Upon my first reading of Jorge Luis Borges “Death and the Compass” I found myself reacting to the chain of events not unlike the bland but efficient Inspector Treviranus. The Hotel du Nord with its hateful whiteness, numbered divisibility, and general appearance of a bordello seemed a natural place for a crime of greed and betrayal to have gone sour on a luckless criminal. The lure of priceless sapphires and mistaken destination was more than
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showed last 75 words of 1253 total
logic and deduction.
As his last moments slipped away Lonnot pondered his deeds and convictions, not quite knowing how or why his wits had betrayed him. He had been lured into a Labyrinth from which he could not escape, doomed to die at the hands of his archenemy. All at once he felt a cold and distant impersonal sadness, for a man of reason had tried to explain fate and got lost in the process.