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Five
dollars
for
five
thousand
words
,
ten
words
for
a
cent
,
the
market
price
for
art
.
The
disappointment
of
it
,
the
lie
of
it
,
the
infamy
of
it
,
were
uppermost
in
his
thoughts
;
and
under
his
closed
eyelids
,
in
fiery
figures
,
burned
the
"
$
3
.
85
"
he
owed
the
grocer
.
He
shivered
,
and
was
aware
of
an
aching
in
his
bones
.
The
small
of
his
back
ached
especially
.
His
head
ached
,
the
top
of
it
ached
,
the
back
of
it
ached
,
the
brains
inside
of
it
ached
and
seemed
to
be
swelling
,
while
the
ache
over
his
brows
was
intolerable
.
And
beneath
the
brows
,
planted
under
his
lids
,
was
the
merciless
"
$
3
.
85
.
"
He
opened
his
eyes
to
escape
it
,
but
the
white
light
of
the
room
seemed
to
sear
the
balls
and
forced
him
to
close
his
eyes
,
when
the
"
$
3
.
85
"
confronted
him
again
.
Five
dollars
for
five
thousand
words
,
ten
words
for
a
cent
—
that
particular
thought
took
up
its
residence
in
his
brain
,
and
he
could
no
more
escape
it
than
he
could
the
"
$
3
.
85
"
under
his
eyelids
.
A
change
seemed
to
come
over
the
latter
,
and
he
watched
curiously
,
till
"
$
2
.
00
"
burned
in
its
stead
.
Ah
,
he
thought
,
that
was
the
baker
.
The
next
sum
that
appeared
was
"
$
2
.
50
.
"
It
puzzled
him
,
and
he
pondered
it
as
if
life
and
death
hung
on
the
solution
.
He
owed
somebody
two
dollars
and
a
half
,
that
was
certain
,
but
who
was
it
?
To
find
it
was
the
task
set
him
by
an
imperious
and
malignant
universe
,
and
he
wandered
through
the
endless
corridors
of
his
mind
,
opening
all
manner
of
lumber
rooms
and
chambers
stored
with
odds
and
ends
of
memories
and
knowledge
as
he
vainly
sought
the
answer
.
After
several
centuries
it
came
to
him
,
easily
,
without
effort
,
that
it
was
Maria
.
With
a
great
relief
he
turned
his
soul
to
the
screen
of
torment
under
his
lids
.
He
had
solved
the
problem
;
now
he
could
rest
.
But
no
,
the
"
$
2
.
50
"
faded
away
,
and
in
its
place
burned
"
$
8
.
00
.
"
Who
was
that
?
He
must
go
the
dreary
round
of
his
mind
again
and
find
out
.
How
long
he
was
gone
on
this
quest
he
did
not
know
,
but
after
what
seemed
an
enormous
lapse
of
time
,
he
was
called
back
to
himself
by
a
knock
at
the
door
,
and
by
Maria
’
s
asking
if
he
was
sick
.
He
replied
in
a
muffled
voice
he
did
not
recognize
,
saying
that
he
was
merely
taking
a
nap
.
He
was
surprised
when
he
noted
the
darkness
of
night
in
the
room
.
He
had
received
the
letter
at
two
in
the
afternoon
,
and
he
realized
that
he
was
sick
.
Then
the
"
$
8
.
00
"
began
to
smoulder
under
his
lids
again
,
and
he
returned
himself
to
servitude
.
But
he
grew
cunning
.
There
was
no
need
for
him
to
wander
through
his
mind
.
He
had
been
a
fool
.
He
pulled
a
lever
and
made
his
mind
revolve
about
him
,
a
monstrous
wheel
of
fortune
,
a
merry
-
go
-
round
of
memory
,
a
revolving
sphere
of
wisdom
.
Faster
and
faster
it
revolved
,
until
its
vortex
sucked
him
in
and
he
was
flung
whirling
through
black
chaos
.
Quite
naturally
he
found
himself
at
a
mangle
,
feeding
starched
cuffs
.
But
as
he
fed
he
noticed
figures
printed
in
the
cuffs
.
It
was
a
new
way
of
marking
linen
,
he
thought
,
until
,
looking
closer
,
he
saw
"
$
3
.
85
"
on
one
of
the
cuffs
.
Then
it
came
to
him
that
it
was
the
grocer
’
s
bill
,
and
that
these
were
his
bills
flying
around
on
the
drum
of
the
mangle
.
A
crafty
idea
came
to
him
.
He
would
throw
the
bills
on
the
floor
and
so
escape
paying
them
.
No
sooner
thought
than
done
,
and
he
crumpled
the
cuffs
spitefully
as
he
flung
them
upon
an
unusually
dirty
floor
.
Ever
the
heap
grew
,
and
though
each
bill
was
duplicated
a
thousand
times
,
he
found
only
one
for
two
dollars
and
a
half
,
which
was
what
he
owed
Maria
.
That
meant
that
Maria
would
not
press
for
payment
,
and
he
resolved
generously
that
it
would
be
the
only
one
he
would
pay
;
so
he
began
searching
through
the
cast
-
out
heap
for
hers
.
He
sought
it
desperately
,
for
ages
,
and
was
still
searching
when
the
manager
of
the
hotel
entered
,
the
fat
Dutchman
.
His
face
blazed
with
wrath
,
and
he
shouted
in
stentorian
tones
that
echoed
down
the
universe
,
"
I
shall
deduct
the
cost
of
those
cuffs
from
your
wages
!
"
The
pile
of
cuffs
grew
into
a
mountain
,
and
Martin
knew
that
he
was
doomed
to
toil
for
a
thousand
years
to
pay
for
them
.
Well
,
there
was
nothing
left
to
do
but
kill
the
manager
and
burn
down
the
laundry
.
But
the
big
Dutchman
frustrated
him
,
seizing
him
by
the
nape
of
the
neck
and
dancing
him
up
and
down
.
He
danced
him
over
the
ironing
tables
,
the
stove
,
and
the
mangles
,
and
out
into
the
wash
-
room
and
over
the
wringer
and
washer
.
Martin
was
danced
until
his
teeth
rattled
and
his
head
ached
,
and
he
marvelled
that
the
Dutchman
was
so
strong
.
And
then
he
found
himself
before
the
mangle
,
this
time
receiving
the
cuffs
an
editor
of
a
magazine
was
feeding
from
the
other
side
.
Each
cuff
was
a
check
,
and
Martin
went
over
them
anxiously
,
in
a
fever
of
expectation
,
but
they
were
all
blanks
.
He
stood
there
and
received
the
blanks
for
a
million
years
or
so
,
never
letting
one
go
by
for
fear
it
might
be
filled
out
.
At
last
he
found
it
.
With
trembling
fingers
he
held
it
to
the
light
.
It
was
for
five
dollars
.
"
Ha
!
Ha
!
"
laughed
the
editor
across
the
mangle
.
"
Well
,
then
,
I
shall
kill
you
,
"
Martin
said
.
He
went
out
into
the
wash
-
room
to
get
the
axe
,
and
found
Joe
starching
manuscripts
.
He
tried
to
make
him
desist
,
then
swung
the
axe
for
him
.
But
the
weapon
remained
poised
in
mid
-
air
,
for
Martin
found
himself
back
in
the
ironing
room
in
the
midst
of
a
snow
-
storm
.
No
,
it
was
not
snow
that
was
falling
,
but
checks
of
large
denomination
,
the
smallest
not
less
than
a
thousand
dollars
.
He
began
to
collect
them
and
sort
them
out
,
in
packages
of
a
hundred
,
tying
each
package
securely
with
twine
.
