Jesse Ball - Samedi the Deafness

But what, thought James then, if there was actually only one McHale? What if the whole thing is an elaborate psychological experiment? What if they have been changing the newspapers on the newsstands that I pass?

This made a great deal of sense to him. However, the implications were too frightening to bear.

A bird that sits in a cage is likewise endowed with the fortune of domesticity and the failure of civilization. That is to say, he shall be provided for against all but death and jealousy, and one will always come before the other.

But it was impossible, thought James. The first McHale had not been acting. Also, the newspapers were not rigged. They couldn't be. The threat was real and, James felt sure, would be carried out unless he, James, could stop it.

He stood up, circled his chair, and sat again. He took off his coat, removed the pistol from his pocket, and whistled a little tune.

It was a fine tune, a few notes he himself had strung together one night in a dream. He often whistled it, but was never aware of this whistling. If he had had a wife or friend, someone by now would have pointed it out to him, and the small beauty of this unconsciousness, and this invisibly pleasurable whistling, would have passed out of the world.

The gun has a real weight, thought James. It was a revolver. He found the release mechanism and checked to see if the gun was loaded. It was. Eight bullets neatly in a circle.

Well, then, he thought. If I have to leave immediately, they won't be able to stop me.

Just then another knock came at the door.

James went out into the hall. There was another note on his shelf. He picked it up and went inside.

This note read:

Please read the entire manual before stirring from your room. As you will find out, there are reasons for our rules, and consequences for the breaking of rules. While you are with us, we trust you will abide by our habits.

The Visit of Grieve

Grieve stood by the window. She was NOT as expected. The reason was this: James had never seen the girl before.

She was young and rather plain with a fine figure. She wore a short dress and her hair was pulled back in a yellow scarf.

— They're just dreadful, dreadful, she said.

and

— I overheard them talking, and you sounded so nice, and it was

so unfortunate what was being done to you.

and also

— I just thought, I will see if I can help him. And so I came here.

— Well, said James. Thank you.

It soon came out that she was a maid in the house itself.

— But, he said, I thought that Grieve was—

— No, no, she said. That's Grieve whose father is the owner. I am named after her. Before I came here, I had a different name, but we are encouraged in this house to take the names of others whom we admire, and so, after several years, I became Grieve. Of course, I'm not the only one. There are other maids named Grieve. We all adore her so.

The Visit of Grieve, Part 2

James sat down on the bed.

— So they intend to keep me here until after something has happened?

— I'm not sure, said Grieve. I just heard him say, I won't have Sim putting them onto our scent.

Grieve laughed as she said this.

— It's kind of silly, isn't it? Onto our scent!?! I'm sure that's what he said, though.

Again there was a knock at the door.

Grieve looked over her shoulder.

— Just a note, I think, said James.

— So, you're getting used to the rules, eh?

— A bit, said James.

— I have to go, said Grieve. I'm not supposed to be here when I'm off work.

She looked at the floor and then looked at him.

— Truth be told, she said, I lied to you. I saw you coming in all tied up, and I thought, how dreadful, and also, how nice you looked, and so I dodged around where McHale was with the others, and listened on purpose to see if I could hear something useful. I have been useful, haven't I?

— Very, said James.

He went to the door.

— I'm going to get the note, he said. Thank you. If you hear anything else. .

— I'll leave a note, said Grieve, but not outside your door. It isn't safe. I'll put the note in your pillowcase, where no one but you or I would look.

The note read:

Expect more of your belongings when you return from supper.

— D. Graham, H.S.

He looked at his watch. Supper, had he missed it? He went for the book.

It read:

The appropriate attire for dinner is this: wear something you will not embarrass yourself in. Certainly, the qualifications for wearing one garment are different from those for another. One man may look good in a smock, another in an evening gown, while a third cannot go about save in full evening dress. To each one, then, his fate.

Supper will be had alone or in arranged company, in one of the various chambers near the kitchen. In summer, or when weather permits, food may be eaten upon the veranda or on the lawn, or even, depending on the individual involved, upon the roof, as has been done at least once in my own experience. The hour for supper is nine. A nightcap will follow at either eleven or one, depending upon your habits.

James wandered about aimlessly for a while, his bell dampened by a flat cloth. Surely he could find the dining room.

In the vicinity of the kitchen there were many small rooms, and other larger rooms. He wandered through. Some of them were occupied.

A man was standing leaning against a window. His eyes met James's. They looked at each other carefully. The man's face clouded over. He stood up straight and was at least a foot taller than he had been before. He had only one leg, and it was made of curved ivory. No, that wasn't true. But he was very tall, and holding some kind of stick.

The man was glaring at him. Maybe he did have one leg. One or three? Did he?

James averted his eyes and hurried away, not looking where he was going. He passed through first one room, then another. He looked over his shoulder. The man was still there, following after. James ducked into a hall and crossed over an enclosed bridge. Certainly he had lost the man.

He was in another series of dining rooms. One of these would do.

James sat at a table by himself. Several others entered immediately. A girl in a hospital gown, an orderly, a well-dressed man, perhaps her husband.

They sat at the next table.

— I won't dispute it, she said quietly.

— There's nothing to dispute, said the man.

The orderly looked apprehensive.

— And what if I was in love with someone else? asked the girl. Suddenly, I mean. Suddenly in love with someone else. You there, she cried out to James.

James looked behind him. There was no one else.

He looked back.

The girl stood up. The orderly stood up too. The wealthy man

had a pained expression on his face.

— Grieve, he said, don't.

This Grieve untied the back of her hospital gown and slid it off. She winked at James.

— What do you think?

James coughed and looked away.

The orderly pulled her gown back up and forced her to a sitting position. She began to cry and hid her face in her hands.

The wealthy man stood.

— I'm going, he said.

— Same time tomorrow? asked the orderly.

— Same time, he said. God damn it. She isn't any better, is she? It's a damned trick.

The orderly began to explain very patiently how she was very much improved, in fact, and this was a setback but he needn't worry himself because all that could be done was being done.