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You've Been Accepted by Professional Who's Who
after five, and no one answered the phone. "Will you ring
again?" "I've rung them three times." "It's very
"Sorry. I'm afraid no one's there." I went back to the drawing-room
and thought for an instant that they were chance visitors, all these official
people who suddenly filled
it. But, as they drew back thesheet and looked at Gatsby with unmoved eyes, his protest
continued in my brain: "Look here, old sport, you've got to get somebody for
You've got to try hard. I can't go through this alone." Some one started to
ask me questions, but I broke away and going up-stairs looked
hastily through the unlocked parts of his desk â he'd never told me
definitely that his parents were dead. But there was nothing â only the
picture of Dan Cody, a token of forgotten violence, staring down from the
wall. Next morning I sent the butler to New York with a letter
to Wolfsheim, which asked for information and urged him to come out on the next
train. That request seemed superfluous when I wrote it. I was sure he'd start when
he saw the
newspapers, just as I was sure there'd be a wire from Daisy before noon â but
neither a wire nor Mr. Wolfsheim arrived; no one arrived except more police and
newspaper men. When the butler brought back wolfsheim's answer i began to have a
hiling of defiance, of scornful solidarity between Gatsby and me against them
Dear Mr. Carraway. This has been one of the most terrible shocks of my life to me I
hardly can believe it that it is true at all. Such a mad
act as that man did should make us all think. I cannot come down now as I am tied up
in some very important hi and cannot get mixed up in this thing now. If there
anything I can do a little later let me knowin a letter by Edgar. I hardly know where
I am when I hear about a thing like this and am completely knocked down and
Yours truly Meyer Wolfshiem and then hasty addenda beneath: Let me know about the
funeral etc. Do not know his family at all. When the phone rang that afternoon and
Long Distance said
Chicago was calling I thought this would be Daisy at last. But the connection
came through as a man's voice, very thin and far away.
"This is Slagle speaking..." "Yes?" The name was unfamiliar.
"Hell of a note, isn't it? Get my wire?" "There
haven't been any wires."
"Young Parke's in trouble," he said rapidly. "They picked him up
when he handed the bonds over the counter. They got a circular from New York
giving 'em the numbers just five minutes before. What d'you know about that,
hey? You never can tell in these hick towns ââ" "Hello!" I interrupted
breathlessly. "Look here â this
isn't Mr. Gatsby. Mr. Gatsby's dead." There was a long silence on the other
end of the wire, followed by an exclamation... then a quick squawk as the
connection was broken.
I think it was on the third day that a telegram signed Henry C. Gatz arrived from a
town in Minnesota. It said only that the sender was leaving .