and rocking her body back and forth. Whenever she stopped a moment in her glee she wiped her nose on her arm.
"So you think we ruin girls, do you? That's a good one! Listen, tell me! How old do you think I am? Fifty-two—not a year more! Well, look, in all the twenty years I've been in this business I never deceived nor ruined any woman. A good one, that is! I don't force women to this kind of work. Criminal, you call it? Well, what about the 'City of Paris' that pays its employees so little they have to get money somewhere else? What do you call that? Say, I know something about what's going on! I used to be up in the world once! You ought to have seen the folks who came to my house! Yes, a fine idea, you have! But I don't take advantage of anybody—Talk to me! Say, listen! Women don't ruin other women! It's you fine gentlemen that ruin them! That's a good one! Ha-ha! And if some woman helps to ruin another it's not us poor ones! That's a good one all right!"
The next evening Monsalvat set out for the Basque woman's house, where he was to inquire for "Gertrude." He went through dark sinister streets and at last came to what he thought must be the place. It was in a junction of two alleys, near the Hospicio de la Merced.
A desolate quarter of the town it was, depressing in lines and color. A short narrow street went upgrade between two high walls, then turned abruptly. From the direction in which Monsalvat was approaching, the walls and trees of the women's insane asylum alone were visible. All the rest was sky and night. Silence like that of the desert reigned, and a solitude fit for nameless crimes. Monsalvat shivered with a vague uneasiness. He turned at the end of the passage, and saw a multitude of distant lights. The view widened. Something ominous breathed in the thick darkness. On one side of the street stretched a low wall; and in the distance, beyond that, the wide inky railroad. The huge formless bulks of empty cars mingled in undistinguishable masses down there in those dreary yards; and beyond, from the skyline of the city electric lights were glittering. Here and there yellow signals glowed in the blackness, and to the left stretched a line of dingy houses. The house Monsalvat was seeking must be one of these.
In a building in front of him a door was open. He could hear talking inside, laughter, the sound of a piano. He called out to announce his presence. Someone shouted to him to come in. From the other end of the entrance hall a girl, who was having some beer with her escort, called out to ask him what he wanted. Perhaps Monsalvat's appearance aroused mistrust in her companion. At any rate they replied that the lady of the house was busy and that a party was going on. Monsalvat however was persistent. Finally they let him pass into an inner room. The proprietress, a very tall and heavy Basque, whom he encountered in the patio, seemed to have her doubts about him too. Monsalvat made up some pretext for staying there a few moments, and in addition gave the woman money. The girl who was drinking beer turned out to be Gertrude. The proprietress called her aside so that Monsalvat could talk to her.
"How should I know?" exclaimed Gertrude. "I heard the story; but who knows if it's true? And what's more I don't remember anything about it. That was a good many days ago."
"It isn't so many days ago, because all this happened last week."
"I tell you I don't know anything about it. I wasn't the one who told the story in the first place. It was somebody else."