Chapter 43 Through the Wall

Once upon a time, there was a strange man named Duthier who lived on the fourth floor of apartment B at No. 75 rue d'Orchamps in the Montmartre district. He had the extraordinary ability to pass through walls without any effort.The gentleman wore a small black goatee and a pair of pince-nez, and worked as a third-class clerk in the registration office.In winter, he takes the bus to work, and in spring, when the flowers bloom, he wears a melon cap and walks back and forth. Dutillere was forty-three when he discovered his ability to penetrate walls.One night, he was in the hallway of a small unit where bachelors lived. Unfortunately, the power went out for a while, so he had to walk around in the dark. When he called again, he was in the corridor on the fourth floor.The door was locked on the inside, and he was baffled by the accident, and although he knew the absurdity of such a thing, he decided to go back to the room as it was, that is to say, through the wall.It seemed that he was not only useless for this strange ability, but also felt a little displeased.The next day was a Saturday. Taking advantage of the afternoon off work, he went to see a doctor who lived in the same district and talked about his symptoms.The doctor believed that he was telling the truth. After diagnosis, he was found to be suffering from spiral sclerosis in the strangulated wall of the thyroid gland, so he prescribed a prescription for him: he should do a lot of exercise, and take long-acting Bilet powder, rice powder and half Human half-horse hormone mixture, two tablets per year.

After taking one tablet, Dutillere threw the medicine into the drawer and forgot about it, not to mention heavy exercise.As a small employee, he followed the steps step by step and had become a habit. He was not used to doing any strenuous activities.In his spare time, he is limited to reading newspapers and collecting stamps, and nothing is labor-intensive.A year later, his ability to walk through walls remains the same.However, except by accidental inadvertence, he never used this skill.He is a person who is not easy to take risks, and he is not good to have wild dreams. Even when he comes home from get off work, he will turn the lock to open the door in a regular manner, and walk in through the door, and he doesn't want to go back to the house in a different way.If there were no unexpected incidents that suddenly disrupted his life, he might have lived his entire life in peace and never thought of testing his natural abilities.

His immediate boss, Mr. Mu Long, deputy director of the office, was transferred and left, and Mr. Laiguye took over.The man spoke curtly and had a beard like a brush.On his first day in office, the new deputy director was displeased with Duthier's pince-nez and black goatee, so he put on airs and regarded him as an old, untidy thing in the way.The most terrible thing is that the new director is ingenious and has made major changes in official affairs, deliberately disturbing the safety of his subordinates.Over the past 20 years, Duthieres drafted letters, and always used this format: "According to your letter on a certain day, month, and referring to the correspondence between the two parties, I am honored to inform you..." Mr. Laguier insisted Change to a more American-style format: "Your letter received on a certain day and month, and here is your reply..." Duthier is not used to this letter format, and he always returns to the old routine involuntarily. .The deputy director became more and more annoyed by his stubborn attitude.Duthierre was oppressed at the registry office.In the morning, he went to work with anxiety, and at night he lay in bed, often having to wait a quarter of an hour before falling asleep.

Duthier's obstinate attitude of sticking to the rules hindered the smooth progress of the reform. Laguier couldn't bear it, so he sent him to a small black room next to the office.The small black room faced the corridor, and the door was short and narrow, with a few large characters written on it: Storage room for sundries.Dutillere had never been insulted like this before, so he had to accept it.However, when he was reading the newspaper at home, he read a report about a murder case in the social news column, and suddenly realized that he secretly hoped that it was Mr. Laguier who had the accident.

One day, the deputy director suddenly broke into the small black room, waved a letter in his hand, and shouted loudly: "This letter is badly written. Write me a new one! Call this kind of letter what you want, it's a disgrace to the office! Write me a new one!" Dutillere was about to defend himself, but Mr. Leguier did not allow him to open his mouth. With a roar like thunder, he called him a conservative old cockroach, crumpled up the letter in his hand, threw it on his face, turned and left .Although Dutillere's status is humble, his self-esteem is very strong.He was alone in the hut and felt his face burn.Suddenly, he made up his mind, left his seat, and got into the middle of the partition between the cabin and the deputy director's office.However, he was very careful when he got in, only his head protruded from the other side of the wall.Mr. Laijuye was reviewing an official document drafted by a staff member at his desk, shaking the pen holder to move the position of a comma. At this moment, he suddenly heard someone coughing in the office. When he looked up, he was scared out of his wits , I saw Duthier's head hanging on the wall, like the head of a hunted animal.Moreover, this head is actually alive, and a pair of eyes are glaring at him through the lens.That’s not counting, this head actually spoke:

"Sir, you rascal, bastard, rascal!" Mr. Laguier was stunned, his eyes were fixed by the ghost, he struggled desperately, then stood up from the chair, rushed to the corridor, and rushed into the small dark room.Dutillere sat there, as usual, with a pen in his hand, working silently.The deputy director looked at him for a long time, stammered a few words, and then went back to the office.However, before his butt could sit still, that head appeared on the wall again. "Sir, you rascal, bastard, rascal!" In just one day, the terrifying head appeared on the wall twenty-three times, and it did so every day after that.Dutillere was already familiar with this set of tricks, but he felt that just scolding the deputy director was not enough, so he pretended to be a ghost, crying and howling, and laughing like a devil, which was creepy:

"Jaru-Jaru! A vicious jackal! (laughing wildly) so frightened that he sifts the chaff! (laughing wildly)" The poor deputy director became more and more frightened as he listened. He was ashen-faced, out of breath, with his hair standing on end and sweating profusely.On the first day, he lost a pound of weight.In the next week, his body was visibly thinner. Not to mention, he had two more problems: drinking soup with a fork when eating, and doing military salutes when he saw the police.Just in his second week, the family called an ambulance and took him to a nursing home. Duthier can be regarded as freed from the domineering Laguier, and can reuse his precious format: "According to the letter of the month and day, and referring to the correspondence between the two parties, I am honored to inform you..." However, he Still feeling unfinished, there was a new uncontrollable desire haunting him, and he wanted to use his ability to penetrate walls again.Of course, it is easy to go through walls, and you can go through them in your own home. Besides, walls are not rare, they are everywhere.But a man of great skill can never be satisfied with such tricks.What's more, going through walls is not an end in itself, it can only be said to be the beginning of an adventure, and there will be a series of actions in the next step, and they must be done vigorously. All in all, they must be rewarded.Dutillere is well aware of this.He felt the need to show his talents, and he yearned more and more to make a big splash and realize his wish as soon as possible; at the same time, he still had an old idea, as if something was calling him behind the wall.It's a pity he lacks purpose.He wanted to find something in the newspaper to inspire and inspire.He pays particular attention to the political column and the sports column, and finds both types of activities to be respectable.However, he finally realized that in these respects, people who can walk through walls are useless, and social news is the most enlightening, so he turned his attention to this column.

Duthier's first crime was the theft of a large credit bank on the right bank of the Seine.He went through twelve or thirteen walls, got into all kinds of safes, stuffed his pockets with banknotes, and left his pseudonym in red chalk: Jialu Jialu, with a scratch under his signature , the style of writing looks very chic.The next day, every newspaper published his signature.A week later, Garou Garou became famous.The mysterious thief won the hearts of the people, and the police were confused by him.Every night he did something amazing and caused a sensation, whether it was robbing a bank, or robbing a jewelry store, or calling a rich man bad luck.From Paris to the provinces, there is no woman who is more or less fanciful, longing to dedicate her body and mind to the terrible Garou-Garou.Within a week, he committed crimes in succession, stole the famous diamonds from Boudikala, swept the city bank, and excited the public to the extreme.The Minister of the Interior was forced to resign, followed by the Registrar.However, although Duthiere became a wealthy man in Paris, he went to work on time every day; some people argued that he should be awarded a first-class education medal.Every morning, as soon as his colleagues went to work, they commented on the strange case he made at night in the bureau, and he was very happy listening to it.Just listen to your words and I said: "This Garou Garou is really a remarkable person, a superman, and a genius." Hearing such praise, Dutillere blushed with embarrassment and looked at his glasses. A friendly and grateful look flickered behind him.One day, this atmosphere of popular support removed all his scruples, and he felt that he could no longer hide.His colleagues were huddling around a newspaper, vying to read the report on the Bank of France theft. He looked a little shy, looked at his colleagues, and then announced in a modest tone: "You know, Garou Garou, it's me." There was an uproar in the audience, and a heart-to-heart remark by Dutillere made everyone laugh out loud.From then on, everyone teased him as soon as they met and called him Jialu Jialu.When he got off work in the evening, his colleagues made fun of him and laughed at him endlessly. He felt that life was not so happy.

A few days later, Jialu Jialu committed a crime in a jewelry store on Heping Street, and the night patrol captured it on the spot.At that time, he finished his case, left his name on the cash register, sang a drinking song, and waved a gold cup, breaking many glasses.It was easy for him to slip into the wall and avoid the patrols.However, the course of events showed that he had thrown himself into the trap.He probably had only one purpose in doing this, which was to silence his colleagues, because they didn't believe what he said, which made him very embarrassed.The next day, when the newspapers published Duthier's photo on the front page, they were astonished, regretting one by one, hating themselves for being blind, not recognizing that their colleague was a genius.So everyone imitated him and grew a small goatee one after another to show their respect for him.Some of them have extremely strong feelings of annoyance and admiration, even when they see the wallets and watches of their friends and acquaintances, they are eager to try and reach out to touch them.

Needless to say, one would feel that he was too reckless and not the work of a man of extraordinary ability, just to surprise a few colleagues.In fact, in making such a determination, superficial wishes are of little importance.Duthier gave up his freedom in order to save face, but in fact, he was just sliding down the slope of fate.For a person who has the ability to penetrate walls, if he does not taste the taste of prison walls in his life, then his life will be nothing to praise.Dutillere, in prison, felt lucky instead.The walls of the prison are thick and solid, and he really enjoys wearing them.On the second day after he was arrested and imprisoned, the guards who inspected the prison found that the prisoner Duthier had nailed a nail on the wall and hung the warden's gold watch on it. They were all dumbfounded.How he got his hands on the watch, he could not and would not reveal.The watch was returned to its original owner.But the next day, on the bedside of Garou Garou, I found the watch again, as well as the first volume of "Three Musketeers" from the warden's study.This can make the prison up and down very messy.The guards complained bitterly, saying that someone had kicked their buttocks, but they couldn't tell where the feet came from.It seems that it is not that the partition wall has ears, but that the partition wall has feet.Jialu Jialu was in prison for about a week. One morning, the warden walked into the office and found this letter on the table:

That night, although Dutillere was closely watched, he escaped at half past eleven.When the news broke the next morning, everyone was in high spirits.Then he committed another case, which brought his popularity to the top.It seems that he is not hiding, but he doesn't care, and he still swaggers, wandering around the Avenue Montmartre.Three days after the escape, around noon, Dutillere was arrested again.At that time, he was drinking lemon liquor with some friends in the Fantasy Cafe on Kolan Ancient Street. He was escorted back to prison and put in a dark cell with three locks.That night, Jialu Jialu slipped away and went to the guest room of the warden's house to spend the night.Next morning, just before nine o'clock, he rang for the maid and said he wanted breakfast.Several guards heard the police came and pulled him away from the bed, but he didn't make any resistance.The warden became furious, and added a post in front of Duthier's prison door, and punished him to eat dry bread.At noon, the prisoner sneaked to a restaurant near the prison to eat, drank coffee, and hung up the phone to the warden: "Hi! Mr. Warden, I'm very sorry. When I came out just now, I forgot to bring your wallet and was detained in the restaurant. Could you please send someone to pay for the meal?" The warden ran to him himself, and was furious and cursed at him.Feeling humiliated, Duthier escaped from prison that night and never returned.This time, he was a little more careful, shaved off his black goatee, threw away his pince-nez, put on tortoiseshell glasses, put on a peaked cap, put on a checkered top, and golf pants. , the appearance has completely changed.He lived in a small apartment on Juneau Street, where he had moved some of his furniture and valuables long before his first arrest.He was growing tired of fame, and a little tired of the fun of passing through walls.At this time, in his eyes, the thickest and tallest wall is nothing but an insignificant screen, and he yearns to walk through the center of the huge pyramid.While thinking about his trip to Egypt, he lived an extremely leisurely life, collecting stamps all day long, watching movies, strolling the streets, and wandering around the Montmartre district for a few hours.His chin is clean-shaven and he wears a pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses. He is so different from the past that even his closest friends will not recognize him if they pass by him.Only the painter Jean Paul has sharp eyes. He can see every detail, and any old household in the district who has a slight change in appearance can't escape his eyes.He finally recognized Duthier's true identity.One morning, at the corner of the Rue d'Abrevois, he met Dutillere, and could not help saying to him in vulgar slang: "Hey, stop pretending. Look at you, you have a greasy hair and a pink face. What do you want to do with plain clothes?" To put it in popular language, the general idea is: It can be seen that you are disguised and dressed up, just to deceive the police. "Oh! You recognize me!" Dutillere whispered. In a moment of confusion, he decided that he must leave for Egypt as soon as possible.However, that same afternoon, while walking in the Rue Lepic, twice, within a quarter of an hour's interval, he met a fair-haired girl who struck him with love at first sight.Stamp collection, a trip to Egypt, and the pyramids are all thrown into the sky at once.Moreover, the blond girl also seemed to be interested in sending him a few glances.What could be more attractive to young women today than a man in golf pants and tortoiseshell glasses?The look has movie star vibes and conjures up cocktail parties, California nights out.It is a pity that Duthiere learned from Jean Paul that the beauty was married to a vinegar pot.The husband was very rough and suspicious, but he himself was sneaky, whoring, and whoring. Every day from ten o'clock in the evening to four o'clock in the morning, he often went out alone to fool around and left his wife at home.However, before he left, he always locked his wife in the house, with two locks on the door, and a large lock on each shutter, and it was strictly guarded.During the day, he still watched his wife closely, and even followed her when she went to Montmartre Street. "He doesn't relax for a moment, he is strictly guarded. He looks like a complete rogue, and no one will think of him stealing oil from his den." However, this warning from Jean Paul only made Duthier's desire more intense.The next day, on Dorochai Street, he met the young woman again, and followed her into a dairy shop desperately.While she was waiting to buy things, Dutillere confided his love to her, saying that he knew exactly what had happened to her: her husband was vicious, the door was locked, the shutters were closed, etc., but it didn't matter. Be sure to go to her bedroom.The blonde girl's face was flushed, the milk jug in her hand kept shaking, she was emotionally impulsive, her eye circles were a little wet, she sighed, and said in a low voice, "Oh! Sir, this is impossible." That day, Dutillere was in high spirits, and in the evening, at nearly ten o'clock, he went to wait on the Rue Norvins, his eyes fixed on a thick fence.There was a small house in the enclosure, and all he could see on the roof was the weather banner and the chimney.A moment later, a door in the wall opened, and a man came out, locked the door carefully, and walked toward Juno Street.Dutillere kept staring at him, waited for him to go far away, and waited until he disappeared from the corner, then counted ten more, and then rushed over, passed the wall and wall with vigorous steps, and plunged into the wall smoothly. The bedroom of the imprisoned beauty.The beauty was intoxicated and greeted him with open arms; until late at night, the two had endless words of tenderness. Things were a little rough the next day, and Dutillere had a terrible headache.This is nothing to worry about, he won't miss the appointment because of a little headache.However, when he was digging through the drawer, he accidentally found a few pills, so he took one in the morning and another in the afternoon.In the evening, the headache can be endured, and besides, the spirit is refreshed on happy occasions, and the pain is forgotten.The young woman was still lingering on the scene of last night, impatiently looking forward to his tryst.This time, the two lovers stayed together all night, inseparable, until three o'clock in the morning, before breaking up.When Dutillere crossed the wall of the house, he felt different from usual, with a feeling of friction on his waist and shoulders.However, he doesn't think it matters.However, when he was about to pass through the courtyard wall, he obviously felt resistance, as if he was moving in a flowing substance, and this substance became thicker and thicker.The harder he struggled, the thicker the surrounding matter became.Finally, his body finally got to the center of the wall, but he found that he could no longer move.He was startled, and suddenly remembered the two pills he took during the day. He thought it was aspirin, but he didn't know it was the long-acting bileite mixture prescribed by the doctor last year.The medicinal power plus excessive physical exertion immediately took effect. Dutillere seemed to be cast in the heart of the wall.To this day, his body is still one with the stone wall.When the noise on the streets of Paris subsides, and in the dead of night, nocturnal travelers can hear a low voice that seems to come from the grave when they come to the Rue Norvins. Neighing.In fact, it is not the case, it is Garou Garou Duthier pouring out his deep grievances, lamenting that his prominent career has been ruined, regretting the love that is like morning dew.In the long winter night, the painter Jean Paul took his guitar, bravely walked to the quiet and desolate, whistling Norvin Avenue, and played a song to comfort the poor man imprisoned in the stone wall.A chorus sound floated from the artist's frozen fingers, like beams of moonlight, pouring into the heart of the stone gap wall.