have one. I came here, as a point of fact, to end the conviction that I could do such things; the conviction that kept me for so long from living in any ordinary fashion. The conviction that frightened people, even the president of a republic, about what I might know that they wished to keep unknown. Yet people believed in the idea of it all, people wanted and feared it, even if I never appeared outside my chambers again. I suppose I could not remember if I believed in it before they did, or someone else was first."
"You wished to keep me diverted, while you plotted an escape from your pursuers and planned a sequence of occurrences that would leave behind your identity as the real Dupin. That was the nature of our inquiry to you-a distraction."
"Yes," he replied forthrightly, "I suppose at first. I believe I was tired: tired not of living but of having lived. Yet you persisted. You were certain we were here to resolve something-not only that we could, but that we were meant to. Did you tell them about the Baron's version? That mob outside the courthouse, I mean."
"I was about to tell them," I replied, with a humorless laugh, looking down at my memorandum book, where I had transcribed the Baron's entire lecture as I remembered it. Duponte asked to see it. I watched as he examined the pages.
"I will destroy this," I said when he put it back on the table. "I have decided. I will not lie about the death of a man of truth. It will never be repeated."
"But it will, Monsieur Clark," Duponte said gloomily. "Many times, probably."
"I have told no one the Baron's version!" I insisted. "I do not think he was able to tell Bonjour, or anyone else before he died. He wanted to glory in speaking it first in front of a crowd. The original document is destroyed, monsieur; I assure you, that was the only record of it."
"It is not a matter of whether he informed any associates of his conclusions. You see, the Baron is different from most only in his qualities of diligence and indelicacies and, if you wish, a certain bull-dog pertinacity not unlike your own. His ideas, however-wholly unoriginal. Thus we discover your mistake. Whether his speech burns in the prison stove or the Great Fire of Rome, his ideas shall return in the commonplace thoughts of others who inquire after Poe's death."
"But there are none-"
"There will be. Of course there will be. Other investigators, scores, hundreds of them. It may be many years, but the Baron's conclusions, and those equally appalling in their misperceptions and equally appealing in their humanity, shall rise again. They will not be stopped as long as Poe is remembered."
"Well, then, I will start with eliminating this one," I said, and tore out the first page where I had written the Baron's lines.
"Stay." He put out his hand.
"Monsieur?"
"They should not be stopped. Remember what I've said about the Baron?"
"We must see his mistakes," I said, a great, unexpected hope rising again in me, "to learn the truth."
"Yes. An example: I see from your memorandum book that the Baron mistakenly believed that Poe had arrived in Baltimore after being harassed on his way to New York. He concludes this merely because it was reported in the newspapers that Poe was on his way to New York to make arrangements for Muddy, the mother of Poe's deceased wife, to come live in Virginia with Poe and Poe's new fiancee, Elmira Shelton of Richmond. The Baron believes that because Poe did not board a train to New York immediately, a problem had arisen. The Baron demonstrates the common confusion of a plan that has been ruined with one that has been reconsidered. Let us follow."
"Follow?" My heart beat faster than Duponte's words.
Duponte turned stern. "Because you found me, Monsieur Clark."
"What?"
"You ask why I have risked coming today instead of fleeing safely. Because you found me. They were searching for me and you found me. Good fellow, if you will please!"
At this signal a porter wearing the Barnum's uniform now entered, pulling in one of Duponte's steamer trunks with such great effort it could have contained a human body inside. It was the very same trunk from which, in utter bewilderment, I had first picked up the Malacca cane. Duponte placed some coins in the man's hand for his labor and dismissed him, bolting the door to the courtroom after him.
"Now,