ARTHUR
13

The man, as I judged from his voice, was the same person who had just left. The rustling of silk indicates that her friend is a woman. A few words spoken by the man, with the key too low to be heard, the woman sobbed. He tried to comfort her with a soothing tone and gentle pronunciation. "How does that help?" said. "It's time to continue your courage. Your duty to yourself and to me requires you to subdue this senseless sorrow."

He often speaks in this tension, but everything he says seems to have little effect in calming the woman down. However, over time, her sobs began to decrease in intensity and frequency. He urged her to seek rest. Apparently she was preparing to obey him, and the conversation stalled for a few minutes.

I could not help but advertise the possibility that some opportunity to check the closet, where I was buried, might happen. I don't know in what way to humble myself if this should happen. I have no choice at the moment. By withdrawing from view, I have lost the privilege of behaving honestly. But the thought of spending the night in this place cannot be allowed.

Slowly I began to see projects bursting out of the closet, and believing in the energy of truth and story without art, with more complacency. More than once my hand was put on the bolt, but it was pulled by a suddenly shaky resolution. When one attempt fails, I repeat once more to the reflection as it was adjusted to renew my goal.

I've considered which address I should use. I decided to be very explicit; to hold none of my adventures from the moment of my arrival. My description should fit some people in their knowledge. All I want is the freedom to leave; but, if this is not allowed, at least I might hope to escape any ill-treatment, and be confronted with my traitor. In this case I am not afraid to make him a witness to my innocence.

Influenced by this consideration, I once again touched on the key. At that moment the woman screamed, and exclaimed, "Oh my God! What's in here?" It was an interesting conversation. The object that aroused his astonishment was the boy. I gathered from what passed that discovery was entirely unexpected by him. Her husband acted as if he was equally oblivious to this event. He joined in all his cries of astonishment and all his wild conjectures. When this was a bit tired, he cleverly insinuated the speed of giving care to the little baby. Now I find that her grief was caused by the recent loss of her own offspring. She, for some time, rejected her husband's proposal, but was eventually persuaded to take the baby to her chest and feed him.

This incident has taken my mind off of her favorite project, and filled me with speculation about the nature of the scene. One explanation is clear, that the husband is the parent of this child, and has used this particular way to get the mother's protection from his wife. It would soon claim from him all the favors he entertained for his own descendants. There is no suspicion that it may not have been, or will come next, with respect to its actual parent. If her character is distinguished from the usual attributes of a woman, knowledge of this truth can turn her love into hatred. I contemplated with amazement how thin the thread by which human lust is directed from the actual direction. With no less astonishment, I commented on the complexity of the incident with which I was given the strength to convey this truth to him. How unfounded is the fabric of falsehood, which we build contrary to the eternal system of nature! If I had to escape undetected from this recess, it would be true that I never saw the face of any of these people, yet I became acquainted with the most secret transaction of their lives.

My own situation is now more critical than ever. The lights were extinguished, and the parties had been looking for a break. Getting out of the closet now would be very dangerous. My board stood back up and my design was frustrated. Meanwhile those people did not abandon their discourse, and I think I was justified in listening. Many of the most secret and important facts are alluded to. Some figures are not understandable. For others, I can add meaning that makes sense, and some are quite palpable. Every word spoken on that occasion is indelible in my memory. Perhaps the singularity of my circumstances, and my previous ignorance of what was happening in the world, contributed to making me a voracious listener. Most of what was said I would ignore; but one part of the conversation needed to be repeated.

A large company had gathered that night in their home. They criticize the character and behavior of some people. Finally the husband said, "What do you think of the nabob ? Especially when he talks about wealth? How ingenious he was to push the idea of his poverty! But no one believed it. I cannot explain the scheme myself. I half suspected that his wealth was flowing from a bad source, because he was very diligent in hiding it."

"Maybe, after all," said the woman, "You mistook his wealth."

"No way," cried the others. "Look how he lives. Did I not see his bank account ? His deposits, since he was here, amounted to no less than half a million."

"That," he replied, "that's what got me to agree with the plan. Thirty thousand is nothing."

"But won't he suspect you're involved in it?"

"How could he? Am I not going to seem as defeated as myself? Tom is my brother, but who can be asked to answer the integrity of a brother? but he can't suspect any of us. Nothing less than a miracle that could bring our plot to light. Besides, this guy is not who he should be. He will, one day, become a great deceiver. He made money with art aside from bargaining and selling. He has found his way, by some means, to the treasury."

Here the conversation took a new direction, and, after some time, a sleep silence ensued.

Who, I thought, was this nabob who counted his dollars to half a million, and to whom did it seem some fraud was meant to be committed? Amidst their vigilance and subtlety, how little did they realize that their conversation had been heard! In such an incomprehensible way that brought me here, I can further make a profit with this plot detection. But, in the meantime, what should I do? How do I escape from this dangerous mental hospital?

After much reflection, it occurred to me that to get on the road without drawing their attention was not impossible. Sleep usually does not end on its own, except for a certain period. What barriers are there between me and the freedom I cannot get rid of, and I remove them so carefully that they go unnoticed? Motion and sound inevitably go together; but every voice goes unnoticed. Cabinet doors and rooms do not creak on their hinges. The last one might be locked. I can confirm this only by experimentation. If so, the key may be inside the padlock, and it can be used without much noise.

I waited until their slow, hoarser inspiration showed that they were both asleep. At that time, while changing position, my head hit several objects hanging from the ceiling of the closet. They were tools of some kind that rattled each other as a result of this pesky blow. I was afraid just in case this sound had to alarm, because the closet was a bit away from the bed. A person's breathing instantly stopped, and movements were made as if the head was lifted from a pillow. This gesture by the husband woke up his friend who exclaimed, "What's wrong?"

"Something, I believe," he answered, "in the closet. If I don't dream, I hear guns attacking each other as if someone is dropping them."

This gesture was perfectly suited to warn the woman. He asked her to confirm the matter. This, which made me very disappointed, at first he agreed to do so, but at this time observed that perhaps his ear had mis-told him. It was almost impossible for the sound to come from them. Maybe it was the rat, or his own imagination that made it. It is not easy to describe my nervousness during this conference. I saw how easily their sleep was disturbed. The barriers to my escape were less insurmountable than I had imagined.

In a short time everything calmed down. I waited until the usual signs of sleep could be distinguished. I once again continue my efforts. The bolts were pulled with all possible slowness; but I could not prevent all the noise. My state was full of anxiety and tension; my painful attention was divided between the bolt and the sleeping state. The difficulty lies in providing a level of strength that is barely enough. Probably no less than fifteen minutes spent in this operation. It finally succeeded happily, and the door was opened carefully.