Chapter 13 Chapter Twelve

Stanley, who was shaking off his work clothes outside the office door, took a look at Robert's face when he pulled his car into the garage in Sim Lane and said, "Bad luck again?" "It's not about betting on horses," Robert said, "it's about humanity." "Once you start getting disappointed in humanity, there's no time for anything else. Are you trying to reform someone?" "No, I'm looking for help removing paint from a wall." "Oh, get people to work!" Stanley's tone suggests that finding people to work in today's society is too optimistic.

"I was trying to get someone to clean the signs on the fence in Franchise, but suddenly everyone was too busy to have time." Stanley stopped moving. "Slogan," he said. "What kind of slogan?" Even Bill poked his head out of the cramped office door to listen after hearing the conversation. Rob told them. "The policeman who stood guard there told me it was painted with the best quality white paint." Bill whistled.Stanley was silent; his smock was still half off, half hanging at his waist and half stacked at his feet. "Who did you try?" Bill asked.

Rob told them. "No one has time tonight, and tomorrow morning, and it seems like everyone has more important work to do." "It's incredible," Bill said. "Don't tell me those people are afraid of retaliation against them!" "No, to be honest I don't think so. I think what they didn't tell me was that they thought the two ladies of Franchise deserved what happened to them." Everyone was silent for a while. "When I was in the Signal Corps," Stanley said, nonchalantly pulling up his coveralls and slipping them back on. "I have the opportunity to go to Italy.

It took about a year.I was lucky enough to escape malaria, the Italian Army, partisans, and countless minor disturbances.But I got a phobia, and I couldn't accept the slogans sprayed on the wall. "What do we have to clean it up?" asked Bill. "What's the point of having the most well-appointed and modern garage in all of Milford if we can't find something to get rid of it?" said Stanley, zipping up the overalls. "Would you like to help?" Robert asked, surprised but excited. Bill smiled slowly. "An ex-Signaler, an ex-Royal Engineer, plus two brushes. What else do you need?" he said.

"God bless you," said Robert. "Bless you both. I have only one ambition tonight, and that is to get the paint off the walls by tomorrow morning. I'll go and help." "Well, you don't, especially in that suit," Stanley said. "And we don't have much overalls—" "I can go back and change, and then meet you." "Listen," Stanley said patiently, "we don't need extra help to do such a simple job. Even if we need it, we will take Harry along." Harry is a boy who works in a car factory. "You obviously haven't eaten your dinner, and we've used it; I hear Miss Bonnet doesn't like her well-prepared dinner wasted. As long as you don't mind that wall getting dirty, you know we're just repairing The black hand of the car factory is not a decoration worker."

So he had to walk up Mall Street to his home at No. 10, the shops along the way were closed for rest, and he felt like a stranger wandering around on a Sunday night looking at his house.Returning to Milford Town after the long Labolo search, he had the illusion of being away for years.The warm stillness of his home at Number Ten - quite different from the dead stillness of Franchise - made him feel comfortable and comforted.The air is slightly filled with baked apple pie wafting from the kitchen. From the half-opened door you can see the light of the living room fireplace bouncing on the wall.Warmth and security embraced him like a soft wave.

But for the peace that was waiting for him, because of today's encounter, an inexplicable sense of guilt suddenly transpired in his heart, so he picked up the phone and called Marianne. "Well, it's you - hello!" she said.He finally convinced the telecom bureau that his call was purely business, and then he heard her voice on the phone; her warm tone made him froze for a moment—his mind was still on the white paint on the fence—was Can't react for a while. "I'm glad. I was thinking about how we'd get in touch with you; I knew you'd have a way. I guess you just have to tell the operator you're Robert Blair and they'll take your call and come in."

That sounds like something she could say, he thought to himself.Say sincerely, "I knew you'd do it," and then follow up with a touch of humor. "I think you saw the decoration on our outer wall?" Rob said yes, and went on to say that no one would see it again, because the white paint would be gone before sunrise tomorrow. "tomorrow! " "The owner of my garage decided to remove it tonight." "But—that would take seven maids and seven mops—" "I don't know; but once Stanley and Bill make up their minds, it'll be removed. They've been schooled to never tolerate vandalism."

"What school is that?" "British Military Academy. I have other good news for you: I've established that Mr. A does exist. She had tea with him one day. Picked him up in the lobby of the Midland Hotel." "Pick up? But she's just a kid, and—well, I almost forgot, she could tell everyone a story like that. After that, anything is possible. How did you find out?" He told her. "You've had a rough day in the Franchise, haven't you?" he asked after he had outlined his little adventure in the café. "Yeah, it made me feel bad. Other than the crowd and that wall. Worse was the mail.

The postman asked the police to bring the letter in.I would like the police to deliver that kind of insulting text is not common. " "Yes, I expected things to turn out this way." "Well, we don't have many letters anyway, so we've decided to burn them without opening them, except for those whose handwriting we can recognize. So if you want to write a letter, don't type it." "But do you recognize my handwriting?" "Yes, you wrote us a short note, remember? The one you sent us that afternoon from Chinneville, beautiful writing." "Did you see Neville today?"

"No, but one of the letters received today is from him. It's not really a letter." "Official documents?" "No, it's a poem." "Oh. Do you understand?" "I don't understand, but the rhyme sounds very nice." "The bicycle bell sounds very nice." He thought she smiled. “It’s nice to have a poem delivered to your face,” she said. "And cleaning the walls was a surprise. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your effort - you, and, um, what's the name - Bill and Stanley. And if it's not too presumptuous , I wonder if it would be convenient for you to bring us some food tomorrow?" "Food!" he said, chastising himself for not having thought of it: presumably it was because he was so well looked after by Aunt Lin, and all the food was right in front of him, and you just put it in your mouth, and you lost everything. lose the ability to imagine. "Yes, of course. I forgot that you may not be convenient to go shopping." "It's not just that. The greengrocer who regularly drove in on Mondays to sell greens didn't show up today. Maybe," she corrected hastily, "maybe he came and we didn't notice. Anyway, we desperately need something. You have Pen?" After she made the list, she asked, "We didn't get a chance to read today's Ike-Emma; did it mention anything about us?" "Only some letters appeared in the Letters section, that's all." "It's all about disapproval, I guess." "I'm sorry that's the case. Tomorrow when I bring the greens, bring the newspaper so you can read it yourself." "I'm really ashamed to trouble you like this." "Don't say that, it's actually turned into a personal challenge for me now," he said. "Personal?" she sounded confused. "Proving that the Betty Kane story is not credible is my goal at this moment." "Oh, um, I see." Her voice was half relieved, half—could it be?—disappointed. "Then, see you tomorrow." However, God arranged that she would see him before then. That night, he went to bed very early, but he couldn't close his eyes. He repeatedly planned in his mind how to talk to his friend Kevin McDermo on the phone; figured out how to solve the problem of finding Mr. A; I don't know whether Marianne has fallen asleep in that old and quiet house, or is still paying attention to the sound outside the house. His bedroom was on the street, and at about midnight he heard a car approach, then stop, and almost immediately afterward he heard Bill's very low voice—a guttural whisper. "Mr. Blair! Hey, Mr. Blair!" His head and the second call appeared on the other side of the window at the same time. "Thank goodness," Bill went on whispering. "I'm really afraid it's Miss Bonnet's room." "She slept in the back. What's the matter, what happened?" "The Franchise is in trouble. I have to go to the police myself and report it because the line is cut. I thought you'd like to know, so I—" "What kind of trouble?" "Bad boy. I'll pick you up after reporting the crime, about ten minutes later." "Is Stanley with them?" Rob asked as Bill hurried back to his car. "Yes, Stanley's head is bandaged with gauze. I'll be right back." After a pause, his car disappeared into the dark and silent commercial street. Before Robert could get dressed, he heard a slight sound of a car driving past the window, and the police were dispatched.The siren was not turned on, and the car dealership used to make only the sound of a summer night breeze blowing through the treetops, but the real situation is that the police have begun to enforce the law.He tiptoed open the front door, afraid to wake Aunt Lynn, as Bill parked his car on the sidewalk. "Now, tell me," said Robert, as they were now in the moving car. "Well, we did that little job with the headlights on—not professional, I'll tell you, but it was better—and then we turned off the lights and started packing. We took it easy because it wasn't We're in a rush, and it's a good night. We're all lighting up and smoking, thinking we can go home, when we hear glass breaking in the house. Nobody's there while we're working Been in and out of the front door, so we figured it must be coming from the side of the house or the backyard. Stanley got his flashlight out of the car—mine was on the seat, we didn't use it—and turned to me Said: 'You go that way, I go this way, and they will be clamped between us.'' "Did you go around?" "It's not that hard. There's hedges on both sides of the fence. If I was wearing good clothes for a desk, I'd be hesitant, but in overalls, you'd try to squeeze through the bushes." Might be easier for Stanley because he's skinny. I'm having a bit of a hard time. But we went through it, one on each side, rounded the corner, and met in the middle of the back wall; but didn't see a single ghost ...that's when we heard the sound of glass shattering again and learned that whoever they were was obviously looking for trouble. Stanley said, 'Help me up and I'll put a hand out for you when I get to the wall.' Seriously. Yeah, one hand wouldn't help me much, luckily the ground on the other side was almost as high as the wall - I think a dirt slope had been cut in half to make the wall - so we climbed over the wall without much trouble. Stanley asked me if I could use a tool other than a flashlight as a weapon, and I said yes, and I had a wrench with me. Stanley said, 'Put down that ghost wrench, use your scary fist, it Bigger." ' "What nickname does he use himself?" "Football attacking skills," he said. Stanley had been a pretty good player. Then again, we went into the wall in the dark and headed for the sound of shattering glass. It looked like they were just trespassing. We We chased them around the corner by the front door, and lit our flashlights. I think I saw seven people. More than we expected anyway. We immediately put out the flashlights, and didn't want them to see that there were only two people on our side, and grabbed the last near us. Stanley said, 'Sir, you grab that. ’ For a moment I thought he was just saying my old title out of habit, and suddenly I knew he was trying to make the crowd think we were the police.However, some of them didn't believe it and insisted on calling. I must have made a mistake, and there couldn't be only seven of them.Then, for what seemed like a split second, there was silence--we made quite a commotion--I think we let them back off; and somewhere on the ground I heard Stanley yelling: 'At least hold on One, Bill, don't let them all slip away! ' I ran after me with my flashlight in hand.The last of them was being pulled over the wall, but I held my leg.But he was kicking like a donkey, and I was holding something in my hand, and finally let him slip out of my hand like a fish.I could only stare at the fence that was higher than the front door, shaking my head and sighing.I go back to Stanley. He is still sitting on the ground.Someone hit him on the head with something, he said a bottle, and he looked really messed up.At this point Miss Sharp appeared at the top of the front steps of the house asking if anyone was hurt? She could see us through the light of the flashlight.We helped Stanley in, and the old lady was there, and the house was lit.I went to the phone but Miss Sharp said: 'It's no use, it's cut off.As soon as they arrived, we wanted to call the police. 'I said I'd go; said I'd come with you.But Miss Sharp said no, because you've done too much today and asked me not to bother you any more. But I think you'll want to be there. "Yes, Bill, I should be there. " When they arrived, the iron door outside the house was wide open, the police car was parked beside the door, the lights in the room facing the street were almost all on, and the curtains in the windows fluttered slowly with the evening wind blowing through the broken glass .In the living room, Marion was taking care of Stanley, who had cut marks on his eyebrows. One police officer was taking notes, and another police officer was busy releasing evidence. Among the evidence are some half-bricks, several bottles, and paper with writing on it. "Well, Bill, I told you not to bother," said Marion when she looked up at Robert. Robert noticed how efficiently and quickly she was bandaging Stanley's wound—the woman was rather clumsy at cooking—and he greeted the officer, bending over the evidence.Most of the stuff is throwing weapons, and the paper just repeats: "Get out!" Warning!" and four other messages. "I think we've got everything covered," the officer said. "Now we get to the courtyard to see if there are clues like footprints." He asked Bill and Stanley to lift their feet and identify their soles with expert eyes, and then went to the courtyard with his assistant; The old lady came in with a steaming thermos and cups. "Ah, Mr. Blair," she said. "Do you still think we're excited about this?" She was dressed as usual—unlike Marianne, she looked as if she had just gotten out of bed hastily, with her dressing gown on—and the old lady seemed indifferent to what was going on, he thought to himself. Wondered what occasion the noble Mrs. Sharp would be flustered. Bill got some wood from the kitchen and rekindled the fire in the fireplace, and Mrs. Sharp poured out a hot drink—it was coffee, but Robert declined, he'd had too much coffee today, and he'd lost all interest—and Stanley's face started Restore blood. When the police came back from the courtyard to the living room, the atmosphere in the living room had become more relaxed and warm. Of course, the curtains were still fluttering in the wind, and the window was only the window frame.Robert noticed that Stanley and Bill did not find the Sharp mother and daughter strange and difficult to get along with. On the contrary, they seemed at ease as if they were at home.Perhaps it was because of the natural attitude of Sharp's mother and daughter, who faced the stranger's trespass and harassment as if they were dealing with daily housework.Bill came in and out as if he had lived in this house for several years; Stanley directly held out the empty cup and asked for a second cup of coffee, without politely waiting for the owner to ask.Robert couldn't help thinking that they would be welcome if Aunt Lin was there, but Aunt Lin would definitely remind them that they were wearing dirty overalls and had to sit on the edge of the chair. Perhaps it was their relaxed, easy-going attitude that attracted Neville. "Ma'am, are you planning to continue living here?" asked the police officer who had just entered the house. "Yes," said old Mrs. Sharp, and poured them coffee. "Not good," said Robert. "You shouldn't stay here, it's really bad. I'll help you find a quiet hotel in Rabolo—" "I've never heard anything more nonsense. Of course we're going to stay here. What inconvenience can some broken windows do?" "Maybe next time it won't just be broken windows," said the officer. We really can't do it. " "I'm so sorry we've caused you trouble, officer. Believe me, if we were able, we would never allow a window to be broken by a brick. Common sense aside, let's leave this place vacant if we do go away for a while. What will be waiting for us when we come back? Since you don't have the manpower to protect people, I guess you don't have the manpower to protect an empty house?" The officer looked embarrassed, as most people who deal with old Mrs. Sharp would react. "Well, I see, ma'am," he said, with some reluctance. "Then, I think that settles our proposal to leave the Franchise. Candy, Sergeant?" When the police left, Robert resumed the topic of temporary relocation, and Bill took a broom and dustpan from the kitchen to sweep up the broken glass from room to room. He reiterated that it was advisable to stay at the Rabolo Hotel, But in fact, even he himself can't convince himself. If today was his place in Sharp's mother and daughter, he would not move away; what's more, the old lady Sharp's view that the situation will be more uncontrollable after the house is vacant is very reasonable. Insightful. "What you need is a tenant," said Stanley, who is now classified as an invalid and is not allowed to help remove broken glass. "A lodger with a pistol. Do you think it’s okay for me to come here to sleep at night? There is no need to provide meals, but to be a night watchman who spends the night here.The night watchman sleeps at night anyway. "The faces of the Sharpe mother and daughter showed gratitude for this public declaration of loyalty, especially in a dispute which had almost turned into a local war; but they did not detract from the noble friendship with the socially hypocritical gratitude common to gentlemen and ladies. "Do you have a wife?" Marianne asked. "No." Stanley said seriously. "Your wife--if you had one--would probably be sensible enough for you to sleep here," old Mrs. Sharp pointed out, "but I doubt your career will hold up in the same way, Mr. Peters." "My career?" "I can imagine your customers knowing that you've come to the Franchise to be the night watchman, and they'll go elsewhere without saying a word." "They won't," said Stanley confidently. "There's no other place. The woods are drunk five days a week, and Pickens doesn't even know how to put a bicycle chain on. Besides, I don't let my customers tell me I'm off work." time what should I do." When Bill returned to the living room, he also supported Stanley's proposal.Bill himself was a married man, and it seemed unreasonable to spend the night elsewhere than at home.But Stanley could not have been better off as a lodger in Franchise. Robert was greatly relieved. "Well," said Marianne, "if you're going to be our guest, maybe it's time to start now. Your attacked head is swollen like a kohlrabi.I'm going to make the bed.Do you like rooms facing south?" "Yes," said Stanley solemnly. "Just stay away from the kitchen and the radio." "I will try my best." Then arranged for Bill to slip a note to Stanley's boarding house on his return saying he was still there for lunch. "She won't worry about me," Stanley said, referring to his landlord. "I've had several sleepovers before." As he spoke, he met Marianne's gaze, and hurriedly said: "Help the customer to take the boat to the car - the delivery time can be cut in half at night." They fastened the curtains in all the rooms on the ground floor with tacks so that the contents would not get wet when it rained through the windows at night, and Robert promised to have a glassman come early in the morning—privately deciding to go to Rab Lo's company to hire someone, instead of going to Milford Town to accept the embarrassing flat refusal. "And I'll make a key for the iron gate, so that I may have one," said he, as they were about to leave, and Marianne accompanied them to the iron gate, to bar it with a wooden bar when they were gone, "If someone comes in and out, you don't have to come out to open and lock the door." She held out her hand, first to Bill. "I will never forget what the three of you did for us. When I think of tonight, it won't be of those ignorant country folks,"—she tilted her head slightly toward the windowless building house - "but the three of you." "Those are locals, I think you know," Bill said as they drove home on this quiet spring evening. "Yes," agreed Robert. "I know. They didn't come by car. And the words 'foreign pig' smell conservative redneck, like 'Fascist! ' is urban radical." Bill made some comments on so-called progress. "I really shouldn't have been persuaded like that yesterday evening. The officer on duty was so sure that 'everyone goes home after dark', I was persuaded. I should really go with my sixth sense. “Bill was clearly not listening. I now realize how insecure a house without windows is,” he said. "Take a house with no back yard and all the doors that don't close securely, and you can still go into the front hall with no problem, as long as the windows are in place. But no windows, even in a house with no other damage , you still feel very unsafe." This discovery did not comfort Robert.