414
ALEXANDER
GRIN
ill
person who has lost all hope of being cured, engaging
in
end·
less official correspondence. Then, full of concern for my brain·
child, I sent a denunciation which revealed the location of
hi3
permanent residence: a small hut I had built deep in the forest.
Cavalry and infantry forces were sent to follow up this clue.
Early in the morning as the pursuers were approaching
Asper's hut, shots rang out from the green undergrowth. Robbers
were firing from behind the shrubbery. These were blank car·
tridges I had wired and hidden with fantastic skill in various
parts of the forest; when the mounted policemen passed along
the only trail in this area they did not suspect that their horses
I
rode over a board concealed underground which pressed a \
button. I had taken enormous trouble with this. The police raced (
in the direction of the shots, but found nobody; the robbers had ,
disappeared. In the hut, coals were still smouldering on the
hearth. The remains of food on pewter plates, knives and forks,
jugs of wine all told of a hasty getaway. In chests under the bed,
on the walls, and in one small secret hiding-place several wigs,
false beards, pistols and stores of firearms were discovered.
On
the floor lay a tortoise-shell fan, a belt and a woman's silk hand–
kerchief which were thought to be the belongings of Asper's
mistress.
The game has dragged on for six years. Many songs have
been composed by young people in Asper's honor. But I am now
convinced that Asper must be captured; recently the police have
infested the region to such an extent that robbery has ceased
entirely. Nothing has been heard of Asper for a year now, and
many people dispute his very existence.
I must save him- that is, I must kill him. I shall do this
tomorrow."
Gakker rolled back one of the sleeves of his shirt to show
me a tattoo. The design was composed of the letter A, a skull
and a bat.
"I copied this from the arm of the real Asper," said Gakker,
"the police will recognize the design."
