Chapter 29 Chapter Twenty Nine

Aunt Alexandra stood up and put her hand on the mantelpiece.Mr. Tate got up quickly, but Aunt Alexandra didn't let him help him.For the first time in his life Atticus did not show his natural humility—he sat still. For some reason, all I can think about is that one line that Mr. Bob Ewell said--he threatened that he wouldn't let Atticus go with him for the rest of his life.Mr. Ewell almost got his wish this time, and it was the last thing he would do in his life. "Are you sure?" Atticus' voice was dark. "He's dead," said Mr. Tate. "That's right. He can't do any more harm to the children."

"That's not what I meant," murmured Atticus dreamily.He suddenly looked a little old, which shows that his mind seems to be stuffed into a mess at this moment: his originally strong jaw has become loose; It is clearly visible; his black hair is not so conspicuous, but the graying sideburns are more conspicuous. "Shouldn't we talk better in the living room?" said Aunt Alexandra at last. "If you don't mind," said Mr. Tate, "I reckon we'd better talk here, as long as it doesn't interfere with Jem's rest. I want to see how he's hurt, and hear about Scout . . . for us." Tell me what happened."

"Is it okay if I go away?" she asked. "I'm just redundant here. Atticus, just call me if you need me, and I'll stay in my room." Alexandra Aunt walked towards the door, but stopped and turned around. "Atticus, I had a hunch about what happened tonight...I...it was all my fault," she couldn't help it, "I should have..." Mr. Tate held out his hand to signal her to stop. "You go first, Miss Alexandra. I know, this matter is very exciting to you. Don't think about it and make it difficult for yourself-how should I say, if we are always led by the nose, Like a cat chasing its own tail in circles. Miss Scout, can you tell us what happened while your memory is still fresh? Do you think it's okay? Did you see him following you all the time? "

I walked up to Atticus and felt his arms wrap around me.I buried my head in his lap. "We two started walking home. I said to Jem I forgot my shoes, and we went back to look for them. But the lights were out at school, and Jem said I could get them to-morrow..." "Scout, look up and let Mr. Tate hear you better," Atticus said to me.I climbed onto his lap and sat in his arms. "Walking along, Jem told me to keep quiet. I thought he was thinking of something--he always told me to keep quiet when he was trying to think. After a while he said he heard something. We thought It's Cecil at work."

"Cecile?" "It's Cecil Jacobs. He frightened us once tonight, and we thought he was at it again. He had a sheet on him then. The prize for best costume is a quarter I don't even know who got the money..." "When you thought it was Cecil, where did you go?" "Not far from the school. I yelled at him..." "What are you shouting for?" "I remember 'Cecile's a big fat hen'. We didn't hear anyone respond... After a while, Jem yelled 'Hello' or something, so loud it could wake the dead up... " "Wait a minute, Scout," said Mr. Tate. "Mr. Finch, did you hear them?"

Atticus said he didn't hear.He was on the radio at the time.Aunt Alexandra was also listening to the radio in her bedroom.He remembered it well, because Aunt Alexandra told him to turn the volume down, or she wouldn't be able to hear herself.Atticus smiled slightly. "I'm always turning the volume on the radio really loud." "I don't know if the neighbors heard anything..." Mr. Tate said. "I don't think so, Heck. Most of them are either listening to the radio or going to bed early. Miss Maudie may not be asleep, but I don't think it's likely to hear."

"Go on, Scout," Mr. Tate said to me again. "Oh, Jem yelled, and we walked on again. Mr. Tate, I was all in my costume, but then I heard that sound too, I mean footsteps. Let's go Well, the footsteps followed, and we stopped, and the footsteps stopped. Jem said he could see me because Mrs. Crenshaw put some glow paint on my costume. I was playing Ham. " "What's the matter?" asked Mr. Tate in surprise. Atticus explained to Mr. Tate the part I was playing, and the construction of my costume. "You should have seen her when she came back," he said. "The costumes were squeezed out of shape."

Mr. Tate stroked his chin. "I wondered how Ewell got those marks. He's got a lot of little holes pierced on his sleeve, and a puncture wound or two on his arm that fits with those little holes. If it's convenient, can someone Shall I see what you said?" Atticus went and got my tattered costume.Mr. Tate turned it over and over in his hand, trying to figure out what shape it was. "That probably saved her life," he said. "You see." He held out his long forefinger, and pointed it to Atticus—a neat streak of light on the gray barbed wire stood out. "Bob Ewell looks like he's got it right," muttered Mr. Tate to himself.

"He's out of his head," said Atticus. "I don't want to contradict you, Mr. Finch, but he's not crazy, he's ruthless. This vile bastard, emboldened by wine, dares to kill a child. He never dared to confront anyone head-on." Atticus shook his head. "I can't imagine anyone—" "Mr. Finch, there are people in the world who you have to shoot before you say hello. Even so, their lives are not worth the bullet. Ewell was one of them." Atticus said: "I thought he'd let it all out after threatening me that time. Even if he didn't let it go, I thought he'd come after me."

"He has the audacity to harass a poor black woman, he has the audacity to come to Judge Taylor's house and make trouble when no one is there -- how dare you go head-to-head with you in broad daylight?" Tate The mister sighed. "Let's get on with it. Scout, you heard him follow you—" "Yes, sir. When we got under the tree—" "How do you know it's under a tree? You can't see anything under the cover." "I was barefoot. Jem said the ground was cooler under the trees than anywhere else." "Looks like we'll have to have him as a second in command. Go on."

"Then, suddenly, someone grabbed me and slammed into my costume... I remember I was lying on the ground... I heard a scuffle from under a tree... It sounded like they were banging on the trunk. Jay Tom found me and pulled me up the road. Somebody—it was Mr. Ewell, yanked him down, I guess. They wrestled again, and I heard a strange noise— Then Jem let out a scream..." I stopped—that's when Jem broke his arm. "Anyway, Jem let out a yelp, and I never heard him again. Then Mr. Ewell strangled me again, and I think...someone pulled him off the ground. Jem, I guess. Got up. That's all I remember..." "And then?" Mr. Tate fixed me with sharp eyes. "Someone was staggering to and fro wheezing--coughing like hell. I thought it was Jem at first, but it didn't sound like him, so I groped around on the floor looking for it. Him. I thought it was Atticus coming to help us, I'm so tired..." "who's that person?" "He's over there, Mr. Tate, and he can tell you what his name is." As I spoke, I half-raised my hand and pointed at the man in the corner.But I quickly put my hand down after a little finger lest Atticus should scold me.Because pointing at people is impolite. He is still leaning against the wall.When I came in, he was standing against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, and he just stood there the whole time.When I pointed to him, he lowered his arms and pressed his palms against the wall.They were pale hands, sickly hands that had never been in the sun, and in the dim light of Jem's room they were so white against the cream-coloured walls. I looked from his hands down to his sandy khaki trousers and up his lean frame to his torn denim shirt.His face was as pale as his hands, save for a shadow on the protruding chin.His cheeks were sunken, with a wide mouth in the middle; his temples were also slightly sunken, almost imperceptible; and his gray eyes were so dull and lifeless that I mistook him for a blind man.His thin, lifeless-looking hair fell almost like a feather on the top of his head. When I pointed at him, his palm slid gently against the wall, leaving two greasy sweat stains, and then dug two thumbs into the belt.There was an inexplicable slight spasm across his body, as if he heard the sound of nails scraping a slate.However, under my curious gaze, the tension on his face slowly dissipated.His lips parted slightly, revealing a shy smile.Tears suddenly filled my eyes, and the neighbor's face instantly became blurred. "Hello, weirdo," I said.