ARTHUR
29

I waited for hours in vain. The sun set, and the shadow of dusk fell; but Welbeck was still in the distance.

Welbeck did not return, although the clock changed hours until the clock showed ten o'clock. I asked the servants, who told me that their master was not used to going out so late. I sat at the table, in the living room, where there was a lamp standing, and listened to the signal of his arrival, either with the sound of steps on the sidewalk without or with the sound of a bell. The silence was unbroken and profound, and every minute increased the amount of my impatience and anxiety.

To escape the heat of the weather, which was aggravated by my state of mind, as well as to deceive these torturous intervals, it occurred to me to take myself to the bathroom. I left the candle where it stood, and imagined that even in the bathroom I would hear the bell ringing when it came to the door.

No such signal occurred, and, after drinking this drink, I prepared to return to my post. The living room was still empty, but this wasn't all; the candle I left on the table was gone. This is an unexplainable situation. On my promise to wait for their master, the servants are already asleep. No sign of anyone has been given. The door of the road is locked, and the key is hung in the usual place on the wall. What should I think? It is clear to suppose that the candles were removed by a housekeeper; but their traces were untraceable, and I did not know enough of the house to find the way, he said, especially those who were immersed in darkness, into their rooms. However, one action that seemed appropriate to take was to give myself, again, with light. This was done immediately; but what to do next?

I am tired of the confusion in which I am involved. I saw no way to escape them except the path that led me into the lap of nature and my ancient work. For a moment I was tempted to continue with my rustic attire, and, at that very moment, to leave this residence. One thing only held me back; the desire to tell my protector about Thetford's betrayal. To this end I was eager to get an interview; but now I contemplate that this information can in other ways be conveyed. Is it not enough to briefly write down these details, and let him take advantage of his knowledge? Thus , I can also introduce him to my motives for leaving his ministry suddenly and not in time.

For the implementation of this scheme pen and paper are required. Writing was done in a room on the third floor. I have been denied access to this room until now. Inside was a paper show and a book. This was where the task, which I had been detained for, had to be done; but I had to enter it and leave it only with Welbeck. For what reason, I asked, does this procedure have to be adopted?

The influence of prohibition and the appearance of disguise in arousing curiosity is well known. My mind was fixated on the idea of this room with an unusual level of intensity. I've seen it but for a moment. Much of Welbeck's time was spent in it. It cannot be concluded that they are consumed in laziness: then what is the nature of his work that masks such impenetrable secrecy?

Once again I stopped to catch any sounds that might appear from the outside. Everything quiet. I picked up the candle and prepared to climb the stairs. I had not reached the first landing when I remembered my midnight meeting with Welbeck at his daughter's bedroom door. The room was now quiet; perhaps it was accessible; if so, no injuries were done by putting it in. My curiosity is strong, but it describes itself as not the right object. Three steps will lead me to the door. The trial, whether it was tied up, was possible in an instant; and I easily imagined that something could be found inside to appreciate the difficulty of the examination. The door gave in to my hand, and I entered.

No extraordinary object can be found. The apartment was furnished with ordinary furniture. I bowed my steps towards the table where the mirror was hung. My gaze, which moved rapidly from one object to another, was immediately fixed on a mini portrait hanging nearby . I watched him excitedly. It was impossible to ignore his resemblance to my own face. This was so great that for a moment I imagined myself to be the original from which the picture was drawn. This flattering conception gives place to a belief that is only similar between me and the original.

The thoughts that are suitable for this opinion to produce are suspended by the new object. A small volume, which seemed to have been widely used, lay on top of the toilet. I opened it, and it turned out to contain some of the Apostolo Zeno Drama. I flipped the leaf; a written paper saluted my gaze. Tell me at a glance that it's English. For the time being I am insensitive to all the motives that would command me to be patient. I took the paper with the intention of reading it carefully.

At that moment a shocking report was heard. It was loud enough to shake the walls of the apartment, and sudden enough to make me tremble. I dropped the book and momentarily succumbed to confusion and shock. From which quarter it came, I could not determine accurately; but there was no doubt, from its loudness, that it was near, and even inside the house. No less real that the sound emerged from the release of the gun. Some hands must have pulled the trigger. I remembered the loss of the candle from the room below. Instantly a supposition shot into my mind that made my hair rise and my teeth chatter.

"This," I said, "is a Welbeck deed. He entered when I was not in the room; he hid in his room; and, encouraged by an unknown incitement, had caused death to himself!" This idea has a tendency to paralyze my limbs and my mind. Some time passed in painful and tumultuous fluctuations. My aversion to this calamity, instead of the belief that, in that way, was able to prevent or correct the crime, prompted me to try to enter his room. Maybe my guess was wrong.