فصل چهارم

CHAPTER FOUR

In which the young man finds

himself a prisoner

SOON THE YOUNG MAN WAS ALONE IN HIS ROOM, a room so luxurious he couldn’t help examining it. He went up to the only window, which was very high off the ground, and looked out over the park. He could see where he had first spotted the millionaire looking after his roses with such tender, loving care.

Night had fallen, and a full moon cast a luminescent glow over everything. He was filled with anticipation. He was finally going to discover the secrets to making the fortune that had eluded him for so many years.

He slowly opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. The sheet of paper was again completely blank! He turned it over. There wasn’t the tiniest squiggle on either side. He’s been fool enough to let the old man swindle him! He’d handed over a check for a mind-boggling sum in exchange for something that didn’t exist!

The millionaire had seemed so honest. He’d even started feeling fond of the old man.

The young man realized that he should have been more careful, that perhaps there was some truth after all in the belief that totally honest people never get rich. He was forced to admit that he had no business sense at all — probably the very reason he was still poor. And now even poorer! A feeling of rebellion en-gulfed him and he crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room.

What could he do? He’d let himself belured into a well-sprung trap. He had only one alternative: to leave as quickly as possible. Who knows? Maybe his life was in danger, too. He didn’t want to spend the night in this place.

He decided the best thing to do would be to sneak out as quietly as possible. He tiptoed to the door and slowly turned the handle, but the door was bolted from the outside. The window was the only other exit, and it was about thirty feet above the ground. If he jumped, he’d surely break his neck. His only option was to ring for the butler.

He pulled the bell and waited. No one came.

He rang again. Nothing. Maybe the bell was out of order.

The house was totally silent. He was a prisoner.

He lay on the bed and the events of the day raced before his eyes. There was little he could do to fight off the feeling of absurdity that was beginning to overwhelm him. The blank sheet of paper he had bought for $25,000 kept drifting before him, as if bent on mocking him.

Sleep finally overtook him. He dreamed of a stranger luring him repeatedly to sign a thick document of the utmost importance, as if his life depended on it. He protested vehemently. There must be some mistake — the document was totally blank. . . .