It was in the darkness and silence that he spent the long day. Pen Fun Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 infoNothing happened during the night. Everything is so empty, there is no impression of the outside world at all. He gradually lost the concept of time. The next morning, when a key was turning in the lock of the door, and the frightened rat creaked past him, he suddenly stood up in fright, his heart pounding and his ears ringing, as if he had been locked up in a place insulated from light and sound for months, not hours.

The cell door opened, letting in a faint light—a dazzling light to him. The warden walked in, holding a loaf of bread and a glass of water in his hand. Arthur took a step forward, convinced that the man had come to let him out. Before he could speak, the guard shoved the bread and teacup into his hands, turned away, and left without saying a word, locking the cell door again.

Arthur stamped his feet. For the first time in his life, he felt angry. But as time went on, he gradually lost his grasp of time and place. The darkness seems to be endless, with no beginning and no end. For him, life seemed to have stopped. On the evening of the third day, the cell door was opened, and the warden stood on the threshold with a soldier. He looked up, confused and dazed. He covered his eyes with his hands to avoid the bright light he was not used to. He was dazed, not knowing how many hours he had been in this grave, or how many weeks.

"Please go this way. The caretaker said. Arthur stood up and walked forward mechanically. He staggered and staggered, like a drunkard. He hated the guards trying to help him up the steep and narrow steps, but as he walked up the last step, he suddenly felt dizzy, so he swayed, and if it wasn't for the guards grabbing his shoulders, he would have fallen backwards.

"Well, he'll be fine now," said someone cheerfully, "and most of them will pass out when they come out like this." ”

Arthur struggled, desperately trying to catch his breath. Then another handful of water was poured over his face. The darkness seemed to disappear from his eyes with the sound of watering, and he suddenly regained consciousness. He pushed the guard's arm away, walked to the other end of the hallway, and ascended the stairs, almost securely. They paused for a moment at one doorway, and the back door opened. Before he could figure out where they were taking him, he was standing in the brightly lit interrogation room, looking in disbelief at the table, at the papers, at the officers in their old seats.

"Ah, it's Mr. Burton!" said the Colonel. "I hope we can talk about it now. Uh, do you like that dark cell? not as luxurious as the living room in your brother's house, huh?"

Arthur looked up at the colonel's grinning face. He suddenly felt an unquenchable desire to rush forward, grab the bearded playboy by the throat, and bite it off with his teeth. It is likely that something appeared on his face, for the Colonel immediately changed his tone and said, "Sit down, Mr. Burton, and drink some water." You're a little excited. ”

Arthur pushed away the glass of water that was handed to him. He rested his arms on the table and one hand on his forehead, trying to calm down. The Colonel sat there, his sophisticated eyes keen on his trembling hands and lips, and his wet hair and misty eyes. He knew that all this indicated physical weakness and nervous disorders.

"Now, Mr. Burton," said him after a few minutes, "we will continue our last subject, for some unpleasant things have arisen between us, so I may wish to explain to you at first that, as far as I am concerned, I have no intention of being lenient with you. If you behave appropriately and sensibly, I assure you that we will not take any unnecessary rough measures against you. ”

"What do you want me to do?"

Arthur said angrily, his voice very different from the tone he usually spoke.

"I just want you to tell us frankly how much you know about this organization and its members. Straightforward and generous. First of all, how long have you known Bora?"

"I've never seen him in my life. I don't know anything about him. ”

"Really? Okay, we'll come back to that later. Do you know a young man named Carlo Bini?"

"I've never heard of this man. ”

"Hell yes. What about Francisco Neri?"

"I've never heard of that name. ”

"But here's a letter from you with his name on it. And voila!"

Arthur glanced absent-mindedly and set it aside.

"Do you recognize the letter?"

"Unrecognizable. ”

"Do you deny that you wrote the letter?"

"I didn't deny anything. I don't remember. ”

"Maybe you remember the letter?"

Another letter was handed to him, which he recognized as a letter he had written to a classmate in the fall.

"I don't remember. ”

"Don't the recipients remember?"

"I don't even remember anyone. ”

"Your memory is so bad. ”

This is a flaw that I often struggle with. ”

"Yes, but I heard from a university professor that you were not flawed at all, but in fact you were very smart. ”

"You may judge whether you are smart or not by the criteria of an undercover agent, and university professors use different words. ”

From Arthur's voice, it was clear that his anger was getting louder. He was exhausted from hunger, foul air, and a desire to sleep. Every bone in his body seemed to ache, and the Colonel's voice tormented his already angry nerves, making him grit his teeth and make the sound of a stone pen grinding.

"Mr. Burton," said the Colonel, leaning back in his chair, "you have forgotten your situation again. Once again, I warn you, such a conversation will not do you good. You've had enough of the black prison and don't want to crouch in it now. I've made it clear to you, and if you don't distinguish between good and bad again, I'll take drastic measures. Don't forget that I have the evidence -- the hard evidence -- that some of these young people brought forbidden books and newspapers into the port, and that you kept in touch with them. Now are you willing to take the initiative to explain how much you know about this?"

Arthur lowered his head. A blind, ignorant, and crazy anger began to sprout in his heart, which was difficult to contain. For him, the loss of self-control was more terrible than any threat. For the first time, he began to realize that beneath the cultivation of any gentleman and the piety of a Christian there was a subtle power hidden, and he was afraid of himself.