Fifteen

Abstract

The Skeleton Disguised as a Man had calmed down. After all, he was as old as Methuselah. And used to the worst abominations. Anything, that is, except being prevented from making speeches. That represented the greatest punishment that could be inflicted on him. Happily, the Amautas didn’t know that. No one knew it. Not even Harpitune. Only he. Without speeches life would cease. It would be like tearing out his heart. By contrast, a pound of bones more or less, could scarcely affect his fortune. In any case, they could easily be replaced by plastic, platinum, or whatever fits. As simple as that! Moreover, the bone quota being demanded of him, with all its implications, signified that his life was out of danger: the guerillas, for the moment, were not including him among those marked for the two hundred first-class burials. Almost jubilantly he retreated to his study. With great emotion he joined his three Magic Brains. They were spongelike.