Some of the old man's color came back. "I've got it, Mister—don't you worry about that." Reaching into the inside pocket of his filthy coat, he withdrew what at first appeared to be a large map folded many times over. He unfolded it with clumsy fingers, shook it out, and held it up for Drake to see. It was a stereo-poster of a girl, life-size and in color—the same girl who had had her picture taken on a hill on Azure—
Only this time she wasn't wearing a red dress. She was wearing a cache-sexe, and except for a pair of slippers, that was all she was wearing.
Drake could not move.
There was a legend at the bottom of the poster. It read:
Mary Legs, now stripping at King Tutankhamen's
Abruptly Drake came out of his state of shock. He tore the poster out of the old man's hands. "Where did you get it?" he demanded.
"I stole it. Ripped it off the King's billboard when nobody was looking. Carried it with me ever since."
"Did you ever see her ... perform?"
"You bet I did! You never saw anything like it. She'd—"