Уловка 22

The Cellar

           "WhathaveIdone?"

           "Forthis,"repliedthemajor,and,withanairofdisillusioneddisgust,tosseddownonthetablethepadonwhichthechaplainhadsignedhisname."Thisisn’tyourhandwriting."Thechaplainblinkedrapidlywithamazement."Butofcourseit’smyhandwriting."

           "Noitisn’t,Chaplain.You’relyingagain."

           "ButIjustwroteit!"thechaplaincriedinexasperation."Yousawmewriteit."

           "That’sjustit,"themajoransweredbitterly."Isawyouwriteit.Youcan’tdenythatyoudidwriteit.Apersonwho’lllieabouthisownhandwritingwilllieaboutanything."

           "Butwholiedaboutmyownhandwriting?"demandedthechaplain,forgettinghisfearinthewaveofangerandindignationthatwelledupinsidehimsuddenly."Areyoucrazyorsomething?Whatareyoubothtalkingabout?"

           "Weaskedyoutowriteyournameinyourownhandwriting.Andyoudidn’tdoit."

           "ButofcourseIdid.InwhosehandwritingdidIwriteitifnotmyown?"

           "Insomebodyelse’s."

           "Whose?"

           "That’sjustwhatwe’regoingtofindout,"threatenedthecolonel.

           "Talk,Chaplain."Thechaplainlookedfromonetotheotherofthetwomenwithrisingdoubtandhysteria."Thathandwritingismine,"hemaintainedpassionately."Whereelseismyhandwriting,ifthatisn’tit?"

           "Righthere,"answeredthecolonel.

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