“No matter. At any rate this imp has met with a just retribution after years of indescribable malignity. Look you!” He pulled out his watch; it was a very common one—in fact, one of the lowest products of the horological industry. “In place of this honest, faithful creature,” he continued, “I once had a gold repeater, which, I may truly say, cost a deal of money. It requited this sacrifice for years and years with untold malice; it never would go right; it made a point of falling down and hiding; the crystals broke constantly, thereby nearly reducing me to pauperism; at last the monster conspired with the hook of my gold watch-chain, and the two together entered into an intrigue against me. As for the hook, sir, there is much that might be said on that subject. The insidiousness of objects in general—I should like to talk to you about that, sir, but I fear I should discourse at some length—the insidiousness, I say, is expressed so visibly in the villainous physiognomy of hooks that one cannot be too much on one’s guard in having anything to do with these fiendish features. One is apt to think: ‘I know you, the wicked crookedness of your outer form betrays you, you shall not get the better of me;’ and then this very sense of security misleads one into being unwary. It is quite the reverse with other objects. Who, for instance, would suspect a simple button of any evil design?”
I begged him to finish the tragic story about his watch and hook.
“Ah, yes! Well, one night the hook crept softly across the small table, upon which I had carefully laid my watch, and artfully entwined itself into the seam of my pillow-case. I did not want the pillow. I lifted it suddenly and flung it to the foot-end of the bed, the watch of course going with it. In a noble arch it went flying through the air, struck the wall, and fell to the ground with a broken crystal. This was the last straw. I crushed it in cold blood like these criminal spectacles; the imp gave forth a sound, a hiss like a persecuted mouse; I swear to you that it was a sound quite outside the realm of physical nature. I then went and bought this modest timepiece for an absurdly low sum. Look at this faithful creature; note the expression of honesty in these homely features; for twenty years it has served me with steadfast fidelity; yes, I may say it has never given me any cause for complaint. The gold watch-chain I gave to my footman, the hook was condemned to die a shameful death in the sewer, and I wear my faithful turnip on this gentle silken cord.”
During this detailed account he had grown quite tranquil, and now placidly continued——
“Now for the story of this black hour! Look at this key”—he pulled out a small key, probably belonging to his valise—“and then at this candlestick!”—he held up the metal candlestick upside down close before my eyes, so that I could see a hollow place in the foot—“what do you think, what do you suppose, what do you say?”
“How am I to know?”
“For the space of a good half-hour I have looked for that key this morning. I nearly lost my senses; at last I found it, like this, do you see?”
He laid the key upon the little stand by his bed, and set the candlestick down upon it; the key just fitted the place under the foot.
“Now tell me who would suspect this, who would be capable of such superhuman circumspection as to foresee and avoid such infernal tricks on the part of the object! And is this what I live for? Am I to waste the precious bit of time I have in such a slavish search for a bagatelle? To search and search, and to search again! One should never say A. or B. has lived for such and such a time,—not lived, but searched! And I am very, very punctual, believe me!”
“Ah, yes, life is a perpetual search,” I said, with a sigh which might be taken to refer to the trials of life, while in truth it was called forth by the ennui which this detailed occupation with the bagatelle had caused. This accounted for my flat remark, the sole object of which was to change the subject at all hazards.