Native Son - Richard Wright [75]
Britten walked away from the trunk, running the fingers of his left hand nervously through his hair. Again he turned to Bigger.
“They got drunk, hunh?”
“Yessuh. They was drinking.”
“What did this Jan say to you?”
“He talked about the Communists….”
“How much did they drink?”
“It seemed like a lot to me, suh.”
“Then you brought ’em home?”
“I drove ’em through the park, suh.”
“Then you brought ’em home?”
“Yessuh. That was nearly two.”
“How drunk was Miss Dalton?”
“Well, she couldn’t hardly stand up, suh. When we got home, he had to lift her up the steps,” Bigger said with lowered eyes.
“That’s all right, boy. You can talk to us about it,” Britten said. “Just how drunk was she?”
“She passed out,” Bigger said.
Britten looked at Dalton.
“She could not have left this house by herself,” Britten said. “If Mrs. Dalton’s right, then she could not have left.” Britten stared at Bigger and Bigger felt that some deeper question was on Britten’s mind.
“What else happened?”
He would shoot now; he would let them have some of it.
“Well, I told you Miss Dalton told me to take the trunk. I said that ’cause she told me not to tell about me taking her to the Loop It was Mr. Jan who told me to take the trunk down and not put the car away.”
“He told you not to put the car away and to take the trunk?”
“Yessuh. That’s right.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before, Bigger?” asked Mr. Dalton.
“She told me not to, suh.”
“How was this Jan acting?” Britten asked.
“He was drunk,” said Bigger, feeling that now was the time to drag Jan in definitely. “Mr. Jan was the one who told me to take the trunk down and leave the car in the snow. I told you Miss Dalton told me that, but he told me. I would’ve been giving the whole thing away if I had told about Mr. Jan.”
Britten walked toward the furnace and back again; the furnace droned as before. Bigger hoped that no one would try to look into it now; his throat grew dry. Then he started nervously as Britten whirled and pointed his finger into his face.
“What did he say about the Party?”
“Suh?”
“Aw, come on, boy! Don’t stall! Tell me what he said about the Party!”
“The party? He asked me to sit at his table….”
“I mean the Party!”
“It wasn’t a party, mister. He made me sit at his table and he bought chicken and told me to eat. I didn’t want to, but he made me and it was my job.”
Britten came close to Bigger and narrowed his grey eyes.
“What unit are you in?”
“Suh?”
“Come on, Comrade, tell me what unit you are in?”
Bigger gazed at him, speechless, alarmed.
“Who’s your organizer?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Bigger said, his voice quavering.
“Don’t you read the Daily?”
“Daily what?”
“Didn’t you know Jan before you came to work here?”
“Nawsuh. Nawsuh!”
“Didn’t they send you to Russia?”
Bigger stared and did not answer. He knew now that Britten was trying to find out if he were a Communist. It was something he had not counted on, ever. He stood up, trembling. He had not thought that this thing could cut two ways. Slowly, he shook his head and backed away.
“Nawsuh. You got me wrong. I ain’t never fooled around with them folks. Miss Dalton and Mr. Jan was the first ones I ever met, so help me God!”
Britten followed Bigger till Bigger’s head struck the wall. Bigger looked squarely into his eyes. Britten, with a movement so fast that Bigger did not see it, grabbed him in the collar and rammed his head hard against the wall. He saw a flash of red.
“You are a Communist, you goddamn black sonofabitch! And you’re going to tell me about Miss Dalton and that Jan bastard!”
“Nawsuh! I ain’t no Communist! Nawsuh!”
“Well, what’s this?” Britten jerked from his pocket the small packet of pamphlets that Bigger had put in his dresser drawer, and held them under his eyes. “You know you’re lying! Come on, talk!”
“Nawsuh! You got me wrong! Mr. Jan gave me them things! He and Miss Dalton told me to read ’em….”
“Didn’t you know Miss Dalton before?”
“Nawsuh!”
“Wait, Britten!” Mr. Dalton laid his hand on Britten’s arm. “Wait. There’s something to what he says. She tried to talk