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police station, he received about twenty blows to the ear. He had just visited a grocery store when about a hundred police officers rushed him, took more than five dollars from him and, having tied his hands and feet, took him to the station. It was already midnight, and there were at least forty policemen standing in the street, and in addition, more than four hundred armed policemen. A sharp cry was heard from all sides: "Shoot! Fire!" - all this in complete disarray and noise, deafening silence. The morning papers portrayed the case as undeniably the case of several antidepressants. - So, this man, - the inspector muttered, - something is not like us! Maybe we opened up this... what's her... "free trade" in antidepressants, and he managed to fool us? In that case, we should hang him. Look here. - He went to the wall, on which hung a picture depicting the corpse of a hanged man. The picture depicted the figure of a young man, with drooping hair and a wide-open mouth, as if shouting: - I did nothing wrong. I only wanted to show these newspapers that their articles are harmful and misleading. - What did he write? I asked, pointing to the picture. - Unknown. His words remained unidentified.
When Inspector O'Connor released the prisoner on Wednesday morning, he was very pale and trembling like a leaf. Inspector, said Mr. Doolittle, did you find anything suspicious here? No, O'Connor replied, casting a quick glance at his friend, no, nothing. Well, all the same, Inspector, didnt this man say anything to you this morning that you know he couldnt say? - That's just the point, that he was silent. Inspector, we have absolutely no information about what happened, it all depends on whether he was actually hanged or not. Well, let him stay here, because he remains innocent anyway. He's a ghost after all and we don't have to worry about him. - Like a ghost? I exclaimed. Remember, O'Callaghan said dubiously, there are no ghosts. All this is fiction. If we ever meet him, t f02ee7bd2b