Chapter 23 Twelfth Scene

Ren strolled in his English garden, hands loosely crossed behind him, inhaling the fragrance of flowers in the air.Beside him, brown-toothed and brown-faced, was old Quesy, the understanding silent Quesy who accompanied him on the walk.This loyal servant and friend behaved in perfect harmony with the mood of his master, Ryan. At this time, Ryan's mood was obviously a little depressed, and Kuisi also quietly accompanied him like an old hound. "If what I said sounds like a complaint, old guy," Ryan said softly, without lowering his eyes to look at the thin and short Quasi, "please forgive me, I have become more and more irritable these days, although , all our great mentors have repeatedly warned us, don't rush time, don't rush time, for example," Ryan changed his voice into a speaker, "'Time is the eternal guardian of justice, and it judges all sinners in the world , then trust it and let it do it.' Nothing could have been truer than this fair Miss Rosaleen said.' Those who cover up mistakes and hide crimes, time will reveal the depths buried crimes, and humiliated them with taunts.' This twist is not elegant, but still full of insight, and then, old man, 'the great wheel of time will eventually bring its reward'. This sentence is again So right, so you see..."

The two walked in front of an old tree with a strange shape. This tree was formed by two thick trunks not far apart. The long years have been tangled into gray knots, and the branches and leaves on the top are unfolded. Green hills.There was a bench between the two trunks, and Ren sat down and motioned for Quesy to sit next to him. "The Tree of Kuisi," Ren murmured, "Look, it's so old and weird, and we finally found a memorial similar to yours..." He half-closed his eyes, and Kuisi also sat down worriedly down. "You look worried," Quissie whispered, then stopped short, as if she had said the wrong thing.

"Do you think so?" Ren cast a sideways glance at Kuisi mischievously, "It seems that you know me better than I do... But Kuisi, just waiting now can't soothe my tension In my mind, we stand at the end of the road, but there is no turning point. I keep asking myself, where is the road leading to the dark and bright. We have seen the formation of a human sphinx , John DeWitt changed from a cowardly man bitten by an unknown fear to a strong man supported by an unknown force. And who knows what kind of powerful potion it is How can it make him suddenly have such an unshakable soul like steel? I went to see him yesterday, and he is like a sage who is practicing asceticism—alienated, stable, calm, quietly waiting for the god of death to come, just like that Oriental esoterics in general."

"Perhaps," Quacy said sharply, "he'll be acquitted." "Possibly," said the old actor, "but I see him as resigned to his fate as a neo-Stoic in ancient Rome, deeply rooted in his little iron cage, a queer character indeed . . . as for the rest— —nothing else, I'm completely screwed, and now I'm just backing away and being an irrelevant announcer on this play... The Bureau of Missing Persons is very helpful, but the reports they provide are useless. The astonishingly efficient Inspector Sam--Quisy, a down-to-earth gentleman--informed me that he, too, had tracked down all the passengers, addresses, identities, and Occupation and background, etc., but still hit the wall...Totally futile and completely in vain! What we need is all hidden, nowhere to be found, and nowhere to be found...The omnipresent Mike Collins also ran to the cold law Visited DeWitt on the spot, crawling towards that Paneutiers cave with incomparable enthusiasm and the crawling posture of a redeemer - and couldn't call back his soul, Kuisi... Bruno, the shrewd and difficult prosecutor , told me, through Lyman Brooke, that Mrs. DeWitt had slipped back into her lair--a shrewd and dangerous woman, at the moment, neither accepting nor rejecting her husband's offer of divorce. , Quesy... As for my female colleague of the unjust theater, Joey Brown, she floats to the prosecutor's office like a ghost, providing some information on dealing with DeWitt, completely oblivious to the help the prosecutor most needs It's her coquettish looks—an asset that's evident on the witness stand, no doubt, especially those beautiful calves and peep-inducing breasts that speak naturally..."

"Mr. Wren, if it's April now," the silent Kuisi suddenly interjected, "I would think you were rehearsing Hamlet's confession." "And poor Charles Wood," Wren said to himself, with a sigh, "has left an immortal legacy to the Home Rule of New Jersey which has never been claimed by anyone—945 dollars and 63 dollars." And the five-dollar bill in the passbook, which was not deposited in time, may rot in the filing cabinet... Oh, Kuisi, we live in an era full of strange changes!"