Chapter 11 chapter Ten

I was so excited.I'm sure I've finally found the right clue.One thing is obvious, and that is that I must not move out of this room.I have to live with the smell of ferulic resin.I revisited my findings. Tomorrow is the twenty-second, and something will happen at one o'clock in the morning or one o'clock in the afternoon.I figured it was one o'clock in the morning.It's seven o'clock now, and there are six hours to reveal. I don't know how I spent that night.I went back to my room early.I told the waitress that I had a cold and a headache and didn't care about the smell.She still seemed a little confused, but I was firm.

The long night seems to never end.I got into bed, wrapped in a thick flannel dressing-gown for emergency, and slippers still on my feet.Dressed like this, I feel like no matter what happens, I can always jump up and deal with it. What am I expecting to happen?I have no idea.Vague visions of mostly improbable things floated in my mind.But one thing I'm pretty sure of is that at one o'clock something will happen. I heard other people going to bed at different times.Fragments of conversations and goodnight jokes came in through the open transom one after another.Then, there was silence.Most of the lights are out.There was still a light on the outside walkway, so there was still light in my room.I heard eight o'clock.The next few hours were the longest and slowest ever passed, and I checked my watch from time to time in case I missed the time.

If my reasoning is wrong, if nothing happens at one o'clock, I've really fooled myself and spent all my money on illusory discoveries.My heart was beating painfully. The bell rang again.a little!nothing happened.Wait - what's that?I heard brisk running—running down the aisle. Then my door flew open like a cannonball, and a man almost fell in. "Help me," he said quickly, "they're after me." This is not the time to argue or explain, I hear footsteps outside the door.I only have about forty seconds to act.I jumped up and faced the strange man standing in the room.

There's no hiding place for a six-foot man in the cabin.I pulled out my cabin suitcase with one hand, and he dumped sideways behind the suitcase under the bunk.At the same time, I pulled down the washbasin with my other hand.With a deft movement, my hair has curled into a knot on the top of my head.From the outside, it is not too skillful, but from another point of view, it is very artistic.A lady, with her hair curled atop her head, was getting soap from her trunk, apparently to wash her neck, and could hardly be suspected of harboring a fugitive. There was a knock on the door, and before I could say "come in," the door was pushed open.

I don't know what I was expecting to see.I think I had vague notions that Mr. Pagett was holding the revolver, or that my priest friend was holding some other deadly weapon.But I didn't expect it: what I saw was a night maid, with a respectful and inquiring face. "Sorry, miss, I thought it was you." "No," I said, "I haven't." "Sorry to bother you." "It's ok," I said, "I can't sleep, I thought washing my face might help." "I'm sorry, madam," said the maid again, "but there's a drunk gentleman nearby, and we're afraid he'll break into the lady's room and frighten her."

"It's scary!" I said, looking around warily. "Won't you come in?" "Oh, I don't think so, miss. If he comes in, you'll ring. Good night." "Good night." I opened the door and peered into the hallway.Except for the figure of the maid who was gradually leaving, I didn't see anyone. Drunk!This is her explanation.All my drama genius wasted.I pulled out the suitcase a little more and said, "Please come out immediately." The voice was harsh. No reply.I poked my head in and saw my visitor lay motionless, as if asleep.I pushed his shoulder, but he still didn't move.

"Drunk," I thought agonizedly, "what should I do?" Then I saw something that made me gasp, a little scarlet spot on the floor. I tried my best to drag the man out.The dead whiteness of his face showed that he had passed out.I could easily find out why he passed out.He had been stabbed in the left chest armpit - a deep wound.I took off his coat and prepared to bandage the wound. He woke up under the stimulation of cold water, and sat up. "Please be quiet," I said. He is the kind of young man who recovers quickly. He got up with support and stood there a little shaky.

"Thank you, I don't need anyone to do anything for me." His attitude was dismissive, almost aggressive.No thanks, not even an expression of common courtesy! "It hurts so badly, you have to let me bandage it." "No need." He said it in my face as if I was begging him for help.My anger, which had never been calm, rose. "I can't agree with your attitude," I said coldly. "At least you can get rid of my presence." He walked towards the door, a little shaky.I suddenly pushed him onto the sofa. "Don't be a fool," I said informally, "you don't want to have the whole boat dripping with blood, do you?"

He seemed to understand this, because he sat there quietly while I bandaged his wound as best I could. "Okay," I patted my bandaging result and said, "That's all for now. Are you feeling better now? Do you want to tell me what's going on?" "I'm sorry I couldn't satisfy your natural curiosity." "Why?" I said angrily. He smiled mischievously. "If you want to spread the word, tell the woman, otherwise, it's better to be a three-time adulterer." "You don't think I can keep a secret?" "I don't think—I know."

He stood up. "Anyway," I said bitterly, "I can at least make a little publicity about what happened tonight." "I also know you'll be promoting it," he said nonchalantly. "You are so bold!" I exclaimed angrily. We faced each other, looking at each other like enemies with great hatred.For the first time I noticed his face, the protruding black head, the thin chin, the scar on the brown cheek, the strange bright gray eyes, looking into my eyes with an indescribable irony.There is a sense of danger about this person. "You haven't thanked me for your life!" I said sweetly.

I hit him in the gut, and I saw him flinch visibly.I felt intuitively that what he hated most was being mentioned that he owed me my life-saving grace.I don't care, I'm going to hurt him, I've never wanted to hurt anyone so much. "I wish you hadn't saved me!" he growled. "I'd better die before I owe you anything." "I'm so glad you acknowledged the debt. You can't escape it. I saved your life and I'm waiting for you to say 'thank you.'" If eyes could kill.I think he killed me long ago.He rudely pushed me away and walked over.At the door, he turned his head and said: "I won't thank you—now or at any time. But I acknowledge this debt, and one day I will pay it off." He's gone, leaving me with my fists clenched and my heart beating like a torrent.