Little by little, he seemed to emerge from a kind of trance. “W-what happened?” he stammered.
“You've been spying on me! I'm ill, and it's all your fault!” His tone became almost imploring.
“I've been talking nonsense, Momo. Forget it - forget me like everyone else. You must, you must!” He grabbed hold of Momo and shook her.
Her lips moved, but she couldn't get a word out. The man in gray jumped to his feet.
He peered in all directions like a cornered beast, then snatched up his briefcase and sprinted to the car.
The next moment, something very strange happened.
Like an explosion in reverse, all the dolls and their scattered belongings flew back into the trunk, which slammed shut.
The car roared off at such speed that grit and pebbles spurted from its wheels.
Momo sat there for a long time, trying to make sense of what she had heard.
As the dreadful chill seeped slowly from her limbs, so her thoughts became steadily clearer.
Now that she had heard the real voice of the man in gray, she could remember everything.
From the sun-baked grass in front of her rose a slender thread of smoke. The trampled butt of a small gray cigar was smouldering away to ashes.
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