ARTHUR
41

He examined himself and watched me for a minute in silence. "What are you afraid of?" said. "Don't I explain my wish? Just cross the river with me, because I can't navigate the boat alone. Is there anything difficult or mysterious in this endeavor? we split up on Jersey Beach, and I'll hand you over to your destiny." . All I'm going to ask of you is silence, and to hide from man what you know of me."

He now entered the boat and urged me to follow his example. Reluctantly, I felt that the boat contained only one paddle, and it was a small paddle. He looked surprised and very confused by this discovery. "It is impossible," he said, in a panicked and upset tone, "to get another at this hour: what to do?"

This barrier is completely insurmountable. I have muscular arms, and know very well how to use paddles for dual purpose paddles and steering. I picked up my station at the stern, and quickly took out the boat from its neighbors and from the dock. I don't know the river at all. The cross where he was saddled, I know his whereabouts, but in which direction and to what extent he exists, and how it can be avoided in the current state of ups and downs, I don't know. Therefore, it is possible, since I did not know that I was on the right track, our ship would soon run aground.

My attention, meanwhile, was on the paddle. My colleague sat in the bow, and in some ways went unnoticed. I occasionally set my eyes on the scenery I had left behind. His novelty, joining the incident of my condition, threw me into a tense and astonished state that often loosened my hands and left the ship to be propelled by the downward current. Lights were rarely seen, and this kept fluctuating, as poles, yards, and hulls were installed, and passed in front of them. As we receded from the coast, the commotion seemed to multiply, and the notion that the city was engaged in confusion and uproar did not easily give way to more mature thinking . Twelve is the hour of exclamation, and it rises all at once from all directions, and mixes with hordes of dogs, giving rise to a sense of trepidation and alarm.

From this state of overwhelming and terrible feeling I was suddenly called upon by Welbeck's behavior. We had just moved two hundred meters from the beach, when he dove into the water. The first conception is that some device or part of the ship has fallen into the sea. I looked back and realized that the chair was empty. In my first astonishment, I loosened my paddle handle, and the paddle drifted away. Its surface was smooth like glass, and the vortex caused by the sinking she was barely visible. I don't have time to determine if this was designed or unintentional. His arrival made me lose the strength to exert myself to help him. I wildly stared around me, hoping to see him rise. After some time, my attention was drawn, by the sound of agitation in the water, to a considerable distance.

It was too dark for anything to see clearly. No screaming for help. The voice was like the voice of someone who struggled violently for a moment, and then sank to the bottom. I listened with a painful desire, but was unable to discern the third signal. He sank to not get up again.

For a while I did not pay attention to my own situation. The terrible and unexpected of this calamity overwhelms me completely. The fast motion of the lights on the beach showed me that I was carried away quickly. How to help myself, how to get in my way or get back one of the beaches, because I have lost a paddle, I cannot say. I am no less confused to guess where the current is, if it has to control my vehicle, it will eventually take me.

I landed in a place not filled with mud and reeds. I sank knee-deep into the first one, and exhausted from exhaustion broke away. Finally I restored the solid ground, and threw myself into the grass to mend my wasted strength, and to contemplate the measures my future welfare commanded me to pursue.

What conditions have ever been at par with me? The past three days' transactions resembled monstrous delirium creations. They were painted with bright colors in my memory; but so quick and incompatible were these transitions that I almost denied the belief in their reality. They exerted a puzzling and astounding influence on my mind, from which one hour of meditation was barely enough to set me free. Slowly I regained the power to structure my ideas and make conclusions.

Welbeck is dead. His possessions were swallowed up, and his creditors wondered about his disappearance. All that is left is the furniture of his house, which will be claimed by Mrs. Wentworth, to pay the unpaid rent. What now is the fate that awaits the lost and unfriendly Mademoiselle Lodi? Where is he hidden? Welbeck did not give a signal by which I might be led to suspect his residence. If my strength, in other respects, could contribute anything to his relief, my ignorance of his asylum has crippled me altogether.

But what about the people who were killed? He suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth. His fate and burial place will probably be suspected and ascertained. Am I sure to escape the consequences of this act? Watson has relatives and friends. What influence on their circumstances and happiness would his untimely and mysterious fate have, is clear to ask. This idea leads me to the memory of his pocketbook. Some papers may be there explaining the situation.

I continued my steps. I don't know where to direct my steps. I fell because I was wet, and shivered in the cold. I am poor living and friends. I don't have any money or valuables I have. I moved forward mechanically and randomly. The place I landed was not far from the edge of the city. In a short time I found a flash of lights in the distance. For this I directed my step, and here I stopped to check the contents of the pocket book.