Chapter 7 -2

The Fourth Series The Curious Case of the Mariposa Bank (3) At eleven o'clock the town detectives arrived in town at the invitation of the head of the bank. I wish you could have seen those two detectives in action when they went about Mariposa--they were good-looking, serious-looking men, and no one could read their minds.It looked as if they had instinctively figured out the whole town without making a fuss.They went to the Smith Hotel in silence, as if they had never intended to go there.They stand by the bar.Listen to what people say - you know how detectives work, and once in a while they'll allow a guy or two next to them - perhaps their accomplices - to buy them a drink from their You could tell from their looks that they still hadn't stopped picking up every possible clue.If there was even the slightest clue, whether it was at the Smith Hotel, or the Mariposa Hotel, or the Continental Hotel, they would run like lightning.

Watch them go up and down town that day--silent, stern, cool-headed--and you get a sense of the magnitude of their strange and dangerous profession.They spend their days scouting the town, but they don't have the air of a face to make you realize they're doing their job.They ate dinner together in the dining room of the Smith Hotel, where they spent a total of an hour and a half, in order not to let others sniff out their motives.Then, when the other guests were almost gone, they asked Mr. Smith about the situation behind the bar, so as not to disturb others.Mr. Smith seemed to be warming up to them right away.They were the same size as him, or not much different.Besides, the innkeeper and the detective had always had a sympathetic taste, they both had the same inscrutable reticence, and both knew the weaknesses of the public without revealing them.

Besides, Mr. Smith is of great use to detectives. "Guys," he said, "I don't want to be too explicit and ask who's not home in the middle of the night. It doesn't work in this town." When the two great masters finally returned to town by the five-thirty train, it was hard to tell whether there was a vortex of clues behind their swaggering, unpredictable looks. But if those two detectives were heroes, what was Pupkin?Imagine Pupkin, with his head bandaged, standing in front of a bank, talking about a midnight robbery with the willful humility only a hero deserves.

I don't know if you've ever been a hero, there's nothing in the world like being a hero but the sheer joy of it.A man like Pupkin, who had never thought himself worthless, suddenly became a hero, a figure to be compared with Napoleon Bonaparte, John Maynard, and Hussar Rangers—oh, It was a great feeling.Now Pupkin was a warrior, knowing it himself and thus acquiring all the modesty of a hero.In fact, I believe he was heard to say that he was only doing a little of his duty, and that he did what others would do.But when someone says, "Yes, that's what it is," Pupkin casts a silent glance, the silent gaze of a wounded hero, whose pain cannot be expressed in words.

Pupkin might have felt greater satisfaction knowing that the city papers had been reporting all afternoon that he had died in the line of duty. That afternoon, the Mariposa courtroom held a trial -- the purpose of which was to conduct an inquest into the dead robber -- although they hadn't found the body -- and watched as they lined up the witnesses and repeatedly questioned them. Cross-examination is really interesting.Mariposa's first-class criminal lawyer Nivens and others, as well as the judges headed by Judge Pepalai, were present in court. Their tact and cunning in the cross-examination of the witnesses made you feel deeply in your heart. Surprised.

They first questioned the bank manager, Henry Mullins, and put him on the witness stand for an hour and a half.The exciting scene took everyone's breath away, and there was such a silence that if a pin fell to the ground, you could hear it clearly.It was Nivens who started the cross-examination first. "What's your name?" he said. "Henry Augustus Mullins." "What are you doing?" "Exchange Bank Manager." "When were you born?" "December 30, 1869." Then Nivens stood looking at Mullins in silence.You could tell he was thinking deeply before moving on to the next question.

"Where did you go to school?" Mullins answered bluntly: "The middle school in my hometown." Nivens thought for a while, and then asked: "How many boys are there in that school?" "About sixty." "How many teachers are there?" "About three." Thereafter Nivens paused for a long time, as if he were pondering and digesting the testimony, but at last it occurred to him, and he asked: "I know you were not in the bank building last night. Where were you?" "Shooting wild ducks on the lake." As soon as Mullins said this, there was a commotion in the audience. It would be great if you could see the exciting scene at that time.The judge leaned forward in his chair and asked impatiently:

"Is it on, Harry?" "Never mind," Mullins said, "about six." "Where did you find them? What? In the Nagano rice swamp across the river? No way! Did you catch them while they were resting or flying?" All these questions were bombarded from the bench at the witnesses.In fact, it was learned from the court that the first mallards of the season had appeared in the swamps of the Oshawepi, and it was for this reason that the court hearing ended in the first quarter of the afternoon. It's over.As soon as the courtroom was gone, Mullins, George Duff, and about half the witnesses went off to shoot mallards with shotguns.

I'm afraid I have to make a quick confession: the Mariposa bank robbery never came to light.A few arrests were made—mainly homeless and suspicious-looking individuals—but there was never any evidence that these men robbed the bank.At the other end of Missinaba County, twenty miles from Mariposa, a man was arrested.Not only did he look exactly like the description of the robber, but he also had a wooden leg.In a place like Mariposa, a one-legged bum always attracted suspicion, and whenever there was a robbery or murder, they were the first to be caught. No one ever knew how much money was lost in the bank.Some people say that 10,000 is lost, while others say more than that.The bank—no doubt out of reputational concerns—claimed that the robbers had been in vain and that none of the money in the vault was lost.

But none of this mattered to Mr. Pupkin's luck.Good luck, like bad luck, never falls on a person's head.On that magical day, happy events fell on Pupkin's head one after another.In the morning, he was a hero.During the court hearing, Judge Pepalay told him publicly that his heroic act could be recorded in the chronicles of the Decansas Trail Blazers, and the judge invited him to dinner at his house.At five o'clock in the afternoon, he received a telegram from the bank's headquarters saying that his annual salary had been raised to a thousand dollars, making him not only a hero, but a man eligible to marry.At six o'clock in the afternoon, he started to go to the judge's house. He had made up his mind and summoned up his courage to take the most important step in his life.

He has made up his mind. He was going to do a big thing, which was rarely, if ever, done before.He was going to propose to Zana Pepalay.In Mariposa, few people dare to take this step.The journey of love is usually a step-by-step process, from tennis to dancing to skiing, and it develops naturally. In the end, purely because of the circumstances, the two hearts naturally reach the state of tacit unity.Proposing outright feels so pretentious and unnatural that only people in books would do that. But Pupkin felt that heroes are qualified to try things that ordinary people dare not do.He would propose to Zanna, and more than that, he was going to tell her with manly bluntness that he was rich and brave the consequences. He did what he said. That night on the veranda, in a hammock shaded by Virginia creepers, he proposed.It was such a stroke of luck that the judge happened to be in the study, which was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Mrs. Pepperley was in the house, and she was in the sewing room; and the servant was not there, and even the dog was on a leash. Oh, what a coincidence, what a delight—to be honest, never since the beginning of the world has God arranged such an ingenious environment for a mortal to propose marriage. As for what Zanna said - other than "well" - I don't know.I'm sure when Pupkin told her the truth about how rich he was, she stood up bravely and acted like a good girl like her Zanna should, and when it comes to diamonds and such At that time, she said that she would wear it for him. They were talking about these things, and other things--they had a lot to talk about--and suddenly there was a boom and bustle like you've never heard in Oneida Avenue, and a car of the highest order His limousine stopped abruptly in front of the judge’s mansion—such a limousine has never been parked in front of a judge who only earns a meager salary of 3,000 yuan a year.As soon as the car came to a stop, a cheerful man emerged from the car, wearing a long sealskin coat—not because it was expensive, but purely to protect against the chill of the autumn night.Of course you know that the visitor is Pupkin's father.While in town he had read in the evening papers that his son had died in the line of duty, and he drove over hastily.The driver said that they only drove for two hours and fifteen minutes, and there was a special train behind them, which was full of detectives and emergency personnel, but old Pupkin learned that Peter was still alive halfway, so he telegraphed the special train. The train was cancelled. For a moment, old Pupkin's eyes rested on young Pupkin.Had you not known beforehand that he was from the Maritime Province, you might have imagined tears in his eyes and the next thing he would do to hold his son tightly in his arms.But even if he didn't hug Peter then, he did hug Zanna after a while, in the fatherly way a Maritime province hugs a beautiful girl.The most astonishing thing was that old Pupkin seemed to know everything so well that there was no need to explain anything to him. As soon as Judge Pepaley saw old Pupkin, he took his hand and shook it so hard I thought it would break his hand.When you heard them call each other "Ned" and "Philip," you had the feeling that they were schoolboys again, going to the old law school together in town. Pupkin was ignorant if he thought his father would not be welcome in Mariposa.Old Pupkin sat on the judge's porch smoking his corncob pipe with relish as if he had never heard of a Havana in his life.During the three days he spent in Mariposa that fall, he was in and out of Jeff Thorpe's barbershop and Elliott's drugstore, and he hunted wild ducks in the marshes by the lake, every night. Both played a hundred matches for a penny, as if he had never lived another life in his life.He didn't go away reluctantly until the telegram urging him to go back was enough to fill a bag. Pupkin and Zanna married at the right time and moved to a cottage in the new part of town at the bottom of the hill, where you might still find them today. At any given moment, you'll find Pupkin trimming the charming grass in a small patch of grass, wearing the same brightly colored sweatshirt as ever. But if you go up to talk to him, or go into that charming cottage with him, please do keep your voice down—music though it is—for there is a sleeping Charming little baby, no one should disturb the sweet dreams of the little baby, not even a little bit. The Fourth Series A Commoner Hero (1) Also known as: The Struggle History of Hezekia Hayloft "Can you give me a job?" The foreman of plasterers looked down from the scaffolding at the man speaking below.Something about the young man's upturned face caught his interest.He took a brick and threw it at the boy. The boy's name was Hezekiah Heyloft.He was dressed in home-woven clothes and carried a felt travel bag in each hand.He came to New York, a cruel city, to find a job. Hezekia kept going.Before long, he stopped in front of a policeman. "Sir," he said, "can you tell me to-" Before he could finish speaking, the policeman punched him hard on the side of the head. "I've got to teach you," said the policeman, "to ask such goddamn stupid questions—" Hezekiah continued to move forward.After a while, he met a man in a black top hat, black vest, and white tie, and he could tell at a glance that he was a priest. "Good sir," said Hezekiah, "can you tell me—" With a coyote howl, the priest grabbed him and bit off a piece of his ear.Yes, reader friend, he did.A priest biting a child in broad daylight, imagine that!But it happens all the time in New York. This is that cruel metropolis, imagine what it's like to find a job in it!Those of you who spend all day trying to escape from work probably won't be able to understand what that means.When you think about it, being alone in New York, with no friends or acquaintances around, no one who knows you, and no one who cares what you do, that's pretty damning! For a moment, Hezekia stood there not knowing what to do.He looked around blankly.He set his sights on the top of the Metropolis Tower.There was no work to be done there.His eyes searched the skyscrapers beyond Martinson Square, but there was no work there either.He stood upside down with his head nodding and looked up at the iron-shaped building.Still no work was found for him. Hezekiah was looking for work that day, and the day that followed. A Wall Street firm advertised for a stenographer. "Can you take shorthand?" they asked. "No," said the boy in the commoner coat, "but I can try." They threw him off the elevator. Hezekia was not discouraged.He applied fourteen times that day. The Waldorf Astoria needs a chef.Hezekiah headed for the position. "Can you cook?" they asked. "No," said Hezekiah, "but, oh, sir, give me a chance, give me an egg and let me try—I'll do my best," the big Tears rolled down the boy's face. They wheeled him from the office into the corridor. Next he applied for a job as a telegraph operator.His ignorance of the telegraph was the basic reason for his rejection. Hezekiah Heyloft was hungry in the evening.He stepped into the porch of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel again.In the porch stood a tall man in uniform. "Boss," said the boy, "can you trust me to let me have a good meal on credit?" They let out dogs to bite him. Reader, this is the hardship and toil of that great city. Hezekiah Heyloft had been looking for a job for fourteen weeks.Once or twice he found temporary work, only to lose it quickly. For a few days he worked as an accountant in a trust company.He was fired because he wouldn't tell a lie.He worked as a teller in a bank for about a week.They fired him because he refused to forge checks.For three more days he was working as a conductor on the streetcars on Broadway.This time he was fired because he wouldn't steal a penny. Such, reader, is the dreadful depravity of New York business. And so the days went by, and Heyloft still couldn't find a job.The money he saved ran out.He has no other money.He ate grass in Central Park to satisfy his hunger, and drank water from the Cruelty's manger to quench his thirst. Little by little the lad changed, his face grew grim, and the great city of New York began to stamp upon him. One night Hezekiah was standing on the sidewalk. It was late, well past ten o'clock. There are only occasional pedestrians passing by on the empty street. "By God!" said Hezekiah, shaking his fist at the lanterns of the cruel city, "I have exhausted all the righteous ways to live, and now I am going to the devil! I am going to beg. Hayloft I've never been a beggar before," he smiled wryly, "but I'm going to do it." A well-dressed man walked by. Hezekia grabbed his neck. "What do you want?" The man was unexpectedly attacked and terrified. "Don't ask me for a job. To tell you the truth, I can't offer you a job." "I don't want a job," Hezekiah said grimly. "I'm a beggar." "Oh! That's good," the man said with a sigh of relief, "here, here's ten yuan, use it to buy something to drink." money!money!And with it came a new sense of power that rushed to Hezekia's brain like a narcotic. "Drink," he muttered hoarsely, "yes, drink." "Give me a bottle of soda with egg phosphate," he said, throwing the money on the counter.He poured one bottle after another of soda down his stomach until he became dizzy.The rush of the drink made him ecstatic. He walked up and down the drink store, swaying, and weighed himself three or four times on the automatic weighing machine, and pulled out chewing gum and boxes of matches from the vending machine. At last he staggered out into the street, ecstatically driven by the momentum of thirteen bottles of phosphoric acid soda and one of sarsaparilla soda. "Crime," he hissed, "crime, crime, that's what I want." He noticed that pedestrians were now respectfully making way for him.On that corner of the street stood a policeman. Hezekia picked up a pebble and hit it just right on the policeman's ear. The policeman smiled mischievously at him, then shook his finger slightly in reprimand.It was the same policeman who had beaten him fourteen weeks ago for asking for directions. The Fourth Series A Commoner Hero (2) Hezekiah walked on, his mind still full of criminal thoughts.There is a quirky shop on the street ahead, and its window displays all kinds of New Year's gifts. "Sell me a revolver," he said. "Okay, sir," said the salesman, "do you want the kind you wear at night, or the kind you use for home use? I have all the revolvers here. Would you like a round revolver?" Hezekia picked a revolver and walked out of the oddball store. "Well now," he muttered, "I'm going to steal him a house and get some money." As he crossed Fortieth Street he caught sight of one of the nicest houses, went to it and rang the bell. A man in uniform appeared in the brightly lit hall. "Where is your master?" said Hezekiah, drawing his revolver. "He's upstairs, sir, counting the money," replied the man, "but he doesn't like being disturbed." "Take me to him," Hezekiah said, "I want to kill him and take his money." "Very well, sir," said the man deferentially, "you can find him on the second floor." Hezekia turned and fired twice, the bullets piercing the uniform and hitting the waiter, and he went upstairs. In one of the upstairs rooms a man was sitting at a table under a lamp.There was a large pile of gold coins in front of him. It was an old man with a silly but benevolent face. "What are you doing?" Hezekia asked. "Counting my money," said the old man. "What do you do?" Hezekiah asked sharply. "I'm a philanthropist," said the man, "and I give money to people who deserve it. I award medals to heroes, I reward captains who jump into the sea, and risk their lives by throwing people from upstairs Firemen down there; I sent American missionaries to China, Chinese missionaries to India, and Indian missionaries to Chicago. I gave money to keep college professors from starving, even though they all deserved to die." "Shut up!" said Hezekiah, "Damn you. Stand up. Open your mouth. Close your eyes." The old man stood up. There was a loud gunshot.The philanthropist fell to the ground.Bullets went through his vest and his suspenders were shattered. Hezekiah's eyes gleamed with a criminal ecstasy, and he stuffed fistfuls of gold coins into his pockets. There was noise and commotion in the street below. "The police are coming!" grumbled Hezekiah. "I have to set the house on fire and sneak out in the confusion." He struck a safety match and used it to burn the table leg. The table is fireproof and cannot catch fire.He burned the door with a match.The doors are also fireproof.He set fire to the bookshelves.And then use it to burn that book.They are all fireproof.Everything is fireproof. Furious, he tore off his celluloid collar and set it on fire.He danced it over his head.Huge tongues of flame spewed from the windows. "Fire! Fire!" he cried joyfully. Hezekia walked to the door and threw the burning collar into the elevator shaft.A moment later the iron elevator, with its steel cables, burst into flames, then the brass fittings on the elevator doors caught fire, and in a moment the flames on the elevator's concrete floor, crackling and crackling, had become overwhelming .Huge plumes of smoke billowed from the house. "Fire! Fire!" shouted the crowd below. Readers, have you ever seen a spectacular fire in a big city?That was really thrilling.You will find that a great city, great and terrible as it is, is, at such a time, so well organized that it embodies the most perfect organization of man. Almost as soon as the fire started, decisive steps were taken to curb its spread.Look, teams of people are passing water in buckets. Water was splashed on adjoining house fronts, flew up and down the street, blasted off utility poles, and splashed onto agitated people in huge plumes.Every place around the fire was thoroughly watered.People act according to a unified will.A crane, which was soon erected in the street, rose to a height of sixteen or seventeen feet.A brave man stood on top of it, hoisting buckets of water up by pulleys.Poised with the poise and bravery of a trained firefighter, he poured buckets of water in all directions over the crowd. The fire raged for an hour.Standing at an empty window amidst the flames, Hezekiah quickly loaded his revolver and fired into the crowd. Hundreds of revolvers in the street responded one after another. The shooting went on for an hour.Several people were nearly hit by the hail of bullets, which would have been fatal if they had been hit. Meanwhile, the fire died down and a police force stormed the burned building. Hezekia threw the revolver aside and greeted them with open arms. "Hayloft," said the Sheriff, "I'm arresting you for murder, theft, arson, and treason. You started a great shootout, man, and I'm sorry we have to do our duty to arrest you." A loud cheer erupted from the crowd below when Heyloft made his appearance.True courage is always admirable from the bottom of your heart. Hayloft was escorted onto a motorcycle, which drove quickly to the police station. The fourth series of a commoner hero (3) On the way the sheriff handed him a small kettle and a cigar. They chatted about the events of the night. Hayloft realized that a new life was opening up to him.He is no longer the neglected tramp he once was.He had entered the ranks of criminals in America. At the police station, the sheriff took him to his cell. "I hope you like this room," said the police officer, a little impatiently. "It's the best room I can give you tonight. Tomorrow I can give you a room with a bathroom. It's too short of time. I believe you won't mind being wronged for one night here." He said "good night" and closed the door.After a while he came back again. "What about breakfast?" he said. "Would you like to have it in your room, or with us in the dining room? The judicial authorities are looking forward to seeing you." The next morning, before Hezekiah got up, the sheriff came to his room with a new suit--a silk hat, a frock coat, a pair of black and white gingham trousers, and a pair of belts. Boots with shiny boots. "Please don't mind accepting these, Mr. Heyloft, the judicial authorities will be happy to make you dress decently in court." After being carefully dressed and shaved, Hezekia went downstairs.He was introduced to the principal officers of the judiciary, and there was an hour of pleasant cigar-smoking chat about the events of the preceding night. Throughout the morning, several people came to visit and congratulate Hezekiah. "I want to tell you, sir," said the editor of one of the leading American newspapers, "that what you did last night will be the subject of talk all over the United States. It was a very heroic occasion for you to shoot that waiter." This move, sir, is of great advantage to the defense of the unwritten law." "Mr. Heyloft," said another caller, "I'm sorry I didn't know you before. Our friends here tell me you've been in New York for a few months. I'm sorry we didn't know you, sir. Is the name of my firm, Mr. Heyloft. We are top local lawyers and we hope to have the honor of representing you. We can do it! Thank you, sir. Now, an hour or two before court, I Want to take you to my house on my motorcycle. My wife would love to buy you a lunch." Court session in the afternoon.The court erupted in cheers when Hezekia arrived. "Mr. Heyloft," said the judge, "I am going to adjourn the case for a few days. From what I have heard, the nervous tension you have experienced must have been severe. Your friends tell me, Your current state of mind is not suitable to participate in the trial of this case, and you will not be interested in this matter until you have received sufficient rest." As Heyloft left the courtroom, there was a cheer from the audience, followed by the judge. Hezekia was really busy in the next few days, not receiving visitors, talking with the Civil Rights Commission and the like, and preparing for the defense. During this period, Hezekia's talent and ingenuity impressed the lawyers Admired endlessly. The press did everything possible to conduct interviews.Business promoters came to visit Hezekia one after another.He was set to be the president of several leading companies, and there were rumors that, after his eventual acquittal, he would roll all of America's major anti-theft companies into one. The trial took place a week later and lasted two months.Hezekiah was charged with five counts -- arson, for setting fire to the elevator's steel cage; disorderly conduct, for shooting the waiter; theft, for stealing the money; and infanticide, for killing The philanthropist; and shooting a police officer is a felony that adds to the crime. The proceedings were complex -- expert testimony was drawn from every corner of the United States.Experts conducted anatomical analysis on the philanthropist's brain.As a result, nothing was found. The jury was dismissed three times as a whole for prejudice, then twice for ignorance, and finally for total stupidity. The lawsuit dragged on for a long time. Meanwhile, interest in Hezekiah's business grew. In the end, under the proposal of Hezekiah himself, it became necessary to suspend the trial of the case. "Gentlemen," he said in his last address to the court, "I regret that I cannot continue to attend these hearings. Whenever I can spare an hour or two from business in the future, I will I will live up to expectations and attend the hearing. At the same time, please rest assured that I will follow your procedures with the best interest." He left court amid three cheers and the singing of "Auld Lang Syne." Since then the case has dragged hopelessly from stage to stage. The arson charge settled with "plaintiffs withdrawing their lawsuit."The charge of theft was dropped on the grounds that "extremely poor must be reversed".Killing a squire was declared an excusable madness. The murder charge against the philanthropist was dropped with popular approval.Negligent damage and Highloft's loss of revolvers and ammunition outweighed it.The body of the lawsuit was sent to federal court in a writ of writ and filed in the U.S. Supreme Court. It is still there. At the same time, Hezekiah has been sitting firmly on the throne of the CEO of the theft security company.As one of the representatives of the emerging generation of financiers in New York, he is sure to be elected to the US Congress.