Mya Daung Nyo - Thin Thak and Thin Kan

The time is 192.... March 15th, 6:03 PM....

Francis Joseph MacPherson entered the Danboys Inn (or Hotel). (Ireland) The Danboys Inn was well known throughout Dublin as a haven for the poor, the scoundrels, the thieves, and the petty thieves. The surrounding area of ​​the hotel was a slum. It was filthy and smelly. The hotel itself was so crowded that the smell of people, the smell of food, the smell of garbage, the smell of filth, the smell of slop

The rain was falling in torrents. The sky was dark and gloomy. Small hailstones were flying in the air. The road was covered with hailstones. It was a wet and gloomy weather.

MacPhilips rushed into the hotel and hid in the bushes near the entrance. When he heard no sound from behind, he approached the door and looked around carefully. He pulled the top of his hat down over his face. He pulled the collar of his blazer up around his neck. He disguised himself as best he could. MacPhilips wondered who was following him. He didn't want anyone to know he had entered the hotel lobby, because MacPhilips was a criminal. He was a fugitive. He had killed.

Last October, MacPherson shot and killed the secretary of the Yashin Union in connection with a strike by Yashin workers in the city of Amherst. He has been on the run since the murder. He has been hiding in the hills around Dublin.

About half an hour ago, MacPherson had sneaked back into Dublin on a freight train. The train guard was a member of the Irish Communist Party, which MacPherson had joined.

MacPhilips, afraid of being followed, walked out of the door and looked around like a crow. With the experienced detective's eyes, MacPhilips' eyes were as wide as a shrimp's. He sighed in relief when he saw no trace of the pursuer in the street.

MacPhilips turned his back on the door and stood looking inside.

Although he was a tall man, he had broad shoulders and a large chest. When he walked, he walked like a wild animal in the forest. His face was thin and pale. His eyebrows were as dark as his hair. When he lowered his eyes, his large blue eyes shone brightly, and when they were turned up, he was a man of beautiful eyes. His jaw was not only square, but also full of skin. His nose was straight. His cheekbones were deep and his cheekbones were high. When he had a bad cough, his face would wrinkle.

Mayphilis was wearing a pair of dirty, ragged, blue sailor pants. He wore a raincoat over it, buttoned up at the neck. His shoes were old and worn. They squelched in the rain as he rode. Under his left arm he carried a revolver in a leather pouch. The pouch was slung around his neck.

When MacPherson entered the hotel room, he had a revolver in his raincoat in one hand. The hotel clerk and three old men who pretended to be poor were talking loudly. The clerk shooed one of the old men away.

The old man who had been driven away turned to look at Mephisto with a grim expression, then walked alongside Mephisto and out onto the road.

"It's so crowded, it's good to kill it."

"Aye... yes, very confused."

The two old men who were left behind were talking to each other.

The two old men who had survived were asking the hotel clerk for a bed. The clerk was begging and pleading for a driver.

MacPhilips passed by the hotel's ticket office and entered the main hall. The chairs were scattered about. Some were badly broken. Groups and groups of people were sitting and standing as they pleased, talking and talking. No one was neatly dressed. Bedbugs were everywhere. Some were young and old. The results of hunger and illness. Some were looking at the ceiling with their hands behind their backs. Some were standing and sitting like dogs, unable to find a place to sit.

Rolling out his cigarette in neat little pieces, MacPherson walked through the large hall, carefully scanning the faces of the people in the hall with a fox-like gaze. The people who were being stared at ignored MacPherson, and MacPherson half-opened the door and entered a large hall at the end of the hall on the right.

The room seemed to be a reading room, a playroom. Some of the tables were covered with newspapers. Some were lying on their stomachs playing chess on the tables. Some were reading. Some were playing cards. But most of the time, they were staring straight ahead, looking back at their own lives, and the more miserable and miserable they were, the more they hated the old world and planned to build a new one. They still cherished the great life that had been cut short.

MacPhilips, holding a cigarette in his left hand and a six-pointed handle between the two buttons of his raincoat, looked from table to table. No one paid any attention to MacPhilips. Even though MacPhilips was a fugitive, this group of people, who were tired of living and who had a heart for humanity, would not be a scoundrel. Laborers, thieves, and robbers, and the elderly and frail, would not be as weak and vulnerable as wealthy women. Murder was not uncommon among criminals.

MacPhilips, not finding anyone he wanted in the study, went into the dining room. The dining room was large and full of long tables. Under the tables were piles of bones that had been thrown away by those who had finished eating. When MacPhilips entered the dining room, some of the people were still eating. The people who were sitting on the tables, grinding their rice with their hands on their backs, sweating, did not know that MacPhilips had entered, and were eating by themselves.

MacPhilips glanced around the dining room and saw the man he was looking for. The man he was looking for was sitting in the far corner of the dining room, eating his meal without revealing his face. MacPhilips walked toward the man without looking around. The man MacPhilips found was about 30 years old. He was happily picking at the potatoes, cabbage, and ham on a porcelain plate.

The person who found Mephistopheles was wearing a blue dress and a white scarf around his neck. He had dark eyebrows and big eyes. His face was red and sweaty. Not only was his face red, but if you look closely, his neck and arms were also red. His nose was short and chubby, his mouth was big and his lips were thick. His body was very large, his bones showed that he was very big. His joints were big. His muscles were big and his arms were swollen and moving. He was the kind of person who could knock a cow over with his fist. When he ate, he sat up straight and looked straight ahead. While his mouth was full of food, he would place both hands on the table and chew his food. However, when he saw Mephistopheles, he stopped chewing and closed his mouth. He slowly put the hand holding the fork down on the table without making a sound. His face was pale and the chicken died.

MacPhilips sat down across the table from him. MacPhilips was shy and showed no sign of familiarity. However, MacPhilips knew with certainty that the person he was looking for was the man in front of him. The two were very dear comrades and friends. The man who was lying dead in front of MacPhilips was Jiponolin.

Gipson was with MacPherson in the farmers' strike. MacPherson was with him when MacPherson killed the secretary of the Farmers' Union. Gipson was working as a policeman in Dublin. However, Dublin Police Headquarters became suspicious of his connections with the Irish Communist Party, a revolutionary organization, and expelled Gipson from the police force. From that time on, Gipson, who had left the police force, became a member of the Revolutionary Organization and worked with MacPherson in the organization, becoming known as the "Brother Warriors" in the organization.

“What’s wrong, Jipo? What in the world are you two going through?” MacPherson began to speak. MacPherson’s large eyes were piercing into Jipo’s catlike eyes. MacPherson’s voice was human, but it was harsh and harsh, like the desperate cry of a young bird whose nest had been stolen.

"Have you given me the letters I asked you to give me? I haven't talked about my house since I left you and ran up the mountain last night. What's up? What are you doing, Gippo?" MacPherson asked Gippo again, almost out of breath, before he could answer the first question.

Ji Po's eyes blinked rapidly and his mouth moved slightly. But he didn't say anything. Then Ji Po wanted to speak but couldn't, so a loud, strangled sound came from his throat. He cut a potato into four pieces, stuck one in with a fork, and put it in his mouth. He chewed and spoke. It was as loud as thunder.

"Where are you from, Frankie?" he asked.

"Where I came from is none of your business, I don't have time to argue. I came to find you, to get news from you, to tell you the best news you know, first tell me, wait, have you given me the letters I asked you to give me? Let's eat later, answer me. Hey man... are you an animal, I'm running away from the police here. You didn't even miss a meal. Put down your fork, should I shoot you? I'm covered in blood. I came to you without risking my life, to hear the best news from you. Come on... tell me, answer me," MacPherson's anger flared up.