El secuestro

They left without saying a word.

Referring to those circumstances, he would say:

—I walked beside Barsut the way a man condemned to death marches toward the place of execution, all his strength gone; with a persistent sensation, that of emptiness filling the gaps inside me.

"Barsut, for his part, was scowling; I understood that there, seated by the window, his elbow propped on the handrail, he was storing up rages to unleash against the invisible enemy his instinct warned him lay hidden at the villa in Temperley."

Erdosain went on:

—Now and then I told myself how curious it would have seemed to the other passengers to learn that those two men, sunk into the leather cushioning of the seats, were: one the soon-to-be murderer and the other his victim.

"And yet everything went on just the same; the sun blazed out there over the fields: we had left behind the meat-packing plants, the stearin and soap factories, the glass and iron foundries, the cattle pens with the steers nosing the posts, the avenues still to be paved, their flats stained with plaster and furrows.

And now, with Lanús behind us, began the sinister spectacle of Remedios de Escalada: monstrous red-brick workshops and their black maws, under whose arches the locomotives maneuvered, while far off, between the tracks, gangs of wretches could be seen shoveling gravel or hauling sleepers.

"Farther on, amid a stunted growth of plane trees poisoned by soot and the reek of petroleum, ran the slanting row of red cottages for the company's employees, with their tiny gardens, their blinds blackened by smoke, and the paths strewn with slag and cinders."

Barsut rode lost in thought.

—Which way is it?

Erdosain stretched out his arm, vaguely indicating the distance they had to walk, and Barsut set off in that direction.

Now they crossed the streets in silence toward the Astrologer's villa.

The tender blue of the morning fell over the hedgerows of the slanting streets.

Stalks, pastel washes of every green, and trees built up shapeless vegetal edifices, crested with supple plumes and forked by labyrinths of red woody growth.

—Lovely morning, said Barsut.

And they did not speak again until they reached the front of the villa.

—Here it is, said Erdosain.

Barsut sprang back and, eyeing him with an incredible sharpness, exclaimed:

—And how do you know it's here, if there's no number?

Commenting later on this incident, Erdosain would say:

"One may say there is an instinct for crime, an instinct that lets a man lie instantly without fear of falling into contradictions, an instinct that is like the urge for self-preservation and that, at the sharpest moment of the struggle, lets him find means of escape that are almost beyond belief."

Erdosain raised his eyes and, with a composure unexpected in him and surprising afterward, answered him:

—Because I came around here yesterday to look about.

He would have sworn that Erdosain was lying, but his pride kept him from backing down, and Erdosain, to announce them, clapped hard with the palms of his hands.

The broad brim of a straw hat covering half his face, and in his shirtsleeves, the Man Who Saw the Midwife stopped before the red-painted wire gate.

—Is the lady in? asked Barsut.

Bromberg, without answering, slid the bolt and opened the gate: then he started up a path that wound toward the house through the eucalyptus grove, and the two men followed him.

—Where are you going?

Barsut turned his head.

Barsut opened his mouth in a frenzy for air, the upper part of his body doubling over instantly.

He fell, and crushed into the grass he seemed to be dead, his legs drawn up and his lips slightly parted.

The Astrologer took him by the joint of the arms, his fingers hooked under the armpits, and in this manner they carried him to the abandoned coach house.

They brought the unconscious man into a stall: a thick chain was fastened to one of the pillars by a padlock.

With the end of the chain the Astrologer secured Barsut's foot above the ankle, made several knots with the links, then fastened it with a padlock, which screeched as it opened, and Erdosain, straightening up over the fallen man, said, looking at the Astrologer:

—You see?

It was ten in the morning.

—I have time to catch the express that gets into Rosario at six.

—What, you're going to Rosario?

—Well, what if I have to send the telegram to the landlady of the boarding house?

—Yes, everything.

—It's the best way to get hold of Barsut's luggage without arousing suspicion.

—Yes, the trunk and two crutches.

—Perfect.

—Very good.

At twelve the Astrologer was boarding the train.