The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 2Poe, Edgar Allan
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The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 2
Poe, Edgar Allan
American fiction -- 19th century; Fantasy fiction; Horror tales, American; Short stories
equal roots, or one who did not clandestinely hold it as a point
of his faith that x2+px was absolutely and unconditionally equal
to q. Say to one of these gentlemen, by way of experiment, if you
please, that you believe occasions may occur where x2+px is not
altogether equal to q, and, having made him understand what you
mean, get out of his reach as speedily as convenient, for, beyond
doubt, he will endeavor to knock you down.
“I mean to say,” continued Dupin, while I merely laughed at his
last observations, “that if the Minister had been no more than a
mathematician, the Prefect would have been under no necessity of
giving me this check. I know him, however, as both mathematician
and poet, and my measures were adapted to his capacity, with
reference to the circumstances by which he was surrounded. I knew
him as a courtier, too, and as a bold intriguant. Such a man, I
considered, could not fail to be aware of the ordinary policial
modes of action. He could not have failed to anticipate—and
events have proved that he did not fail to anticipate—the
waylayings to which he was subjected. He must have foreseen, I
reflected, the secret investigations of his premises. His
frequent absences from home at night, which were hailed by the
Prefect as certain aids to his success, I regarded only as ruses,
to afford opportunity for thorough search to the police, and thus
the sooner to impress them with the conviction to which G——, in
fact, did finally arrive—the conviction that the letter was not
upon the premises. I felt, also, that the whole train of thought,
which I was at some pains in detailing to you just now,
concerning the invariable principle of policial action in
searches for articles concealed—I felt that this whole train of
thought would necessarily pass through the mind of the Minister.
It would imperatively lead him to despise all the ordinary nooks
of concealment. He could not, I reflected, be so weak as not to
see that the most intricate and remote recess of his hotel would
be as open as his commonest closets to the eyes, to the probes,
to the gimlets, and to the microscopes of the Prefect. I saw, in
fine, that he would be driven, as a matter of course, to
simplicity, if not deliberately induced to it as a matter of
choice. You will remember, perhaps, how desperately the Prefect
laughed when I suggested, upon our first interview, that it was
just possible this mystery troubled him so much on account of its
being so very self-evident.”
“Yes,” said I, “I remember his merriment well. I really thought
he would have fallen into convulsions.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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