Unawared Spies
I will tell you a very strange event
that happened to me a long time ago. Well, what happened to me and my
well-known Hortensio Lafre, one-eyed like me.
I lost one of my eyes as a child,
because of a hunting accident when I accompanied my father. Precisely this
hobby that became an obsession, ended up sinking his business and leading us
to poverty.
My mother settled in the humble
Latin Quarter of Paris with all her children. And growing up, I got an honest
job in an insurance company. I had to go to the homes of the insured to collect
the monthly payment.
Thanks to this work I met Mr.
Lambet, an honorable and elegant man who lived alone in a small house in Mont
Parnasse.
One day that man told me:
- Do not take it badly, but you
should put on a glass eye. In
- Yes, I understand- I said- but Mr.
Lambet ... how could I pay for a glass eye? Surely it is very expensive, and
you already know where I live and under what conditions ... I would not have
enough money to pay for it.
- Yes, I understand ... but ... it
reminds me so much of a deceased son of mine! Let me do something good for you.
Let me help you. I know a person who could get a glass eye for you. His name is
Monsieur Tricot. He is a merchant friend of mine. Works with lenses and of
course, with glass eyes. Go tomorrow and we'll see what can be done ...
I left there totally perplexed, but
moved by the kind gesture of that man. And, although my family did not finish
trusting, I went the next day to see Monsieur Tricot.
Upon entering his shop, he welcomed
me with open arms, and made me feel like a son. He began to search among dozens
of glass eyes and placed one so perfect in the basin that I almost cried from
the emotion when he looked at me in the mirror. When I asked him about the
price, he replied:
- You just have to thank your benefactor, Mr. Lambet.
Everything is fixed and ready to go ... And don't forget to take your eyes off
every night and put them in a glass of clean water. This will not mess up the
color of the eyes. Glass eyes are very sensitive to moisture and humidity…
However, the last night before
returning to Paris, something strange happened. I was in bed because I could
not sleep. It would be about twelve o'clock at night. Then, I heard the door
open, with that squeak so characteristic of rusty hinges. Of course, I didn't
even move, but I looked for the person who entered. He was the owner of the
hostel!
Surprisingly, the only thing he did
was taking the glass with my glass eye. What would he want my glass eye for? After
a couple of hours, he returned with the glass and left it in place.
The next morning, I didn't notice
anything strange in the eye.
- Hydrangea! What are you doing in
Hamburg?
- Well, I'm a merchant.
- Yes? And what do you sell?
- Glass eyes ...
- Like me!
- Do not tell me! What a
coincidence! Well, I came here for a benefactor who paid me an eye ... since
then ...
- A benefactor, you say?
- Yes. The truth is that the man was
very kind to me. He told me that he reminded him of his dead son! Then, he took
me to Monsieur Tricot and got me this job.
- The same thing that happened to
me! Wouldn't your benefactor be a tall, gray-haired man with a pointed beard?
- The same!
- Mr. Lambert!
- Before me he introduced himself as
Gervasio Turlot ...
- How weird!
After telling him what I experienced
that same night, we decided to go to the police station to tell our whole
story. The officer was so amazed that he could barely say a word. He asked us
for the glass eyes and returned after a while with his eyes split in half. Inside each of them was a tiny silk roll with tiny characters. They were
messages related to the commission of a murder and the debts of an army
officer!
There was no doubt. Mr. Lambet or Gervasio Turlot had been using us as
spies. Without us finding out!
By Juan Camilo Gutiérrez, Step 9
