|
XXVII
We went together to the dining hall.
 The future belongs to the politician, the literato, the educator, those who correctly handle the rhetoric of detail. Always there is a particular detail which, if altered, serves to recast the entire scene. The fact that someone lay on the floor in that enormous room, so very empty, was enough to create the illusion of a welling disorder.
Manning came straight to me. "He's been poisoned," he said.
Dr. Montes, on his knees next to Cornejo's outstretched body, patted his vest in search of his watch. Atwell and the typist watched. "Someone, bring me my kit," my colleague stammered, alcohol in his voice.
"I'll get it right now," Manning responded. He departed industriously.
Only at that moment did I remember that Manning, according to the commissioner's directions, was to have been sequestered.
Cornejo's condition was not serious. As regards the attempted murder, I arrived at these conclusions: 1), the same drug had not been used as in the earlier case; and 2), there had been an error in the dosage. This fact might suggest a second murderer, or that the one murderer did not know the properties of this new drug.
Manning had not returned.
Mentally I pondered each person at the hotel and asked myself to whom I should most likely attribute such an error. Considering some of the suspects, I shuddered.
"What's keeping Manning?" Atwell exclaimed impatiently. "I'll go for the doctor's kit."
Aubry's grave and astonished eyes followed him to the door.
"Now we are all alone," commented the drunk.
Aubry did not reply. In that moment I began to doubt the commissioner's efficacy.
Atwell returned with the kit. He explained, "It was on Montes's bed. I don't understand how Dr. Manning failed to find it."
"Perhaps the difficulty now will be in finding Manning," Montes replied.
The gods, who are not ignorant of the future, often speak through the mouths of childrens and madmen. I understood that they also look with favor on the alcoholic.
My colleague opened the kit, and while he sought the caffeine, he discovered that a vial of veronal was missing.
I confess that, for an instant, I looked mistrustfully at Dr. Montes and wondered if his drunkenness was not, in part, an act. But now I must make an incredible declaration: when I encountered the Dr. Montes's half-closed eyes, I surprised in them a mocking suspicion.
I did not dally in inconsequentials. I thought anew of Cornejo's case. Veronal is the faulty weapon of those sleep in the moderate madness of love and do not wish to squander the fruits of a tragic death.
And now, like a flustered conjecture, a masterful hand, not at all careless, controlling the hypnotized subject, made its appearance. Cornejo's hand.
History points out those characters who grow through the failings of others. I had the impression that all of Aubry's earlier deficiencies had only served to strengthen Atwell. May I say, as a metaphor of my feelings, that I looked at the black face of my antimagnetic watch and took note of the exact time at which the great detective came onto the scene? I will add only that I recalled the affirmation of Parolles, that merit is rarely attributed to those who deserve it. Or, as Hamlet asks in his monologue, "Is it not monstruous?"
Atwell gave the order. "We have to find Miguel and Manning. One of them took the jewels. We can't give either the time to hide them forever."
Aubry looked at him with interest. "In such a sandstorm, you can't see two meters," he pointed out. "There's nothing we can do."
"So far nothing has been done," Atwell answered. "And permit me to say that your 'rigorous' sequestration of the suspects has accomplished nothing. I propose a more elemental means: order one of the officers to hold everyone together in one room." He turned to me. "Dr. Hubermann, in your judgment, does Dr. Cornejo's condition require your attention?"
I was not sure what to answer. I chose the truth. "I don't believe so," I said.
"Then we will form two groups," Atwell directed. "We must be armed in case the fugitives resist. Commissioner Aubry, with an officer, will go northwest and then fan toward the south. Dr. Hubermann and I will go first southeast and then turn toward the west. It's now 10:20. We'll try to be back here at 5 this afternoon. If you have eyeglasses, wear them."
The commissioner himself must have felt Atwell's unquestionable superiority. Atwell's plan was accepted without protest.
I went down to my room. I put on my beret, my glasses, the scarf my Aunt Charlotte knitted for me, my waterproof overcoat. I recalled our bivouac in Martinez, when I was a Boy Scout: the canteen bulged in one of my pockets, a packet of crackers in the other.
|
