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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 9, Página 1
After
two
years
I
remember
the
rest
of
that
day,
and
that
night
and
the
next
day,
only
as
an
endless
drill
of
police
and
photographers
and
newspaper
men
in
and
out
of
Gatsby’s
front
door.
A
rope
stretched
across
the
main
gate
and
a
policeman
by
it
kept
out
the
curious,
but
little
boys
soon
discovered
that
they
could
enter
through
my
yard,
and
there
were
always
a
few
of
them
clustered
open-mouthed
about
the
pool.
Someone
with
a
positive
manner,
perhaps
a
detective,
used
the
expression
“madman”
as
he
bent
over
Wilson’s
body
that
afternoon,
and
the
adventitious
authority
of
his
voice
set
the
key
for
the
newspaper
reports
next
morning.
Most
of
those
reports
were
a
nightmare—grotesque,
circumstantial,
eager,
and
untrue.
When
Michaelis’s
testimony
at
the
inquest
brought
to
light
Wilson’s
suspicions
of
his
wife
I
thought
the
whole
tale
would
shortly
be
served
up
in
racy
pasquinade—but
Catherine,
who
might
have
said
anything,
didn’t
say
a
word.
She
showed
a
surprising
amount
of
character
about
it
too—looked
at
the
coroner
with
determined
eyes
under
that
corrected
brow
of
hers,
and
swore
that
her
sister
had
never
seen
Gatsby,
that
her
sister
was
completely
happy
with
her
husband,
that
her
sister
had
been
into
no
mischief
whatever.
She
convinced
herself
of
it,
and
cried
into
her
handkerchief,
as
if
the
very
suggestion
was
more
than
she
could
endure.
So
Wilson
was
reduced
to
a
man
“deranged
by
grief”
in
order
that
the
case
might
remain
in
its
simplest
form.
And
it
rested
there.
But
all
this
part
of
it
seemed
remote
and
unessential.
I
found
myself
on
Gatsby’s
side,
and
alone.
From
the
moment
I
telephoned
news
of
the
catastrophe
to
West
Egg
village,
every
surmise
about
him,
and
every
practical
question,
was
referred
to
me.
At
first
I
was
surprised
and
confused;
then,
as
he
lay
in
his
house
and
didn’t
move
or
breathe
or
speak,
hour
upon
hour,
it
grew
upon
me
that
I
was
responsible,
because
no
one
else
was
interested—interested,
I
mean,
with
that
intense
personal
interest
to
which
everyone
has
some
vague
right
at
the
end.
I
called
up
Daisy
half
an
hour
after
we
found
him,
called
her
instinctively
and
without
hesitation.
But
she
and
Tom
had
gone
away
early
that
afternoon,
and
taken
baggage
with
them.
“Left
no
address?”
“No.”
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana