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Berenice giggled。 〃You're cute when you're stern。 No 。 。 。 I guess not； but art； it seems to me； is supposed to be for everybody； not just for those critics you mentioned 。 。
I put down the spoon and wiped my lips on a paper napkin。 〃Whales are for everybody； too； sweetheart。 But not everybody studies whales as a lifetime occupation。 That's the big difference you don't seem to understand。〃
〃All right。〃 She shrugged。 〃I still think there's something you haven't told me about all this。〃
I grinned。 〃There is。 In return for Debierue's address I've got to do a favor for Mr。 Cassidy…〃
〃The lawyer who told you about Debierue？〃
〃Yeah。〃 I nodded。 〃And what I'm telling you is 'privileged information；' as Cassidy would put it。 It's between you and Mr。 Cassidy and these ice cream sodas。〃
〃You can trust me； James。〃 Her face softened。 〃You can trust me with your life。〃
〃I know。 And in a way it is my life。 Anyway； Mr。 Cassidy gave me privileged information…where Debierue is living… and all I have to do in return is to steal a picture for him。〃
〃Steal a picture？ Why can't he buy one？ He's rich enough。〃
〃Debierue doesn't sell his pictures。 I explained all that。 If Cassidy gets a picture； even one that's been stolen； he'll be the only collector in the world to have one； you see。〃
〃What good will it do him？ If it's a stolen picture； Debierue can get it back by calling the police。〃
〃Debierue won't know he has it； and neither will anyone else…until after Debierue's dead； anyway。 Then the picture will be even more valuable。〃
〃How're you going to steal a picture without Debierue knowing it was you？〃
〃I don't know yet。 I'm playing things by ear at the moment。 It might not be a picture。 If he's working with ceramics； I can slip a piece in my pocket while you distract him。 Maybe there are some drawings around。 Mr。 Cassidy would be satisfied with a drawing。 In fact he'd be delighted。 But until I find out what Debierue has been doing； I won't know what to do myself。〃
〃But you want me to help you？〃
〃If you want to； yes。 He can't watch both of us at the same time； and he's an old man。 So when a chance es； and it will； I'll give you the high sign and then I'll snatch something。〃
〃It's awfully haphazard； James； the way you say it。 Besides； as soon as we leave； he'll know that you're the one who stole it…whatever it is。〃
〃No。〃 I shook my head。 〃He won't know。 He'll suspect that I took it； but he won't be able to prove it。 I'll deny everything； if charged； and besides it'll never get that far。 Meanwhile； Mr。 Cassidy will have the painting； chunk of sculpture； drawing； or whatever； hidden away where Jesus Christ couldn't find it。 See？〃
〃Do you realize； James；〃 she said； rather primly； 〃that if you ever got caught stealing a painting from anybody that your career would be over？〃
〃Not really； and not； certainly； from Debierue。 His work； as you mentioned before about Van Gogh； belongs to the world…and if I were ever tried for something like that； which I wouldn't be…I'd have a defense fund from art lovers and art magazines that would make me look like a White Panther。 Anyway； that's the plan…in addition to somehow getting an interview； of course。〃
〃It isn't much of a plan。〃
〃True。 But now that you know what I have to do； you might get an idea once we're on the scene。 The important thing is this： don't take anything yourself。 I'll take it when the time is propitious。 I have to get the interview before anything else is done。〃
〃I understand。〃
The rain caught us before we reached Lake Worth。
There were torrents of it； and I could hardly see to drive。 Berenice； because of her suit； had to roll up her window； but it was too hot for me to roll up mine。 My left shoulder and arm got soaked； but with the humidity I would have been just as wet inside the car with the window rolled up。 The rain finally came down so hard I had to pull over to the curb in Lake Worth to wait for a letup。
Berenice was frowning。 〃How much；〃 she asked； 〃does a baby whale weigh when it's first born？〃
〃One ton。 And it's fourteen feet long。〃 I lit a cigarette and passed it to Berenice。 She shook her head and handed it back。 I took a long drag。 〃One ton；〃 I said solemnly； 〃is two thousand pounds。〃
〃I know how much a ton is！〃 she said angrily。 〃You… you…you damned intellectual； you！〃
I couldn't contain myself。 I had to laugh and ruin my joke。
2
I could have taken State Road Seven straight away by picking it up west of West Palm Beach； but because the old two…lane highway was used primarily by truck traffic barreling for Miami's back door； into Hialeah； I stayed on U。S。 1 all the way to Boynton Beach before searching for a through road to make the cutover。 I got lost for a few minutes and made several aimless circles where new blacktops had been crushed down for a subdivision called inappropriately Ocean Pine Terraces （miles from the ocean； no pines； no terraces）； but when I finally reached the state highway； it was freshly paved； and the truck traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I had expected。
The rain； mercifully； had stopped。
My crude map was clear enough； but I had zipped past Debierue's turnoff to the Dixie Drive…in Movie Theater before I realized it。 The mixed dirt…and…gravel private road leading to Debierue's home…and…studio was clearly visible from the highway； and on the right of the highway about three hundred yards before the drive…in entrance； but I had failed to notice it。 I made a crimped circle in the deserted drive…in entrance and this time； from the other side of the highway； it was easy to spot the break。
Thick gama grass had reclaimed the deep wheel ruts of the road； and I crawled along in first gear。 The bumpy； rarely used trail straight…lined through a stand of secondgrowth slash pine for about a half mile and then made a sigmoid loop to circumvent two stinking stagnant ponds of black swamp water。 On the right of the road； abandoned chicken runs stretched into the jungly mass of greenery； and weeds had grown straight and tall along the sagging chicken…wire fences。 The unpainted wooden chickenhouses had weathered to an unpatterned dirty gray； and most of the roofs had caved in。 The narrow road petered out at an open peeled…pine gate。 I eased into the fenced area； with its untended； thickly grassed yard； which resembled a huge； brown bathmat； and pulled up in front of the screened porch of the house。
Paradoxically； I was awed by my first sight of the old painter。 I switched off the engine； and as it ticked heatedly away； I sat and stared。 I say 〃paradoxically〃 because Debierue in person was anything but awe inspiring。
He resembled any one of a thousand； no literally tens of thousands； of those tanned Florida retirees one sees on bridges fishing； on golf courses tottering； and on the shuffleboard courts of rest homes and public parks shuffling。 He even wore the uniform。 Green…billed khaki baseball cap； white denim Bermuda shorts； low…cut Zayre tennis shoes in pale blue canvas； and the standard white open…necked 〃polo〃 shirt with short sleeves。 The inevitable tiny green alligator was embroidered over the left pocket of the shirt； an emblem so mon in Florida that any Miami Beach edian could get a laugh by saying； 〃They caught an alligator in the Glades the other day； and he was wearing a shirt with a little man sewn over the pocket 。 。 。〃
But unlike those other thousands of old men who had retired to Florida in anticipation of a warm death； men who had earned their dubious retirement by running shoe stores； managing light…bulb plants in Amarillo； manufac turing condoms in Newark； hustling as harried sales managers in the ten western states； Debierue had served； and was still serving； the strictest master of them all…the selfdiscipline of the artist。
Debierue； apparently unperturbed by the arrival of a strange； beat…up convertible in his yard； sat limberly erect in a green…webbed； aluminum patio chair beside the porch door； soaking up late afternoon sun。 I was pleased to see that he was allowing his white beard to grow again （for several years he had been clean shaven）； but it was not as long and