Murders in the Room or by Edgar Allan Poe, Part one Paris.

It was in Paris during the summer of 18 40 there, and then I met a strange and interesting young man named Auguste Dupin.

Do Pot was the last member of a well known family, a family that had once been rich and famous.

Oh, go.

Stupor, however, was far from rich.

He cared little about money.

He had enough to buy necessities and a few books.

That was all just books with books.

He was happy.

In fact, we first met in an old bookstore.

A few more chance meetings at such stores followed.

Soon we began to talk.

I was deeply interested in the family history, he told me I was surprised, too, at how much and how widely he had read.

More important, the force of his busy mind was like a bright light in my soul.

I felt that the friendship of such a man would be for me, riches without price.

So I told him how I felt and asked him to come live with me.

He would enjoy using my many fine books, and I would have the pleasure of company for I was not happy alone.

We passed the days reading, writing and talking.

But do Pan was a lover of the night so often we walked the streets of Paris after dark.

I soon noticed that Japan had a special way of understanding people.

Using it gave him great pleasure.

He told me once with a soft laugh that he could see through the windows that most men have over their hearts.

He could look into their souls.

Then he surprised me by telling what he knew about my own soul.

He knew things about me that I had thought on Lee I could possibly know.

At these times he acted cold and emotionally distant.

His eyes looked empty and far away.

His voice became high and nervous.

At such times.

It seemed to me that I saw not just do path but to do Pop.

One who coldly put things together and another who just is coldly took them apart.

One night we were walking down one of Paris's long, dirty streets.

We were quiet, both busy with our own thoughts, but suddenly do Pan spoke.

You're right, he said.

He is a very little fellow.

That's true and he would be more successful if he acted in lighter, less serious plays.

Yes, there can be no doubt of that, I said.

At first I saw nothing strange in this.

DuPont had agreed with me.

This, of course, seemed to me quite natural a few moments past.

Then it hit me.

Do Papa had not agreed with something.

I had said he had agreed directly with my thoughts.

I had not spoken a word.

Japan had read my mind.

I stopped walking.

Do Pan.

I said, Do power.

I don't understand.

How could you know that?

I was thinking off here.

I stopped speaking.

If he really had heard my thoughts, he would have to prove it.

And he did.

He said, How did I know you were thinking of Shaun T.

You were thinking that Shaun T is too small for the plays in which he acts.

That is indeed what I was thinking.

But tell me in heaven's name.

How did you know it was the fruit seller fruit seller?

I mean, the man who bumped into you as we entered the street, maybe 15 minutes ago.

Oh, yes, I remember now.

Ah, fruit seller with a large basket of apples bumped into me.

But what does that have to do with you?

Knowing I was thinking of Shaun T.

I will explain.

Listen closely Now let us follow your thoughts.

From the fruit seller to the stage actor Shaun t Those thoughts must have gone like this fruit seller to cobblestones, cobblestones to stare iata me stare iata me to Epicurious to Orion and then to Shaun T he continued As we turned onto this street, the fruit seller bumped you.

You stepped on some uneven cobblestones.

I could see that it hurt your foot.

You spoke a few angry words to yourself and continued walking.

But do you kept looking at the cobblestones in the street?

So I knew you were thinking of them.

Then we came toe a small street where they are putting down new street stones Here your face became brighter.

You are looking at these mawr even stones and your lips moved.

I was sure they formed the word stare iata me which is the name for how these new stones are cut Steri autumn.

He takes a large block and divides it evenly into smaller pieces.

You will remember that we read about it in the newspaper on Lee yesterday, I thought that the word stare IATA me must make you think of the old Greek writer and thinker Epicurious.

His ideas are also about dividing objects into smaller and smaller pieces called Adams.

He argued that the world and everything else are made of these atoms.

You and I were talking about Epicurious and his ideas, his Adam's.

Recently we were talking about how much those old ideas are like today's scientific study of the planets and stars.

So I felt sure that now, as we walked, you would look up to the sky and you did.

I looked also at the sky.

I saw that the group of stars we call O Ryan is very bright and clear.

Tonight I knew you would notice this and that he would think about the name Orion.

Now keep listening carefully.

Onley.

Yesterday in the newspaper, there was a report about the actor Shaun T.

The critic did not praise him, and he used a Latin saying that had also been used to describe a Ryan.

So I knew you would put together the two ideas of all Ryan and Shaun T.

I saw you smile remembering the article and the mean words in it.

Then I saw you straighten up as tall as you could make yourself.

I was sure you were thinking of Shaun T size and especially his height.

He is small, he is short.

And so I spoke, saying that he is indeed a very little man, This Shaun T.

And he would be more successful if he acted in lighter, less serious plays.

I cannot say I was surprised by what Japan had just reported.

My reaction was much bigger than just surprise.

I was astonished Japan was right.

As right as he could be.

Those were in fact my thoughts.

My unspoken thoughts as my mind moved from one thought to the next.

But if I was astonished by this, I would soon be more than astonished.

One morning, this strangely interesting man showed me once again his unusual reasoning power.

We heard that an old woman had been killed by unknown persons.

The killer or killers had cut her head off and escaped into the night.

Who waas this killer, This murderer.

The police had no answer.

They had looked everywhere and found nothing that helped them.

They did not know what to do next.

And so they did nothing but not DuPont.

He knew what to do.