conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for a story with the title 'The Hoax'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Hoax
  Mert Sarnoff spirited Dick off to the Chelsea Hotel, where we had reserved a room for him a few doors down the hallway from us, and an hour later they joined me in Maury's office. I took Dick by the elbow, hauling him into an adjoining conference room. Maury's warnings about the mad scramble for the courthouse door had never left my mind.
  Dick laughed weakly. "Yeah," he said. "But don't look so worried. I couldn't have done it to you—not even if Edith wasn't involved. We're a united front. We'll sink or swim together."
  That evening, in concert with the five lawyers, we mapped out our general strategy. We would have to make a deal and we knew it. To plead "not guilty" would almost certainly mean a long and costly trial, with only a slim chance of winning. We knew that Nina's testimony, in the long run, might hurt us but could never convict us; Maury's cross-examination of her on the witness stand would eventually force her to admit that she had known all along it was a hoax. That admission would destroy her credibility before both judge and jury. Our case was threatened by Edith's involvement with the Swiss banks in Zurich and by my mistake in the affidavit, where I had sworn that George Gordon Holmes had picked me up at the airport on the day of my arrival in Miami on December 2nd, taken me to see an ailing Hughes, and then driven me to the Newport Beach Motel. The rental contract for my car at Miami Airport had been time-stamped and so had my arrival time at the motel. What I had claimed to have done in two hours could only have been done in five.
  The concept of plea-bargaining—the early revelation of the truth without trial in return for a lighter sentence—is at the root of the American judicial system. Without it, both the courts and prisons would be jammed to overflowing and the system itself would collapse like an overburdened donkey. Both the U.S. Attorneys and the New York District Attorney had already made the overtures to us; it only remained to make the best possible arrangement.
  Our primary aim, we decided, was to keep Edith out of prison. She was the least guilty of the three of us, and we had Nedsky and Barney to worry about—if both of us drew sentences, they would be parentless. Next, we would try to keep Dick's sentence to a minimum. He was my co-conspirator, my collaborator, but I was to be acknowledged as the mastermind who had so successfully sold the scheme to McGraw-Hill and Life. From the beginning there was no doubt that the sharpest edge of the judicial knife would fall on my neck. I accepted it with few qualms. I had never realized I was committing a crime—I had thought of it as a hoax. The money had always been there for restitution; the concepts of mail fraud and grand larceny were foreign to me and I had never dreamed of the possible penalties—but the feeling of guilt was still there. My heart was sore, rubbed raw with the knowledge that I had drawn Edith into something she had never understood. That was the deeper guilt. For that, in all ways, I suffered, and had to take the consequences.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: By contrast the world outside the office was an obstacle course and a jungle—and nowhere more so than in the Chelsea Hotel. There, in our two-bedroom suite on the fourth floor, Edith and I nightly created our private version of hell. Recriminations, tears, apologies, more recriminations, with the children yelling and crying, and Dick fleeing back to the less painful isolation of his own room; sometimes until three or four o'clock in the morning, Edith poured forth her anguish from wounds I had inflicted and which my mere appearance reopened; hour after hour I begged, I entreated, I pleaded, I apologized.
  But it had to be borne, because what she bore was worse. I could only, in retrospect, see Edith as a victim—a victim of her love for me, her trust, and her own naïveté. I had asked her to travel to Zurich for me as a courier and she finally agreed, and the reason for that agreement—which she gave to me now in New York for the first time—was an astonishing one. But I knew her, and I knew it was true. "I guessed about you and Nina," she said. "I knew it wasn't really over. I thought this would bring us closer together, what we needed. And I thought, what makes me sick now to realize how dumb it was of me, that if you did this thing it would keep you so busy you'd stay out of trouble." By trouble, of course, she meant only one thing: Nina.
  Edith had trusted me and I had failed her and betrayed her in every way possible. She faced charges in Switzerland as well as America, and it looked as though the Swiss were out for blood as well as the pound of flesh: their banks—their raison d'être as a nation, since the cuckoo clock had gone out of fashion—had been embarrassed and might even be accused, by a jury made up of other than Swiss bankers, as culpable. The sense of guilt I felt regarding the fate of her and the children cut deeper into my heart than any guilt I would have to plead before the court. My guilt before the law was clear and the limits of punishment was equally clear. But the limits of punishment and the method of payment for having placed Edith in such jeopardy, for having damaged her pride as a woman, and for the precarious future I might have created for two small boys—these punishments and penalties had no boundaries.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But the limits of punishment and the method of payment for having placed Edith in such jeopardy, for having damaged her pride as a woman, and for the precarious future I might have created for two small boys—these punishments and penalties had no boundaries. There, in our two-bedroom suite on the fourth floor, Edith and I nightly created our private version of hell. Recriminations, tears, apologies, more recriminations, with the children yelling and crying, and Dick fleeing back to the less painful isolation of his own room; sometimes until three or four o'clock in the morning, Edith poured forth her anguish from wounds I had inflicted and which my mere appearance reopened; hour after hour I begged, I entreated, I pleaded, I apologized.
  But it had to be borne, because what she bore was worse. I could only, in retrospect, see Edith as a victim—a victim of her love for me, her trust, and her own naïveté. I had asked her to travel to Zurich for me as a courier and she finally agreed, and the reason for that agreement—which she gave to me now in New York for the first time—was an astonishing one. But I knew her, and I knew it was true. "I guessed about you and Nina," she said. "I knew it wasn't really over. I thought this would bring us closer together, what we needed. And I thought, what makes me sick now to realize how dumb it was of me, that if you did this thing it would keep you so busy you'd stay out of trouble." By trouble, of course, she meant only one thing: Nina.
  Edith had trusted me and I had failed her and betrayed her in every way possible. She faced charges in Switzerland as well as America, and it looked as though the Swiss were out for blood as well as the pound of flesh: their banks—their raison d'être as a nation, since the cuckoo clock had gone out of fashion—had been embarrassed and might even be accused, by a jury made up of other than Swiss bankers, as culpable. The sense of guilt I felt regarding the fate of her and the children cut deeper into my heart than any guilt I would have to plead before the court. My guilt before the law was clear and the limits of punishment was equally clear.By contrast the world outside the office was an obstacle course and a jungle—and nowhere more so than in the Chelsea Hotel.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He was silent for a long moment. "It was an interesting experience," he said, "but I could have done without it. And you? Would you do it again?"
  On the morning of June 16, 1972, before United States District Judge John M. Cannella of the Southern District of New York, Clifford Irving was sentenced to two-and-a-half years' imprisonment. He spent seventeen months in three federal prisons, including two stays in solitary confinement, before he was paroled and released on February 14, 1974.
  Judge Joseph Martinis of New York State sentenced Richard Suskind to six months' imprisonment, and with time off for good behavior he served a total of five months.
  Edith Irving received from Judge Cannella a sentence of two years, all but two months of which were suspended; she served those two months in Nassau County Jail, near New York City. Swiss charges against her were not dropped, as previously promised, and in March 1973, despite the prosecutor's recommendation that she not be incarcerated, a Swiss tribunal in Zurich sentenced her to two years' imprisonment. On May 5, 1974, she was finally paroled and released.
  The Autobiography of Howard Hughes, by Clifford Irving and Richard Suskind, has never been published.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Autobiography of Howard Hughes, by Clifford Irving and Richard Suskind, has never been published.. On May 5, 1974, she was finally paroled and released. Swiss charges against her were not dropped, as previously promised, and in March 1973, despite the prosecutor's recommendation that she not be incarcerated, a Swiss tribunal in Zurich sentenced her to two years' imprisonment.
  Edith Irving received from Judge Cannella a sentence of two years, all but two months of which were suspended; she served those two months in Nassau County Jail, near New York City.
  Judge Joseph Martinis of New York State sentenced Richard Suskind to six months' imprisonment, and with time off for good behavior he served a total of five months. He spent seventeen months in three federal prisons, including two stays in solitary confinement, before he was paroled and released on February 14, 1974. Cannella of the Southern District of New York, Clifford Irving was sentenced to two-and-a-half years' imprisonment. And you? Would you do it again?"
  On the morning of June 16, 1972, before United States District Judge John M. "It was an interesting experience," he said, "but I could have done without it.He was silent for a long moment