iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第13章

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　〃Sir；〃　es　a　voice　from　behind　us。
　We　turn　to　find　a　curator　stepping　in　our　direction。
　〃Mr。　Curry；　the　trustees'　meeting　is　beginning　soon。　Could　we　ask　you　to　move　to　the　upstairs　deck？〃
　〃We'll　talk　about　this　more　later；〃　Curry　says；　reorienting　himself。　〃I　don't　know　how　long　this　meeting　will　be。〃
　He　pats　Paul　on　the　arm；　shakes　my　hand；　and　then　walks　toward　the　stairs。　When　he　ascends；　we　find　ourselves　alone　with　the　guards。
　〃I　shouldn't　have　let　him　see　it；〃　Paul　says；　almost　to　himself；　as　we　turn　toward　the　door。
　He　pauses　to　take　in　the　series　of　images　one　more　time；　forming　a　memory　he　can　return　to　when　the　museum　is　closed。　Then　we　find　our　way　back　outside。
　〃Why　would　Bill　lie　about　where　he　got　the　diary？〃　I　ask　once　we're　in　the　snow　again。
　〃I　don't　think　he　would；〃　Paul　says。
　〃Then　what　was　Curry　talking　about？〃
　〃If　he　knew　more；　he　would've　told　us。〃
　〃Maybe　he　didn't　want　to　tell　you　while　I　was　there。〃
　Paul　ignores　me。　There's　a　pretense　he　likes　to　keep　up；　that　we　are　equals　in　Curry's　eyes。
　〃What　did　he　mean　when　he　said　he'd　help　you　get　excavation　permits？〃　I　ask。
　Paul　looks　over　his　shoulder　nervously　at　a　student　who　has　fallen　in　behind　us。　〃Not　here；　Tom。〃
　I　know　better　than　to　push　him。　After　a　long　silence　I　say；　〃Can　you　tell　me　why　all　the　paintings　had　to　do　with　Joseph？〃
　Paul's　expression　lightens。　〃Genesis　thirty…seven。〃　He　pauses　to　call　it　up。　〃Now　Jacob　loved　Joseph　more　than　all　his　children；　because　he　was　the　son　of　his　old　age。　And　he　made　him　a　coat　of　many　colors。〃
　It　takes　me　a　second　to　understand。　The　gift　of　colors。　The　love　of　an　aging　father　for　his　favorite　son。
　〃He's　proud　of　you；〃　I　say。
　Paul　nods。　〃But　I'm　not　done。　The　work　isn't　finished。〃
　〃It's　not　about　that；〃　I　tell　him。
　Paul　smiles　thinly。　〃Of　course　it　is。〃
　　
　We　make　our　way　back　to　the　dorm；　and　I　notice　an　unpleasant　quality　to　the　sky：　it's　dark；　but　not　perfectly　black。　The　whole　roof　of　it　is　shot　with　snow　clouds　from　horizon　to　horizon；　and　they　are　a　heavy；　luminous　gray。　There　isn't　a　star　to　be　seen。
　At　the　rear　door　to　Dod；　I　realize　we　have　no　way　in。　Paul　flags　down　a　senior　from　upstairs；　who　gives　us　an　odd　look　before　lending　us　his　ID　card。　A　small　pad　registers　its　proximity　with　a　beep；　then　unlocks　the　door　with　a　sound　like　a　shotgun　being　shucked。　In　the　basement；　two　junior　women　are　folding　clothes　on　an　open　table；　wearing　T…shirts　and　tiny　boxer　shorts　in　the　swelter　of　the　laundry　room。　It　never　fails：　walking　through　the　laundry　room　in　winter　is　like　entering　a　desert　mirage；　air　shivering　with　heat；　bodies　fantastic。　When　it's　snowing　outside；　the　sight　of　bare　shoulders　and　legs　is　better　than　a　shot　of　whiskey　to　get　the　blood　pumping　again。　We're　nowhere　near　Holder；　but　it　feels　like　we've　stumbled　onto　the　waiting　room　for　the　Nude　Olympics。
　I　climb　to　the　first　floor　and　head　toward　the　north　flank　of　the　building；　where　our　room　is　the　final　quad。　Paul　trails　behind　me；　silent。　The　closer　we　get；　the　more　I　find　myself　thinking　of　the　two　letters　on　the　coffee　table　again。　Even　Bill's　discovery　isn't　enough　to　distract　me。　For　weeks　I've　fallen　asleep　to　the　thought　of　what　a　person　could　do　with　forty…three　thousand　dollars　a　year。　Fitzgerald　wrote　a　short　story　once　about　a　diamond　the　size　of　the　Ritz；　and　in　the　moments　before　I　doze　off；　when　the　proportions　of　things　are　in　flux；　I　can　imagine　buying　a　ring　with　that　diamond　in　it；　for　a　woman　just　on　the　other　side　of　the　dream。　Some　nights　I　think　of　buying　enchanted　items；　the　way　children　do　in　games　they　play；　like　a　car　that　would　never　crash；　or　a　leg　that　would　always　heal。　Charlie　keeps　me　honest　when　I　get　carried　away。　He　says　I　ought　to　buy　a　collection　of　very　expensive　platform　shoes；　or　put　a　down　payment　on　a　house　with　low　ceilings。
　〃What　are　they　doing？〃　Paul　says；　pointing　down　the　hall。
　Standing　side　by　side　at　the　end　of　the　corridor　are　Charlie　and　Gil。　They're　looking　into　the　open　doorway　of　our　room；　where　someone　is　pacing　inside。　A　second　glance　tells　me　everything：　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　d