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My defeat of Ratigan’s ridiculous murder machine had nothing to do with luck, or gambling.
If one knows how the laws of motion and inertia are inerrantly obeyed by the simplest of falling objects, the end result is predictable. (That Ratigan’s obsession with me led to his building many redundancies into his mechanism meant that I could use them against each other, defeating an end he could have enacted with the tinkle of a bell – had he been guided by his self-described superior mind instead of obsession and sadism.)
But now, before me, is the most terrifying gamble I have ever made in my life. My mind whirls in a panic like a prisoner on the Wheel, and the same mouse who can insult his captor or greet the Queen with equal eloquence stammers and cannot find the words.
On one side of the card, live my life as I always have, in cool perfect solitude, and let Dawson leave as he’d planned. On the other, the chaos of allowing another to share my work and my life.
I will always bless Providence for sending that distraught young mousetress to my door. For I leaped into the chaos, and introduced Dr. Dawson as my partner to her. At the relief on his own face, I knew I’d made the right bet.