Lorelei turned from--the man on her left, who had regaled her with an
endless story, the point of which had sent the teller into hiccoughs of
laughter, and said to John Merkle:
"I'm glad I'm with you to-night. I don't like drinking men."
"Can a girl in your position afford preferences?" he inquired, tartly.
Thus far the banker had fully lived up to his sour reputation.
"All women are extravagant. I have preferences, even if I CAN'T afford
them. If you were a tippler instead of a plain grouch I could tell you
precisely how you'd act and what you'd talk about as the evening goes
on. First you'd be gallant and attentive; then you'd forget me and talk
business with Mr. Wharton--he's nearest you. About that time I'd begin
to learn the real names of these lords of finance. After that you'd
become interested in my future. That's always the worst period. Once
I'd made you realize that you meant nothing in my life and that my
future was provided for, you'd tell me stories about your family--how
your wife is an invalid, how Tom is at Yale, how Susie is coming out in
the autumn, and how you really had no idea ladies were to be present
tonight or you'd never have risked coming. Finally you'd confess that
you were naturally impulsive, generous, and affectionate, and merely
lacked the encouragement of a kindred spirit like me to become a
terrible cut-up. Then you'd insist upon dancing. I'd die if I had to
teach you the tango."
Mr. Merkle grunted, "So would I."
She smiled sweetly. "You see, we're both unpleasant people."
Merkle meditated in silence while she attacked her food with a healthy,
youthful appetite that awoke his envy.
"I suppose you see a lot of this sort of thing?" he at length suggested.
"There's something of the kind nearly every night. Is this your first
experience?"
"Um-m--no. Steel men are notoriously sporty when they get away from
home. But I don't go out often."
"This party isn't as bad as some, for the very reason that most of the
men are from out of town and it's a bit of a novelty to them. But
there's a crowd of regular New-Yorkers--the younger men-about-town--"
She paused significantly. "I accepted one invitation from them."
"Only one?"
"It was quite enough."
"I've traveled some," observed Merkle, "but this city is getting to be
the limit."
She nodded her amber head. "There's only one Paris, after all, and
that's New York. Don't laugh; I read that. We girls remember all the
clever things we hear, and use them. Do you see the young person in
black and white with the red-nosed man--the one who looks as if he were
smelling a rose? Well, she's in our company, and she's very popular at
these parties because she's so witty. As a matter of fact, she
memorizes the jokes in all the funny papers and springs them as her
own. Her men friends say she's too original to be in the show business."
For a moment the girl at Merkle's right engaged his attention, and
Lorelei turned again to the incoherent story-teller beside her, who had
made it plain by pawing at her that he was bursting once more with
tidings of great merriment.
The meal grew noisier; the orchestra interspersed sensuous melodies
from the popular successes with the tantalizing rag-time airs that had
set the city to singing. Silent-footed attendants deposited
tissue-covered packages before the guests. There was a flutter of
excitement as the women began to examine their favors.
"What is it?" Merkle inquired, leaning toward Lorelei.
"The new saddle-bag purse. See? It's very Frenchy. Gold fittings--and a
coin-purse and card-case inside. See the monogram? I'm going to keep
this."
"Don't you keep all your gifts?"
"Not the expensive ones. Lilas picked these out for Mr. Hammon, and
they're exquisite. We share the same dressing-room, you know."
Merkle regarded her with a sudden new interest.
"You and she dress together?"
"Yes."
"Then--I dare say you're close friends?"
"We're close enough--in that room; but scarcely friends. What did you
get?"
He unrolled the package at his plate.
"A gold safety razor--evidently a warning not to play with edged tools.
I wonder if Miss Lynn bought one for Jarvis?"
"Now, why did you say that," Lorelei asked, quickly, "and why did you
ask in that peculiar tone if she and I were friends?"
The man leaned closer, saying in a voice that did not carry above the
clamor:
"I suppose you know she's making a fool of him? I suppose you realize
what it means when a woman of her stamp gets a man with money in her
power? You must know all there is to know from the outside; it occurred
to me that you might also know something about the inside of the
affair. Do you?"
"I'm afraid not. All I've heard is the common gossip."
"There's a good deal here that doesn't show on the surface. That woman
is a menace to a great many people, of whom I happen to be one."
"You speak as if she were a dangerous character, and as if she had
deliberately entangled him," Lorelei said, defendingly. "As a matter of
fact, she did nothing of the sort; she avoided him as long as she
could, but he forced his attentions upon her. He's a man who refuses
defeat. He persisted, he persecuted her until she was forced to--accept
him. Men of his wealth can do anything, you know. Sometimes I
think--but it's none of my business."
"What do you sometimes think?"
"That she hates him."
"Nonsense."
"I know she did at first; I don't wonder that she makes him pay now.
It's according to her code and the code of this business."
"I can't believe she--dislikes him."
"He may have won her finally, but at first she refused his gifts,
refused even to meet him."
"She had scruples?"
"No more than the rest of us, I presume. She gave her two weeks' notice
because he annoyed her; but before the time was up Bergman took a hand.
He sent for her one evening, and when she went down there was Mr.
Hammon, too. When she came up-stairs she was hysterical. She cried and
laughed and cursed--it was terrible."
"Curious," murmured the man, staring at the object of their
controversy. "What did she say?"
"Oh, nothing connected. She called him every kind of a monster, accused
him of every crime from murder to--"
"Murder!" The banker started.
"He had made a long fight to beat her down, and she was unstrung. She
seemed to have a queer physical aversion to him."
"Humph! She's got nobly over THAT."
"I've told you this because you seemed to think she's to blame, when it
is all Mr. Hammon's doing."
"It's a peculiar situation--very. You've interested me. But the man
himself is peculiar, extraordinary. You can't draw a proper line on his
conduct without knowing the circumstances of his home life, and, in
fact, his whole mental make-up. Sometime I'll tell you his story; I
think it would interest you. In a way I don't blame him for seeking
amusement and happiness where he can find it, and yet--I'm afraid of
the result. This supper means more than you can understand or than I
can explain."
"The city is full of Samsons, and most of them have their Delilahs."
Merkle agreed. "These men put Hammon where he is. I wonder if they will
let him stay there. It depends upon that girl yonder." He turned to
answer a question from Hannibal Wharton, and Lorelei gave her attention
to the part of the entertainment which was beginning on the stage. Turn
after turn appeared; black-faced comedians, feature acts from
vaudeville and from the reigning successes, high-priced singers,
dancers, monologists followed each other. Occasionally they were
applauded, but more frequently their efforts to amuse were lost in the
self-made merriment of the diners. Now and then an actor was bombarded
with jests or openly guyed. Music and wine flowed as steadily as the
crystal stream of the fountain; faces became flushed; glasses rang. The
women chattered; the men raised loud voices; the birds fluttered and
the peacocks shrieked. It all blended in a blood-stirring, Bacchanalian
joviality. Only now and then the frolic threatened to become a carouse,
and the revel bordered upon a debauch.
Of a sudden the clamor was silenced, and indifference gave place to
curiosity, for the music had begun the introduction to one of Adoree
Demorest's songs.
"Her rubies are the finest in the world." "Too strong for Paris, so she
came to New York." "Anything goes here if it's bad enough," came from
various quarters.
Lorelei had never seen this much-discussed actress, whose wickedness
had set the town agog, and her first impression was vaguely
disappointing. Miss Demorest's beauty was by no means remarkable,
although it was accentuated by the most bizarre creation of the French
shops. She was animated, audacious, Gallic in accent and postures--she
was vividly alive with a magnetism that meant much more than beauty;
but she over-exerted her voice, and her song was nothing to excite
applause. At last she was off, in a whirl of skirts, a generous display
of hosiery, and a great bobbing of the aigrette pompon that towered
above her like an Indian head-dress. Only a moment later she was on
again, this time in a daring costume of solid black, against and
through which her limbs flashed with startling effect as she performed
her famous Danse de Nuit.
"Hm-m! Nothing very extreme about that," remarked Merkle, at length.
"It would be beautiful if it were better done."
Lorelei agreed. She had been staring with all a woman's intentness at
this sister whose strength consisted of her frailty, and now inquired:
"How does she get away with it?"
"By the power of suggestion, I dare say. Her public is looking for
something devilish, and discovers whatever it chooses to imagine in
what she says and does."
Hannibal Wharton had changed his seat, and, regardless of the dancer,
began a conversation with Merkle. After a time Lorelei heard him say:
"It cost me five thousand dollars to pay for the damage those boys did.
They threatened to jail Bob, but of course I couldn't allow that."
"I remember. That was five years ago, and Bob hasn't changed a whit. I
think he's a menace to society."
Wharton laughed, but his reply was lost in the clamorous demand for an
encore by Mlle. Demorest.
"So he gets his devilment from you, eh?" Merkle inquired.
"It isn't devilment. Bob's all right. He's running with a fast crowd,
and he has to keep up his end."
"Bah! He hasn't been sober in a year."
"You're a dyspeptic, John. You were born with a gray beard, and you're
not growing younger. He wanted to come to this party, but--I didn't
care to have him for obvious reasons, so I told Hammon to refuse him
even if he asked. He bet me a thousand dollars that he'd come anyhow,
and I've been expecting him to overpower those doormen or creep up the
fire-escape."
The hand-clapping ceased as the dancer reappeared, smiling and bowing.
"I will dance again if you wish," she announced, in perfect English,
"introducing my new partner, Mr.--" she glanced into the wings
inquiringly--"Senor Roberto. It is his first public appearance in this
country, and we will endeavor to execute a variation of the Argentine
tango. Senor Roberto is a poor boy; he begs you to applaud him in order
that he may secure an engagement and support his old father." She
stooped laughingly to confer with the orchestra leader, who had broken
cover at her announcement.
Mr. Wharton was still talking. "That's my way of raising a son. I
taught Bob to drink when I drank, to smoke when I smoked, and all that.
My father raised me that way."
The opening strain of a Spanish dance floated out from the hidden
musicians, Mlle. Demorest whirled into view in the arms of a young man
in evening dress. She was still laughing, but her partner wore a grave
face, and his eyes were lowered; he followed the intricate movements of
the dance with some difficulty. To Lorelei he appeared disappointingly
amateurish. Then a ripple of merriment, growing into a guffaw, advised
her that something out of the ordinary was occurring.
"The--scoundrel!" Hannibal Wharton cried.
Merkle observed dryly: "He's won your thousand. I withdraw what I said
about him; it requires a gigantic intelligence to outwit you." To
Lorelei he added: "This will be considered a great joke on Broadway."
"That is Mr. Wharton's son?"
"It is--and the most dissipated lump of arrogance in New York."
"Bob," the father shouted, "quit that foolishness and come down here!"
But the junior Wharton, his eyes fixed upon the stage, merely danced
the harder. When the exhibition ended he bowed, hand in hand with Miss
Demorest, then leaped nimbly over the footlights and made his way
toward Jarvis Hammon, nodding to the men as he passed.
A moment later he sank into a chair near his father, saying: "Well,
dad, what d'you think of my educated legs? I learned that at night
school."
Wharton grumbled unintelligibly, but it was plain that he was not
entirely displeased at his son's prank.
"You were superb," said Merkle, warmly. "It's the best thing I ever saw
you do, Bob. You could almost make a living for yourself at it."
The young man grinned, showing rows of firm, strong teeth. Lorelei, who
was watching him, decided that he must have at least twice the usual
number; yet it was a good mouth--a good, big, generous mouth.
"Thanks for those glorious words of praise; that's more than we're
doing on the Street nowadays. Miss Demorest said we'd 'execute' the
dance, and we did. We certainly killed Senor Thomas W. Tango, and I'll
be shot at sunrise for stamping on Adoree's insteps. I looked before I
leaped, but I couldn't decide where to put my feet. Whew! Got any
grape-juice for a growing boy?" He helped himself to his father's
wine-glass and drained it. "You can settle now, dad--one thousand iron
men. I owe it to Demorest."
"What do you mean?"
"Debt of honor. I heard she was due here with some kind of an electric
thrill, so I offered her my share of the sweepstakes to further
disgrace herself by dancing with me. She's an expensive doll; she needs
that thousand--mortgage on the old family opera-house, no shoes for
little sister, and mother selling papers to square the landlord." He
caught Lorelei's eye and stared boldly. "Hello! I believe in fairies,
too, dad. Introduce me to the Princess."
Merkle volunteered this service, and Bob promptly hitched his chair
closer. Lorelei saw that he was very drunk, and marveled at his control
during the recent exhibition.
"Tell me more about the 'Parti-color Petticoat' and 'Dentol
Chewing-Gum,' Miss Knight. Your face is a household word in every
street-car," he began.
She replied promptly, quoting haphazard from the various advertisements
in which she figured. "It never shrinks; it holds its shape; it must be
seen to be appreciated; is cool, refreshing, and prevents decay."
"How did you meet that French dancer?" Hannibal Wharton queried,
sourly, of his son.
"I stormed the stage door, bullied the door-man, and waylaid her in the
wings. She thought I was you, dad. Wharton is a grand old name." He
chuckled at his father's exclamation. "She's a good fellow, though, and
I don't blame the King of What's-its-name. Kings have to spend their
money somewhere. Maybe I can induce her to invest some of the royal
dough in stocks and bonds. The prospect dizzies me."
"The crowd in your office would give you a banquet if you sold
something," Merkle told him.
Wharton, Senior, pressed for further information. "Where did you learn
those Argentine wiggles?"
"Hard times are to blame, dad. The old men on the Exchange play golf
all day, and the young ones turkey-trot all night. I stay up late in
the hope that I may find a quarter that some suburbanite has dropped.
It's dangerous to drive an automobile through a dark street these days;
one's liable to run down a starving banker or an indigent broker with a
piece of lead pipe and a mask. You find it so, don't you, Miss Knight?"
"I have no automobile," said the girl.
"Strange. Show business on the blink, too, eh?" The elder men rose and
sauntered away in the direction of their host, whereupon Bob winked.
"They've left us flat. Why? Because the wicked Mlle. Demorest has
finally made her appearance as a guest. My dad is a splendid
shock-absorber. Naughty, naughty papa!"
"It's probably well that you came with her; fathers are so indiscreet."
Young Wharton signaled to a waiter who was passing with a wine-bottle
in a napkin.
"Tarry!" he cried. "Remove the shroud, please, and let me look at poor
old Roderer. Thanks. How natural he tastes." Then to Lorelei: "The
governor is a woman-hater; but, just the same, I'm glad you drew Merkle
instead of him to-night, or there'd surely be a scandal in the Wharton
family. No man is safe in range of your liquid orbs, Miss Knight,
unless he has his marriage license sewed into his clothes. Mother keeps
hers framed. Wouldn't she enjoy reading the list of Hammon's guests at
this party? 'Among those present were Mr. Hannibal C. Wharton, the
well-known rolling-mill man; Miss Lorelei Knight, Principal First-Act
Fairy of the Bergman Revue; and Mlle. Adoree Demorest, the friend of a
king. A good time was had by all, and the diners enjoyed themselves
very nice.'" He laughed loudly, and the girl stirred.
"She'd be pleased to read also that you came late, but highly
intoxicated."
"Ah! Salvation Nell." Bob took no offense. "If the hour was late she'd
know that my intoxication followed as a matter of course. It always
does, just as the dew succeeds the sunset, as the track follows the
wheelbarrow, as the cracker pursues the cheese. I am a derivative of
alcohol, the one and infallible argument against temperance, Miss
Knight. In me you behold the shining example of all that puts the
reformer to rout and gladdens the heart of the cafe-keeper."
"You talk as if you were always drunk."
"Oh--not always. By day I am frequently sober, but at such times I am
fit company for neither man nor beast; I am harsh and unsympathetic; I
scheme and I connive. With nightfall, however, there comes a
metamorphosis. Ah! Believe ME! When the Clover Club is strained and
descends like the gentle dew of heaven, when the Bronx is mixed and the
Martini shimmers in the first rays of the electric light, then I
humanize and harmonize, For me gin is a tonic, rum a restorative,
vermuth a balm. Once I am stocked up with ales, wines, liquors, and
cigars, I become attuned to the nobler sentiments of life. I aspire. I
make friends with lonely derelicts whose digestions have foundered on
seas of vichy and buttermilk, and I show them the joys of
alcoholism--without cost. We share each other's pleasures and
perplexities, at my expense. They are my brothers. I am optimistic; I
laugh; I play cards for money; I turkey-trot. I become a living,
palpitating influence for good, spreading happiness and prosperity in
my wake."
"Do you consider yourself in such a condition now?" queried Lorelei,
who had been vaguely amused at this Rubaiyat.
"I am, and, since it is long past the closing hour of one and the
tango parlors are dark, suppose we blow this 'Who's Who in Pittsburg'
and taxi-cab it out to a roadhouse where the bass fiddle is still
inhabited and the second generation is trotting to the 'Robert E. Lee'?"
Lorelei shook her head with a smile.
"Don't you dance?"
"Doesn't everybody dance?"
"Then how did you break your leg?"
"I don't care to go."
"Strange!" Mr. Wharton helped himself to a goblet of wine, appearing to
heap the liquor above the edge of the glass. "Now, if I were sober I
could understand how you might prefer these 'pappy guys' to me, for
nobody likes me then, but I'm agreeably pickled. I'm just like
everybody you'll be likely to meet at this time of night. Merkle won't
take you anywhere, for he's full of distilled water and has a
directors' meeting at ten. I overflow with spirits and have a noontide
engagement with an Ostermoor."
"Why don't you ask Miss Demorest? She came with you?"
Wharton sighed hopelessly. "Something queer about that Jane. D'you know
what made us so late? She went to mass on the way down."
"Mass? At that hour?"
"It was a special midnight service conducted for actors. I sat in the
taxi and waited. It did me a lot of good."
Some time later Merkle returned to find Bob still animatedly talking;
catching Lorelei's eye, he signified a desire to speak with her, but
she found it difficult to escape from the intoxicated young man at her
side. At last, however, she succeeded, and joined her supper companion
at the farther edge of the fountain, where the tireless cupids still
poured water from the cornucopias.
Merkle was watching his friend's son with a frown.
"You have just left the personification of everything I detest," he
volunteered. "You heard what his father said about raising him--how he
taught Bob to drink when he drank and follow in his footsteps? Well,
sometimes the theory works and a boy grows up with open eyes, but more
often it turns out as it has in this case. Bob's an alcoholic, a common
drunkard, and he'll end in an institution, sure. He'd be there now if
it wasn't for Hannibal's money. He's run the gamut of extravagance;
he's done everything freakish that there is to do. But that isn't what
I want to say to you. Help me feed these foolish goldfish while I talk."
"Do you think anybody would understand if they overheard you? I fancied
you and I were the only sober ones left."
"Some of the girls are all right." Merkle eyed his companion closely.
"Don't you drink?"
"I daren't, even if I cared to."
"Daren't?"
"You'll notice that most of the pretty girls are sober."
"Right."
"I have nothing but my looks. Wouldn't I be a fool to sacrifice them?"
"You seem to be sensible, Miss Knight. Something tells me you're very
much the right sort. I know you're trying to get ahead, and--I can help
you if you'll help me."
"Help you 'get ahead'?"
He smiled. "Hardly. I need an agent, and I'll pay a good price to the
right person."
"How mysterious!"
"I'll be plain. That affair yonder"--he nodded toward Jarvis Hammon and
Lilas Lynn--"strikes you as a--well, as a flirtation of the ordinary
sort. In one way it is; in another way it is something very different,
for he's in earnest. He thinks he is injuring no one but himself with
this business, and he is willing to pay the price; but the fact is he
is putting other people in peril--me among the rest. I'm not arguing
for his wife nor the two Misses Hammon. I don't go much on the ordinary
kinds of morality, and nobody outside of a man's family has the right
to question his private life so long as it is private in its
consequences. But when his secret conduct affects his business affairs,
when it endangers vast interests in which others are concerned, then
his associates are entitled to take a hand. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly. But you don't want me; you want a detective."
"My dear child, we have them by the score. We hire them by the year,
and they have told us all they can. We need inside information."
The girl's answer was made with her habitual self-possession.
"I've heard about such things. I've heard about men prying into each
other's private affairs, pretending to be friends when they were
enemies, and using scandal for business ends. Lilas Lynn is my
friend--at least in a way--and Mr. Hammon is my host, just as he is
yours. Oh, I know; this isn't a conventional party, and I'm not here as
a conventional guest--inside the little coin-purse he gave me is a
hundred-dollar bill--but, just the same, I don't care to act as your
spy."
Merkle's grave attention arrested Lorelei's burst of indignation.
"Will you believe me," he asked, "when I tell you that Jarvis Hammon
and Hannibal Wharton are the two best friends I have in the world?
There is such a thing as loyalty and friendship even in big business;
in fact, high finance is founded on confidence and personal honor. This
is more than a business matter, Miss Knight."
"I can hardly believe that."
"It's true, however; I mean to serve Hammon. At the same time I must
serve myself and those who trust me. My honor is concerned in this as
well as his, and there is a rigid code in money matters. If what I
suspect is true, Hammon's infatuation promises to do harm to innocent
people. I fear--in fact, I'm sure--that he is being used. I've learned
things about Miss Lynn that you may not know. What you have told me
to-night adds to my anxiety, and I must know more."
"What, for instance?"
"Her real feeling for him--her intentions--her relations with a man
named Melcher--"
"Maxey Melcher?"
"The same. You know his business?"
"No."
"He is a gambler, a political power; a crafty, unscrupulous fellow who
represents--big people. By helping me you can serve many innocent
persons and, most of all, perhaps, Hammon himself."
Lorelei was silent for a moment. "This is very unusual," she said, at
length. "I don't know whether to believe you or not."
"Suppose, then, you let the matter rest and keep your eyes open. When
you convince yourself who means best to Jarvis--Miss Lynn and Melcher
and their crowd, or I and mine--make your decision. You may name your
own price."
"There wouldn't be any price," she told him, impatiently. "I'll wait."
Merkle bowed. "I can trust your discretion. Thank you for listening to
me, and thank you for being agreeable to an irascible old dyspeptic.
Will you permit me to drive you home when you're ready?"
"I'm ready now."
But as Lorelei made her way unobtrusively toward the cloak-room she
encountered Robert Wharton, who barred her path.
"Fairy Princess, you ran away," he declared, accusingly.
"I'm leaving." She saw that his intoxication had reached a more
advanced stage. His cheeks were flushed; his eyes were wild and
unsteady.
"Good news! The night is young; we'll watch it grow up."
"Thank you, no. I'm going home."
"A common mistake. Others have tried and failed." With extreme gravity
he focused his gaze upon her, saying, "Home is the one place that our
mayor can't close."
She extended her hand. "Good night."
"I don't understand. Speak English."
"Goodnight."
Wharton's countenance darkened unpleasantly, and his voice was rough.
"Where'd you learn that line? It's country stuff. We'll leave when I'm
ready. Now we'll have a trot."
The music was playing; other couples were dancing, and he seized her in
his arms, whirling her away. In and out among the chairs he piloted a
dizzy course, while she yielded reluctantly, conscious, meanwhile, that
Adoree Demorest was watching them with interest.
For an interval Wharton said nothing; then, with a change of tone, he
murmured in her ear: "D'you think I'd let you spoil the whole night?
Can't you see I'm crazy about you?"
Lorelei endeavored to free herself from his embrace, but he clutched
her the tighter and laughed insolently.
"Nothing like a good 'turkey' to get acquainted, is there? We're going
to dance till we're old folks."
She continued to struggle; they were out of step and out of time, but
he held her away from himself easily, bending a hot glance upon her
upturned face. She saw that he was panting and doubly drunk with her
nearness. "Don't fight. I've got you."
She was smiling faintly, out of habit, but, mistaking her expression,
he drew her close once more, then buried his face in her neck and
kissed her just at the turn of her bare shoulder.
Then she tore herself away, and his triumphant laugh was cut short as
she slapped him resoundingly, her stinging fingers leaving their
imprint on his cheek.
Her eyes were flaming and her lips were white with fury, though she
continued to smile.
"Here! What d'you mean by that?" he cried.
She silenced him sharply: "Hush! Remember you broke in here. I'd like
to see you in that fountain."
There was a swish of garments, a musical laugh, and Adoree Demorest was
between them.
"I'm madly jealous, Senor Roberto," she exclaimed. "Come, you must
dance once more with me. We'll finish this. What?" She swayed toward
him in sympathy with the music, snapping her fingers and humming the
words of the song.
"She--walloped me--like a sailor," the young man stammered,
incoherently. "She--wants to see me in the fountain."
"Then jump in like a gentleman," laughed the danseuse. "But dance with
me first." She entwined her arms about him and forced him into motion.
As she danced away she signaled over her shoulder to Lorelei, who made
haste to seek the cloak-room.
When she emerged John Merkle was waiting in the hall. A shout of
laughter echoed from the banquet-hall, and she started.
"That's nothing," Merkle told her. "Bob Wharton is in the fountain. He
says he's a goldfish."