Chapter 14 Chapter Thirteen Hunting for Sunday

The next morning the five dazed and happy men set sail for Dover.The poor old colonel may have reason to complain, since he was the first to be forced to fight for two non-existent factions, and to be struck down by an iron lamp.But he was a magnanimous old gentleman, and he was very relieved that neither faction was a bomber, and he kindly saw them off on the pier. These five reconciled detectives have many details to share with each other.The secretary told Syme that they wore masks in the first place to get closer to their supposed enemies. Syme explained to the secretary why they had fled so quickly in a civilized country.But all these details that can be explained raise a series of important questions that they cannot explain.What are the implications of all these things?If they were all harmless police officers, then who was Sunday?If he doesn't control the whole world, then what the hell is he doing?

Inspector Ratcliffe was still sullen about it. "I don't know any more about Sunday than you do," he said, "but whoever he is, he's not a clean citizen. Damn it! Do you remember his face?" "I admit," replied Syme, "I'll never forget that face." "Well," said the secretary, "I think we can find out soon, because we have a general meeting tomorrow. Excuse me," he said with a horrible smile, "I am very familiar with my duties as secretary. .” "I think you're right," said the professor thoughtfully. "I think we can find out the truth from him. I admit, though, that I'm a little hesitant to ask Sunday who he is."

"Why," asked the secretary, "are you afraid of bombs?" "No," said the professor, "I'm afraid he'll tell me." "Let's have a drink," said Dr. Bull after a silence. Throughout the journey, they instinctively came together and were very happy.Dr Bull was always the happy man of the group, and in Victoria he tried to persuade the others to take a hansom, but was overruled, and they took a hansom, with Dr Bull in the driver's seat Sing.Their journey ended at a hotel in Piccadilly Circus, near where they were to hold their breakfast meeting in Leicester Square the next morning.Until then, though, the day's adventures aren't quite over.Dr. Bull refused the suggestion to put everyone to bed, and about eleven o'clock he left the hotel to see the sights of London.When he returned to the hotel twenty minutes later, there was a commotion in the lobby.At first Syme tried to appease him, but at last he was forced to listen to him.

"I told you I saw him!" said Dr. Bull hoarsely. "Who did you see?" asked Syme at once. "It's not Sunday, is it?" "It's not that bad," finished Dr. Bull, laughing. "It's not that bad. But I ran into him here." "Who met here?" asked Syme impatiently. "The hairy man," said the other clearly, "the one who used to be hairy—Gogol. He's here." Then he took the reluctant Gogol's elbow and came to Syme.The young man, who was the same man five days earlier, with his thinning red hair and pale face, was forced to leave the venue, was the first fake anarchist to be exposed.

"Why do you still worry about me?" he cried. "You have deported me as a spy." "We're all spies!" whispered Syme. "We're all spies!" cried Dr. Bull. "Come and have a drink." The next morning, the reunited six strode together to the restaurant in Leicester Square. "It's all the more pleasant," said Dr. Bull, "for six of us to ask a man's intentions." "I think it's odder," said Syme. "I think it's six people asking a man what they mean to him." They walked into the square without saying a word. Even though the restaurant was on the opposite street corner, they all saw the small balcony and the oversized person.He was sitting alone, looking down at the newspaper.But all the council members who came to depose him walked through the square as if they were being watched by a hundred eyes from heaven.

Before that, they had debated tactics back and forth, either leaving out the revealing Gogol and the rest of the group opening slickly;Syme and Bull prevailed on the latter course, but the secretary asked them to the end why they were so rash in attacking Sunday. "My reason is simple," said Syme, "that I attack him rashly because I am afraid of him." In silence they followed Syme up the shadowy stairs, and then in the bright morning light, while giving Sunday a broad smile. "How delightful!" said Sunday, "good to see you all there. What a day it is. Is the Tsar dead?"

The secretary happened to be at the front, and he pulled himself together to make a decent speech. "No, sir," he said firmly, "there was no massacre. I bring you news that no such abominable scene took place." "Abominable scene?" repeated Sunday, laughing, with an inquiring look on his face. "You mean Dr. Bull's glasses?" The secretary choked up, and continued in Sunday's melodious voice: "Of course, we all have our opinions, even our eyes, but to call them abominable in his own presence—" Dr. Bull ripped off his glasses and smashed them on the table.

"My glasses are vulgar," he said, "but I'm not. Look at my face." "I daresay it's a decent face that should grow on a man," said Sunday, "but in fact it grows on you. How can I be with the face that grows on the tree of life?" Where is the wild fruit quarrel? I bet it will grow on me someday." "We don't have time to mess around," put in the secretary savagely, "we're here to find out what it all means. Who are you? What do you do? Why did you bring us here before? You know who we are , what is it for? Are you a fool playing a plotter, or a wise man playing a fool? I ask you to answer me."

"Candidates," whispered Sunday, "only need to answer eight of the seventeen questions on the paper. As far as I know, you want me to tell you what I do, what do you do, and this table The purpose of existence, the purpose of this council, and the purpose of this world. Well, I'm going to tear the veil off this mystery. If you want to know what you do, you are a bunch of young people with good intentions Fool." "And you," said Syme, leaning over, "what do you do?" "Me? What am I for?" Sunday bellowed, rising slowly to an unbelievable height. He was like a giant wave, about to drown them. "You want to know what I do, don't you? Bull, you're a scientist, digging up the roots of those trees to find out the truth about them. Syme, you're a poet, look at those morning clouds. I'm going to tell You, you must find out the truth about the last tree and the tallest cloud before you can know me. You will know the sea, but I will remain a mystery. You will know the stars, but not me. The world In the beginning, all men hunted me like a jackal—kings and sages, poets and legislators, all churches, and all philosophies. But I have never been caught, and the sky falls when I am cornered. I have let They have made real runs time and time again, now you can come after them again."

Before any of them could move, the giant leaped like a gorilla over the balcony railing.Just before he hit the ground, he pulled himself up again as if on a horizontal bar, put his huge chin on the edge of the balcony, and said solemnly— "I can tell you who I am. I'm the one who stays in the dark room and turns you all into cops." After speaking, he jumped down, hopping like a huge Indian ball on the stones below, and then hopping and rushing to the corner next to the Alhambra Palace, where he boarded a chariot.At his last speech the six detectives were dumbfounded and blue.But Syme's sense of reality returned when he climbed into the carriage, nearly broke his leg by jumping off the balcony in desperation, and called a carriage too.

Syme and Bull jumped into the same carriage, the professor and the inspector into another, while the secretary and the man who had previously impersonated Gogol climbed into the third just in time to keep up with the galloping Syme. , while Syme was chasing the galloping Sunday.Sunday galloped northwest, and his coachman, evidently lured by his extravagance, drove his horse as fast as he could.But Syme was not in the mood to pretend to be elegant. He stood in the carriage and shouted, "Catch the thief!" The crowd ran towards his carriage, and the police stopped by the roadside to ask questions.All this affected Sunday's coachman, who began to look hesitant, and the carriage began to slow down.He opened the partition to talk to his passenger, and hung his long whip from the front of the carriage.Suddenly Sunday leaned forward, yanked the whip out of the driver's hand, and stood at the front of the wagon, lashing the horses with the whip and roaring, and they stormed through the streets.The carriage went from street to street, from square to square, its passengers galloping, and the coachman desperately stopped him.The remaining three wagons followed (if that can be said of the wagons) like panting hounds.Shops and streets flew by like whizzing arrows. Excited by the speed, Sunday turned on the fenders and poked his huge grinning head out of the wagon, his white hair howling in the wind, like a gigantic urchin His pursuer made a horrible grimace.Then he quickly raised his right hand, threw a ball of paper at Syme, and disappeared.Syme ducked instinctively, but caught the ball of paper, which he found to be two crumpled sheets.One of them was addressed to him, the other to Dr. Bull, and after Dr. Bull's name was a very long string of letters, which may be somewhat ironic.In any case, Dr. Bull's address was much longer than the letter he received, because his letter consisted of only this sentence—— "How is Martin Tapp now?" "What does the old madman mean?" asked Bull, staring at the sentence. "What did your letter say, Sam?" Syme's letter was longer, and it went like this— "No one regrets the Archdeacon's ostentatious interference more than I do. I'm sure it won't be like that in the future. But, in the end, where are your galoshes? It's too bad, especially after Uncle's words." As they all charged into the Edgewyer Road, Sunday's coachman seemed to have regained a little control of his horses, and the pursuers were somewhat catching up.But here, the carriages of those allies stopped.All kinds of traffic turn right, turn left, or stand still, because at the other end of the long road, there is no doubt that a roaring fire engine is coming, and within a few seconds it is like a deafening thunderbolt Like a flash.As it sped by, Sunday jumped out of his wagon, ran to the fire engine, and clutching the handlebars, flung himself onto it, before being seen explaining the The gesturing and talking of the surprised firefighter then disappeared. "Follow him!" growled Syme. "He can't get away now. We won't mistake the fire engine." The three stunned coachmen drove the horses, closing the distance between them and their disappearing prey a little.Sunday walked to the back of the carriage, bowed repeatedly to the gradually approaching carriage, kissed his hand, and finally threw a neatly folded note into Inspector Ratcliffe's arms.He opened it impatiently, and found the following text inside—— "Run immediately. The truth about your pants straightener is known. "--a friend." The fire truck headed north, into an area they didn't recognize.As it drove past a high fence, the six friends were stunned and somewhat relieved to see Sunday jump off the fire truck, though they didn't know it was Sunday's whim However, it was still because of the loud protests of the firefighters in the car.However, before the three carriages arrived, Sunday had climbed the high fence like a huge gray cat, turned over, jumped in, and disappeared into the dark bushes. With an angry gesture, Syme stopped the buggy, jumped out, and prepared to go over the fence too.When he straddled one leg over the fence, his friends followed, and he turned toward them, his face glowing white in the shade of the trees. "What's this going to be?" asked Syme. "Is this the old devil's house? I hear he has a house in North London." "It would be better if this is the case," the secretary said seriously, stepping on the fence, "we can find him at home." "No, it's not like that," said Syme, frowning. "I heard the most horrible noises, like devils sneezing and blowing their evil noses!" "It must be his dog barking," said the secretary. "Why don't you say it's his Oriental cockroaches barking!" said Syme angrily. "Snails barking! Geraniums barking! Did you ever hear a dog bark like that?" As Syme raised a hand, there came from the bushes a long, shuddering, and seemingly blood-freezing cry—a low, blood-curdling cry that made the air around them freeze. shook. "Sunday's dog will not be an ordinary dog," Gogol said tremblingly. Syme jumped to the other side of the fence, but he still listened anxiously. "Hey, listen to this," he said, "is this a normal barking dog?" Suddenly a hoarse scream sounded in their ears, as if something was protesting and clamoring in the sting.Then, like an echo in the distance, came the long elephant's roar. "Hey, his house is like hell!" said the secretary, "if it is, I'll go in and see!" With that, he jumped over the high fence. Others followed suit.They passed through thick woods and bushes, and came to an open path, in which they saw nothing living.Dr. Bull clapped his hands suddenly. "Hey, you fools," he cried, "this is the zoo!" While they were looking frantically about for signs of their frenzied prey, a uniformed warden and a man in civilian clothes came running down the path. "Did it come here?" asked the caretaker, out of breath. "What?" asked Syme. "Elephant!" cried the steward. "An elephant ran like crazy!" "He's gone off with an old gentleman," gasped the other stranger, "a poor old gentleman with white hair!" "What kind of old gentleman?" asked Syme, very curiously. "A big fat old gentleman in light gray," said the administrator eagerly. "Well," said Syme, "if he's the old gentleman, if you're sure he's a big fat old gentleman in gray, you'll take my word for it, it wasn't the elephant that ran with him. And It was he who ran away with the elephant. By God, the elephant wouldn't have run away with him if he hadn't consented to run. And, sure enough, there he is!" This time there is really no doubt.On the other side of the grass, some two hundred yards away, a gigantic gray elephant, its tusks stretched like The bowsprit was as stiff as it was, and howled like a death horn.On the back of this galloping beast sat Sunday, composed as a sultan, but with a sharp object in his hand he was driving it wildly. "Stop him!" cried the crowd, "he's going to run out the gate!" "Stop a landslide!" cried the warden. "He's out the gate!" No sooner had the words been spoken than a final bump and horrific howl announced that the gray elephant had burst through the gates of the zoo and wobbled down Albany Street like a fast new bus. "My God!" cried Bull, "I never thought an elephant could run so fast. Why, we'll have to take a hansom again if we're going to keep up with him." Syme was dazzled by the sight of strange animals in cages as they ran towards the gate.He found it odd that he should have seen them clearly.He especially remembered pelicans, with their ridiculously drooping necks.He wonders why the pelican is a symbol of kindness, he just knows it takes extreme kindness to appreciate a pelican.He remembered a hornbill, which was literally a small bird attached to the back of a huge yellow beak.All these made him feel inexplicably and clearly that nature always plays some mysterious jokes.Sunday had told them that they could only understand him when they understood the stars.And Syme wondered if angels could understand hornbills. These six sullen detectives hop into their wagons to stalk the elephant, while also bearing the terror it spreads on Long Street.This time Sunday didn't turn his back, but turned his thick, insensate back toward them, which perhaps drove them even more mad than his previous taunt.Just before they entered Baker Street, however, they saw him toss something far into the sky, but had no intention of catching it.But they were running fast, and it fell far behind, right next to Gogol's carriage.Perhaps out of the faint expectation of getting a clue, maybe out of some inexplicable impulse, he stopped the carriage and picked it up.It was a rather large parcel for himself.When he examined it, he found that the package contained thirty-three sheets of worthless paper wrapped in layers.After the last layer of paper was torn off, a small note inside was revealed, which read—— "I think the word should be 'pink'." The man who used to be called Gogol didn't say a word, but the movements of his hands and feet seemed to be galloping again. Across street after street, and through district after district, the galloping elephant becomes a moving spectacle, keeping everyone on the lookout and causing traffic to turn left and right.And behind all this crazy fanfare, there's those three wagons toiling along until they're recognized as part of the procession, or maybe a circus advertisement.They were so fast that the distance was shortening impossibly.When Syme thought he was still in Paddington, he had seen Kensington's Albert Hall.On the empty and aristocratic streets of South Kensington, the elephant's footsteps became faster and more comfortable, and it finally ran towards the huge Earl's Court Ferris wheel that stood on the horizon.The ferris wheel gets bigger and bigger until it fills the sky like a wheel of stars. This beast can run faster than a wagon.After turning a few corners they lost sight of it, and when they came to one of the gates to the Earls Court Exhibition Hall they found it blocked.In front of them was the crowd, and in the center of the crowd was a trembling elephant with its trunk up.But Sunday was gone. "Where has he been?" asked Syme, getting out of the carriage. "A gentleman has burst into the exhibition hall, sir!" said a bewildered officer.Then he added in an aggrieved voice: "A ridiculous gentleman, sir. He let me hold his horse, and gave me this." Wearily he produced a folded piece of paper on which was written: "To the Secretary of the Anarchist Central Council." The furious secretary tore open the paper and found that it read—— "When a herring swims a mile, "Make the secretary smile; "When the herring tries to fly, "Let the secretary die. "(Country proverb.)" "Gee," said the secretary, "did you let this man in? Do people usually come to your exhibits on crazy elephants? And—" "Look!" cried Syme suddenly, "look there!" "Looking at what?" the secretary asked arrogantly. "Look at that balloon tethered to the ground!" said Syme, pointing excitedly. "Why the hell should I look at a balloon tied to the ground?" asked the secretary. "What's so weird about a balloon tied to the ground?" "No wonder," said Syme, "but it's going to leave the ground!" They turned their heads in unison, and saw the balloon tethered to the string dangling and inflating above the exhibition hall.A second later, the string split in two under the balloon pod, and the balloon broke the string and floated free like soap bubbles. "Ten thousand devils!" screamed the secretary, "he's up!" Then he shook his fist toward the sky. The balloon was suddenly lifted by a gust of wind and flew right above them. They could see the chairman's big head with white hair sticking out of the pod and looking down on them kindly. "God bless my soul!" said the professor in an old-fashioned way, which he could no longer shake off his white beard and parchment face. "God bless my soul! I seem to remember something falling on the top of my hat!" With a trembling hand he lifted a folded paper from the top of his hat.He opened it absently, and found a concentric knot drawn on it, which read—— "Your beauty does not leave me indifferent.—From Little Snow Lotus." There was a brief silence, and then Syme bit his beard and spoke—— "I'm not defeated. The damn thing is bound to land somewhere. Let's go after it!"

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