135

next time we hit Havre.”

Myrtle carried out his plan and hit Paris like a
bombshell. He annexed a succession of lovers and
from each he extracted a boodle bag of jewels.
“That was your mother’s insurance. I thought I’d
save it for my old age. But like a damned fool I
turned it into cash and invested in the stock market.

“By that time I'd had it. When I shook my ass at
some young twit they only laughed. Just a few years
ago they were dying to see what it looked like with-
out pants. Well, as I always say, dearie, today’s
belle of the ball is tomorrow’s old auntie. That’s
what I tell them when they laugh at me. One thing’s
sure, you'll be in the same spot one day.”

Myrtle busied himself with a tea kettle. “I was
going to get you a spot of sherry or something like
that, but I couldn’t stand looking at it,” he said.
“I’'d be so damned jealous. But the doctor has me
off the booze. Says I'll fall to pieces. And your
mother’s not ready to go just yet.”

After the stock market crash, Myrtle stayed on in
Paris and gained a reputation as a guide to Paris’
Montmartre and other bohemian hang-outs. He
knew the city like the back of his hand. Matrons
sought him out to show Paris’ bawdy night life.
Homosexuals knew him as a pimp who would al-
ways come up with a youth who would meet their