I hadn't the faintest idea what “this matter” was, but I was more annoyed than interested. I hadn't asked Jordan to tea in order to discuss Mr. Jay Gatsby.
He did not say another word. His correctness grew on him as we neared the city. We passed Port Roosevelt, and sped along the suburbs. I heard the familiar sound of the motorcycle, and a frantic policeman stood before us.
“All right, old sport,” said Gatsby. We slowed down. Taking a white card from his wallet he waved it before the policeman's eyes.
“All right,” agreed the policeman. “I'll know your automobile next time, Mr. Gatsby. Excuse me!”
“What was that?” I inquired. “The picture of Oxford?”
“I did the commissioner a favor once, and he sends me a Christmas card every year.”
The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, it shows its wild mystery and beauty.
“Anything can happen now,” I thought; “anything at all.”
* * *
At noon I met Gatsby for lunch. In the anteroom he was talking to a man.
“Mr. Carraway, this is my friend Mr. Wolfsheim.”
Gatsby took an arm of each of us and moved forward into the restaurant.
“This is a nice restaurant here,” said Mr. Wolfsheim looking at the nymphs on the ceiling. “But I like across the street better!”
“It's too hot over there,” agreed Gatsby.
“Hot and small – yes,” said Mr. Wolfsheim, “but full of memories.”
“What place is that?” I asked.
“The old Metropole.”
“The old Metropole,” said Mr. Wolfsheim gloomily. “Filled with faces dead and gone. Filled with friends gone now forever. I can't forget the night they shot Rosy Rosenthal there. It was six of us at the table and Rosy was eating and drinking a lot all evening. When it was almost morning the waiter came up to him with a funny look and said somebody wanted to speak to him outside. 'All right,' says Rosy and begins to get up and I pulled him down in his chair. 'Let the bastards come in here if they want you, Rosy, but don't you.' It was four o'clock in the morning.”
“Did he go?” I asked innocently.
“Sure he went,” Mr. Wolfsheim said indignantly. “He turned around in the door and said, 'Don't let that waiter take away my coffee!' Then he went out and they shot him three times in his full belly and drove away.”
“Four of them were electrocuted,” I said, remembering.