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- Стр. 95/143
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Well
,
it
was
quite
possible
that
he
had
red
hair
,
and
now
that
the
driver
mentioned
the
matter
,
I
was
suddenly
convinced
that
he
was
right
.
I
felt
grateful
to
the
poor
driver
,
and
hastened
to
inform
him
that
he
had
hit
the
man
off
to
a
T
--
he
really
was
just
as
he
described
him
,
--
and
I
remarked
,
in
addition
,
that
it
would
be
a
phenomenon
to
see
such
a
man
without
red
hair
.
"
It
must
be
him
I
drove
a
couple
of
times
,
"
said
the
driver
;
"
he
had
a
knobbed
stick
.
"
This
brought
the
man
vividly
before
me
,
and
I
said
,
"
Ha
,
ha
!
I
suppose
no
one
has
ever
yet
seen
the
man
without
a
knobbed
stick
in
his
hand
,
of
that
you
can
be
certain
,
quite
certain
.
"
Yes
,
it
was
clear
that
it
was
the
same
man
he
had
driven
.
He
recognized
him
--
and
he
drove
so
that
the
horse
's
shoes
struck
sparks
as
they
touched
the
stones
.
All
through
this
phase
of
excitement
I
had
not
for
one
second
lost
my
presence
of
mind
.
We
pass
a
policeman
,
and
I
notice
his
number
is
69
.
This
number
struck
me
with
such
vivid
clearness
that
it
penetrated
like
a
splint
into
my
brain
--
69
--
accurately
69
.
I
would
n't
forget
it
.
I
leant
back
in
the
vehicle
,
a
prey
to
the
wildest
fancies
;
crouched
under
the
hood
so
that
no
one
could
see
me
.
I
moved
my
lips
and
commenced
to
I
talk
idiotically
to
myself
.
Madness
rages
through
my
brain
,
and
I
let
it
rage
.
I
am
fully
conscious
that
I
am
succumbing
to
influences
over
which
I
have
no
control
.
I
begin
to
laugh
,
silently
,
passionately
,
without
a
trace
of
cause
,
still
merry
and
intoxicated
from
the
couple
of
glasses
of
ale
I
have
drunk
.
Little
by
little
my
excitement
abates
,
my
calm
returns
more
and
more
to
me
.
I
feel
the
cold
in
my
sore
finger
,
and
I
stick
it
down
inside
my
collar
to
warm
it
a
little
.
At
length
we
reach
Tomtegaden
.
The
driver
pulls
up
.
I
alight
,
without
any
haste
,
absently
,
listlessly
,
with
my
head
heavy
.
I
go
through
a
gateway
and
come
into
a
yard
across
which
I
pass
.
I
come
to
a
door
which
I
open
and
pass
through
;
I
find
myself
in
a
lobby
,
a
sort
of
anteroom
,
with
two
windows
.
There
are
two
boxes
in
it
,
one
on
top
of
the
other
,
in
one
corner
,
and
against
the
wall
an
old
,
painted
sofa-bed
over
which
a
rug
is
spread
.
To
the
right
,
in
the
next
room
,
I
hear
voices
and
the
cry
of
a
child
,
and
above
me
,
on
the
second
floor
,
the
sound
of
an
iron
plate
being
hammered
.
All
this
I
notice
the
moment
as
I
enter
.
I
step
quietly
across
the
room
to
the
opposite
door
without
any
haste
,
without
any
thought
of
flight
;
open
it
,
too
,
and
come
out
in
Vognmansgaden
.
I
look
up
at
the
house
through
which
I
have
passed
.
"
Refreshment
and
lodgings
for
travellers
.
"
It
is
not
my
intention
to
escape
,
to
steal
away
from
the
driver
who
is
waiting
for
me
.
