"Just a moment," the stranger said.
He took a small cassette recorder out of his pocket, switched it on, and placed it on his table.
"I'm interested in everything to do with the history of Viscos. I don't want to miss a single word, so I hope you don't mind if I record you."
Chantal did not know whether she minded or not, but there was no time to lose. She had been battling with her fears for hours, and now that she had finally found the courage to begin, she did not want any interruptions.
"Viscos has three streets, a small square with a cross in it, a few ruined houses and a few well-preserved ones, a hotel, a postbox, and a church with a cemetery next to it."
Her description this time was a little more complete. She was not so nervous now.
"As we all know, it used to be a haven for outlaws until our great lawmaker, Ahab, after his conversion by St. Savin, succeeded in transforming it into the village we know today, home only to men and women of goodwill.
"What the stranger doesn't know, and as I am going to explain now, is how Ahab managed to achieve that transformation. At no point did he try to convince anyone, because he knew what people were like; they would confuse honesty with weakness, and his authority would immediately be placed in doubt.
"What he did was to send for some carpenters from a neighboring village, give them a piece of paper with a drawing on it, and order them to build something on the spot where the cross now stands. Day and night throughout the next ten days, the inhabitants of the village heard the sound of hammers and watched men sawing up planks of wood, fitting them together and screwing one piece to another. At the end of the ten days, this giant jigsaw puzzle was erected in the middle of the square, covered with a cloth. Ahab called all the villagers together for the inauguration of the monument.
"Solemnly, without any speeches, he removed the cloth: there stood a gallows, complete with rope, trapdoor, everything, brand new and greased with beeswax to withstand the ravages of the weather for many years. Then, taking advantage of the fact that everyone was there, Ahab read out a series of new laws that protected farmers, encouraged the raising of livestock and rewarded anyone bringing new trade to Viscos. He added that, from then on, everyone would either have to find honest work or leave the village. That was all he said; not once did he mention the "monument" he had just inaugurated. Ahab did not believe in making threats.
"When the ceremony was over, people gathered together in various groups. Most of them believed that Ahab had been duped by the saint, that he had lost his nerve, and that he should be killed. During the days that followed, many plans were made with that objective in mind. But the plotters could not avoid the sight of the gallows in the middle of the square, and they thought: What is that doing there? Was it erected in order to deal with anyone who goes against the new laws? Who is on Ahab's side and who isn't? Are there spies in our midst?
"The gallows looked at the villagers, and the villagers looked at the gallows. Gradually, the rebels' initial defiance gave way to fear; they all knew Ahab's reputation and they knew he never went back on a decision. Some of them left the village; others decided to try the new jobs that had been suggested, simply because they had nowhere else to go or because they were conscious of the shadow cast by that instrument of death in the middle of the square. Before long, Viscos had been pacified and it became a large trading center near the frontier, exporting the finest wool and producing top-quality wheat.
"The gallows remained in place for ten years. The wood withstood the weather well, but the rope occasionally had to be replaced with a new one. The gallows was never used. Ahab never once mentioned it. The mere sight of the gallows was enough to turn courage into fear, trust into suspicion, bravado into whispers of submission. When ten years had passed and the rule of law had finally been established in Viscos, Ahab had the gallows dismantled and used the wood to build a cross instead."
Chantal paused. The bar was completely silent apart from the sound of the stranger clapping.
"That's an excellent story," he said. "Ahab really understood human nature: it isn't the desire to abide by the law that makes everyone behave as society requires, but the fear of punishment. Each one of us carries a gallows inside us."
"Today, at the stranger's request, I am pulling down the cross and erecting another gallows in the middle of the square," Chantal went on.
"Carlos," someone said, "his name is Carlos, and it would be more polite to call him by his name than to keep referring to him as 'the stranger.'"
"I don't know his real name. All the details he gave on the hotel form are false. He's never paid for anything with a credit card. We have no idea where he came from or where he's going to; even the phone call to the airport could be a lie."
They all turned to look at the man, who kept his eyes fixed on Chantal.
"Yet, when he did tell you the truth, none of you believed him. He really did work for an armaments factory, he really has had all kinds of adventures and been all kinds of different people, from loving father to ruthless businessman. But because you live here in Viscos, you cannot comprehend how much richer and more complex life can be."
"That girl had better explain herself," thought the hotel landlady. And that's just what Chantal did:
"Four days ago, he showed me ten large gold bars. They are worth enough to guarantee the future of all the inhabitants of Viscos for the next thirty years, to provide for major improvements to the village, a children's playground, for example, in the hope that one day children will live here again. He then immediately hid them in the forest, and I don't know where they are."
Everyone again turned towards the stranger, who, this time, looked back at them and nodded his head.
"That gold will belong to Viscos if, in the next three days, someone in the village is murdered. If no one dies, the stranger will leave, taking his gold with him.
"And that's it. I've said all I had to say, and I've re-erected the gallows in the square. Except that this time, it is not there to prevent a crime, but so that an innocent person can be hanged, so that the sacrifice of that innocent person will bring prosperity to the village."
For the third time, all the people in the bar turned towards the stranger. Once again, he nodded.
"The girl tells a good story," he said, switching off the recorder and putting it back in his pocket.
Chantal turned away and began washing glasses in the sink. It was as if time had stopped in Viscos; no one said a word. The only sound that could be heard was that of running water, of a glass being put down on a marble surface, of the distant wind shaking the branches of leafless trees.
The mayor broke the silence:
"Let's call the police."