iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第18章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


ything：　the　campus　police　are　here。　Someone　must've　seen　us　ing　out　of　the　tunnels。
　〃What's　going　on？〃　Paul　says；　quickening　his　steps。
　I　hurry　to　follow　him。
　The　proctor　is　sizing　up　something　on　our　floor。　I　can　hear　Charlie　and　Gil　arguing；　but　can't　make　out　the　words。　Just　as　I　start　to　prepare　excuses　for　what　we've　done；　Gil　sees　us　ing　and　says；　〃It's　okay。　Nothing　was　taken。〃
　〃What？〃
　He　points　toward　the　doorway。　The　room；　I　see　now；　is　in　disarray。　Couch　cushions　are　on　the　floor；　books　are　thrown　off　shelves。　In　the　bedroom　I　share　with　Paul；　dresser　drawers　hang　open。
　〃Oh　God　。　。　。〃　Paul　whispers；　pushing　between　Charlie　and　me。
　〃Someone　broke　in；〃　Gil　explains。
　〃Someone　walked　in；〃　Charlie　corrects。　〃The　door　was　unlocked。〃
　I　turn　to　Gil；　the　last　one　out。　For　the　past　month　Paul　has　asked　us　to　keep　the　room　tight　while　he　finished　his　thesis。　Gil　is　the　only　one　who　forgets。
　〃Look；〃　he　says　defensively；　pointing　at　the　window　across　the　room。　〃They　came　in　through　there。　Not　through　the　door。〃
　A　puddle　of　water　has　formed　beneath　a　window　by　the　north　face　of　the　mon　room。　Its　sash　is　thrown　wide；　and　snow　is　gathering　on　the　sill；　swimming　on　the　back　of　the　wind。　There　are　three　huge　slashes　through　the　screen。
　I　step　forward　into　my　bedroom　with　Paul。　His　eyes　are　running　along　the　edge　of　his　desk　drawers；　rising　toward　the　library　books　mounted　on　a　wall　shelf　Charlie　built　him。　The　books　are　gone。　His　head　shifts　back　and　forth；　searching。　His　breathing　is　loud。　For　an　instant　we're　back　in　the　tunnels；　nothing　is　familiar　but　the　voices。
　It　doesn't　matter；　Charlie。　That's　not　how　they　got　in。
　It　doesn't　matter　to　you；　because　they　didn't　take　anything　of　yours。
　The　proctor　is　still　pacing　through　the　mon　room。
　〃Someone　must've　known　。　。　。〃　Paul　mumbles　to　himself。
　〃Look　down　here；〃　I　say；　pointing　at　the　lower　mattress　on　the　bunk。
　Paul　turns。　The　books　are　safe。　Hands　shaking；　he　begins　to　check　the　titles。
　I　pad　through　my　own　belongings；　finding　almost　everything　untouched。　The　dust　has　hardly　been　disturbed。　Someone　rifled　through　my　papers；　but　only　a　framed　reproduction　of　the　Hypnerotomachia's　title　page；　a　gift　from　my　father；　has　been　taken　off　the　wall　and　opened。　One　corner　is　bent；　but　otherwise　it's　undamaged。　I　hold　it　in　my　hands。　Looking　around；　I　spot　a　single　book　of　mine　out　of　place：　the　galley　proof　of　The　Belladonna　Letter；　before　my　father　decided　The　Belladonna　Document　had　a　nicer　ring　to　it。
　Gil　steps　into　the　foyer　between　the　bedrooms　and　calls　to　us。　〃They　didn't　touch　anything　of　Charlie's　or　mine。　What　about　you　guys？〃
　There's　a　spot　of　guilt　in　his　voice；　a　hopefulness　that　despite　the　mess；　nothing　is　gone。
　When　I　look　in　his　direction；　I　notice　what　he　means。　The　other　bedroom　is　pristine。
　〃My　stuff's　fine；〃　I　tell　him。
　〃They　didn't　find　anything；〃　Paul　says　to　me。
　Before　I　can　ask　what　he　means；　a　voice　interrupts　from　the　foyer。
　〃Could　I　ask　you　two　a　few　questions？〃
　The　proctor；　a　woman　with　leathery　skin　and　curled　hair；　takes　a　slow　look　at　us　as　we　appear；　snow…soaked；　from　the　corners　of　the　room。　The　sight　of　Katie's　sweatpants　on　Paul；　and　of　Katie's　synchronized　swimming　shirt　on　me；　catches　her　attention。　The　woman；　identified　as　Lieutenant　Williams　by　the　tag　on　her　breast　pocket；　pulls　a　steno　pad　from　her　coat。
　〃You　two　are　。　。　。　？〃
　〃Tom　Sullivan；〃　I　say。　〃He's　Paul　Harris。〃
　〃Was　anything　of　yours　taken？〃
　Paul's　eyes　are　still　searching　his　room；　ignoring　the　proctor。
　〃We　don't　know；〃　I　say。
　She　glances　up。　〃Have　you　looked　around？〃
　〃We　haven't　noticed　anything　missing　yet。〃
　〃Who　was　the　last　person　to　leave　the　room　tonight？〃
　〃Why？〃
　Williams　clears　her　throat。　〃Because　we　know　who　left　the　door　unlocked；　but　not　who　left　the　window　open。〃
　She　lingers　over　the　words　door　and　window；　reminding　us　of　how　we　brought　this　on　ourselves。
　Paul　notices　the　window　for　the　first　time。　His　color　fades。　〃It　must've　been　me。　It　was　so　hot　in　the　bedroom；　and　Tom　didn't　want　the　window　open。　I　came　out　here　to　work　and　I　must've　forgotten　to　shut　it。〃
　〃Look；〃　Gil　says　to　the　proctor；　seeing　she's　not　trying　to　help；　〃can　we　finish　this　up？　I　don't　think　there's　anything　else　to　see。〃
　Without　waiting　for　an　answer；　he　forces　the　window　shut　and　leads　Paul　to　the　couch；　sitting　beside　him。
　The　proctor　makes　a　final　scribble　in　her　pad。　〃Window　open；　door　unlocked。　Nothing　taken。　Anything　else？〃
　We're　all　silent。
　Williams　shakes　her　head。　〃Burglaries　are　hard　to　resolve；〃　she　says；　as　if　she's　wrestling　with　our　high　expectations。　〃We'll　report　it　to　the　borough　police。　Next　time；　lock　up　before　you　leave。　You　might　save　yourself　some　trouble。　We'll　be　in　touch　if　we　have　any　more　information。〃
　She　trudges　toward　the　exit；　boots　squeaking　at　each　step。　The　door　swings　shut　on　its　own。
　I　walk　over　to　the　window　for　another　look。　The　melted　snow　on　the　floor　is　perfectly　clear。
　〃They're　not　going　to　do　a　thing；〃　Charlie　says；　shaking　his　head。
　〃It's　okay；〃　Gil　says。　〃Nothing　was　stolen。〃
　Paul　is　silent；　but　his　eyes　are　still　scanning　the　room。
　I　raise　the　sash；　letting　the　wind　rush　into　the　room　again。　Gil　turns　to　me；　annoyed；　but　I'm　staring　at　the　cuts　in　the　screen。　They　follow　the　border　of　the　frame　on　three　sides；　leaving　the　material　to　flap　in　the　wind　like　a　dog　door。　I　look　down　at　the　floor　again。　The　only　mud　is　from　my　shoes。
　〃Tom；〃　Gil　calls　back　to　me；　〃shut　the　damned　window。〃　Now　Paul　turns　to　look　as　well。
　The　flap　is　pushed　out；　as　if　someone　left　through　the　window。　But　something's　wrong。　The　proctor　never　bothered　to　notice　it。
　〃e　look　at　this；〃　I　say；　running　my　fingers　over　the　fibers　of　the　screen　at　the　edge　of　each　cut。　Like　the　flap；　all　of　the　incisions　point　outward。　If　someone　had　cut　the　screen　to　get　in；　the　sliced　edges　would　point　toward　us。
　Charlie　is　already　glancing　around　the　room。
　〃There's　no　mud　either；〃　he　says；　pointing　to　the　puddle　on　the　floor。
　He　and　Gil　exchange　a　look；　which　Gil　seems　to　take　as　an　accusation。　If　the　screen　was　cut　from　inside；　then　we're　back　to　the　unlocked　door。
　〃That　doesn't　make　sense；〃　Gil　says。　〃If　they　knew　the　door　was　open；　they　wouldn't　leave　through　the　window。〃
　〃It　doesn't　make　sense　anyway；〃　I　tell　him。　〃Once　you're　inside；　you　can　always　leave　through　the　door。〃
　〃We　should　tell　the　proctors　about　this；〃　Charlie　says；　gearing　up　again。　〃I　can't　believe　she　didn't　even　look　for　it。〃
　Paul　says　nothing；　but　runs　a　hand　across　the　diary。
　I　turn　to　him。　〃You　still　going　to　Taft's　lecture？〃
　〃I　guess。　It　doesn't　start　for　almost　an　hour。〃
　Charlie　is　placing　books　back　on　the　top　shelves；　where　only　he　can　reach。　〃I'll　stop　by　Stanhope　on　the　way；〃　he　says。　〃To　tell　the　proctors　what　they　missed。〃
　〃It　was　probably　a　prank；〃　Gil　says　to　no　one　in　particular。　〃Nude　Olympians　having　some　fun。〃
　After　a　few　more　minutes　of　picking　up；　we　all　seem　to　decide　that　enough　is　enough。　Gil　begins　changing　into　a　pair　of　wool　trousers；　throwing　Katie's　dress　shirt　into　a　bag　of　dry　cleaning。　〃We　could　get　a　bite　to　eat　at　Ivy　on　the　way。〃
　Paul　nods；　leafing　through　his　copy　of　Braudel's　Mediterranean　World　in　the　Age　of　Philip　II；　as　if　pages　might've　been　stolen。　〃I　need　to　check　on　my　stuff　at　the　club。〃
　〃You　guys　might　want　to　change；〃　Gil　adds；　looking　us　over。
　Paul　is　too　preoccupied　to　hear　him；　but　I　know　what　Gil　means；　so　I　return　to　the　bedroom。　Ivy　isn't　the　sort　of　place　I'd　be　caught　dead　dressed　like　this。　Only　Paul；　a　shadow　in　his　own　club；　lives　by　different　rules。
　What　dawns　on　me　as　I　check　my　drawers　is　that　nearly　all　of　my　clothes　are　dirty。　Rummaging　in　the　far　back　of　my　closet；　I　find　a　rolled…up　pair　of　khakis　and　a　shirt　that's　been　folded　for　so　long　that　the　folds　have　bee　creases；　and　the　creases　pleats。　I　search　for　my　winter　jacket；　then　realize　it's　still　hanging　from　Charlie's　duffel　bag　in　the　steam　tunnels。　Settling　for　the　coat　my　mother　bought　me　for　Christmas；　I　head　into　the　mon　room；　where　Paul　is　sitting　by　the　window；　eyes　on　the　bookshelves；　puzzling　something　out。
　〃Are　you　b