Possession Page #4

Lost. Destroyed. Who knows? | There's lots we haven't got.

Not one of Blanche's | paintings has ever | turned up, for instance.

So who do you think | wrote the letters?

We've never been able | to verify who he was,

but Ash certainly | isn't one of the candidates.

You've got nothing. | I mean, | it's just a thought.

Of course, I've thrown out | a lot of thoughts today,

and you've pretty much | shot them all down, so...

Yes, well, | it seems like a bit of | a wild-goose chase to me.

I'd like to do | some more reading.

[Sighs] | I suppose you'll wish to | stay here overnight then?

Well, I can't really afford | to stay overnight.

Unless you want me huddled | downstairs in your doorway.

I suppose I could put up | with you for one evening, | couldn't I?

No doubt you know | Fergus Wolfe then.

I'm sorry. | Uh, yeah, we're in | the same department.

I imagine that | he told you that we're...

occasionally | on together.

- No, he didn't. | - Well, did he...

Did he say anything... | about me?

Uh...

No.

Right. I'll use | the bathroom first. | Get out of your way.

Please. I'm just sort of | a brush and flush | kind of guy, so...

Forget I said that.

Maud. | [Clears Throat]

Can I show you something?

Are these... | How did you get... | Those are the originals.

I took them. | I sort of stole them. | Took them?

Where from? | The London Library.

How could you do that? | It was on impulse.

Impulse?

Right. I've seen that | take-what-you-want attitude | in other...

What, in other Americans?

[Scoffs] | God, what is it with | you people and Americans?

Look, I know that | I shouldn't have taken them. | I know that.

But, Maud, I want to | find out what happened?

Did he or didn't he | send the letter?

You might not buy | into my theory, | but to me,

Blanche's diary | suggests that it's possible.

Wouldn't someone | have unearthed | a thing like this?

- That's what makes it so big. | - Potentially so big.

- Well, no one has. | - Probably because | those were never sent.

Are you doing your homework?

No, I'm just... | writing stuff.

Stuff for me. | It's nothing.

You're a closet poet. | Uh...

more like basement, | really.

I'm just, uh, | just fooling around.

Is that what | you want to be | when you grow up?

No, I'm gonna | be safe and teach | like everybody else.

Besides, | there's no such thing | as poets anymore.

Well... poet,

do you want a secret | about his family home | before you go?

Michell's late again.

Roland asked for | another day off, Fergus.

Oh, really? | Where's he gone?

I didn't ask, | and he didn't say.

He's American, for God's sake. | He's probably off | trafficking drugs.

Did his new discovery | lead to anything?

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