THE MURDERER
It will be readily understood that at the moment of my leaving the
police official to go to Hagar Ziegler I was in a very unusual mood.
Within the past twenty-four hours I had been within an ace of losing my
life; I had seriously wounded if not actually killed a fellow-creature
in order to escape; I had endured the bitter mortification of police
detention; and had returned to Berlin to take up the thread of an
exciting struggle. And now on the top of all had come the murder of the
Jew, with its consequences of personal hazard to myself and its
disastrous menace to my plans. The examination by the police had,
moreover, been a great strain, and when I rose from it I felt both
nervous and unstrung.
I say this in order to account in some measure for an act which was
altogether foreign to my customary habit, and a paltering and cowardly
hesitation which I have never been quite able to understand.
I had been treading on very ticklish ground in that part of the
questioning which had related to my connexion with Ziegler's political
associates, and I had been most unpleasantly conscious that a very
little thing would have induced the official to order my detention. At
a time when in Althea's interests my freedom was so essential, such a
result would have been fatal, and the relief with which I had heard that
I could leave the house was indescribable.
This was the predominant feeling as I went to the room to see Hagar. It
was my part to assume indifference, however, and I plunged my hands into
my pockets with every appearance of casual assurance.
As I did so my heart seemed to stop suddenly; a shiver of dread chilled
me to the marrow; every muscle grew instantly tense and set; and then
with a bound the blood began to rush through my veins at a rate which
set every pulse throbbing violently.
My fingers had touched the ring which I had taken from the dead man's
grasp, the existence of which until that moment I had forgotten.
In an instant the conviction rushed on me, that if I returned to the
official and gave it him he would refuse to accept my explanation, would
connect me in some way with the crime, and have me detained if not
actually arrested.
The ring was certainly the most important clue; for it was virtually
certain that the owner of it was the man who had done the deed, and it
was my clear duty to hand it over to the police. To evade that duty
would be a piece of paltry cowardice. I realized all that clearly, but
at that moment I was a coward. I was afraid of being prevented from
making any further efforts on Althea's behalf. And that fear prevailed.
Instead of returning with it to the official, I slipped it on to my
finger and continued my way to see Hagar. It may appear like the
language of exaggeration to say that the ring seemed to burn the flesh
like a band of fire; but my nerves were so high-strung at the moment,
that that was precisely the sensation, and my hand was trembling like
that of a detected thief.
I was a little surprised to find that Hagar had almost entirely shaken
off her former agitation. This had apparently been caused as much by
her fears for her own life as by the horror at her father's fate; and
now that she was safe, she had set herself to the task of helping the
police to the utmost in the work of tracing the murderer.
The police were going to remain in the house, and she had readily
expressed her willingness to stay there also. For this purpose she had
sent for a relative to come and be with her. I concluded that the
police were resolved to keep her under close observation; but she did
not appreciate this fact.
My offers of help were therefore superfluous.
"You have been kindness itself, Herr Bastable. I shall never forget
that I owe you my life. Those men would have killed me, as they had
killed my poor father, had you not been here with me."
"Is there nothing more I can do for you?"
"No; unless you can help me to find those villains. I should know them
again and so would you, I am sure."
"Yes. But I do not think they were guilty of this."
"I know they were. Why else were they here?" she cried. She was
manifestly still holding to what I believed to be a quite mistaken
belief; but I had already given my opinion to the police, and to argue
with her was needless.
"I am going now, Fraeulein. There is no message I can take for you
anywhere? Nothing I can do?"
She hesitated, and after a pause said with some sign of anxiety: "I sent
to Herr von Felsen, but he has not come?" and she looked at me half
doubtfully, half questioningly.
"Would you like me to see him?"
"You are not friendly."
"I am your friend, remember that. I will certainly go to him if you
wish."
"Oh, if you would!" she cried, her face lighting with a smile of
gratitude.
"Of course I will," I agreed, and held out my hand.
She was an emotional girl, and instead of merely shaking my hand she
seized it, and was in the act of pressing her lips to it, when she
paused and glanced up in my face with a smile.
"It is a coincidence," she said, still holding my hand.
"What is?"
"Your ring. It is a facsimile of one I gave Hugo."
For an instant the room seemed to reel about me. I knew that she put
her lips to my hand and that it fell listlessly to my side as she
released it. I knew that next she was looking fixedly and with alarm at
some change in my face, and I heard her voice, faint and as if at a
distance.
"You are ill, Herr Bastable. You are white as death. What is the
matter?"
I must have staggered, too, for she put out her hands and held me.
But at that I made a strenuous effort. "I am all right. This--this has
all tried my nerves. I shall be all right in the air"; and with that I
walked none too steadily out of the house, dazed and thunderstruck by
the sinister truth which her words had revealed with this stunning
suddenness.
As soon as I reached the street I stood for a few moments breathing deep
draughts of the cool air while I sought to steady my bewildered wits,
and then plunged along at a rapid pace.
So it was von Felsen himself who was the murderer. It was all clear
enough to me soon. I could see his wily hand throughout. It was he who
had started the suspicion against Ziegler with hints and insinuations of
treachery dropped stealthily in likely quarters. He had planned it all
as a safe background for the deed he contemplated, and had probably
written the threatening letter with his own hand.
Driven to bay by the old Jew's determination to force the marriage with
Hagar and thus wreck his prospects in every other direction, he had seen
that his only escape lay in Ziegler's death; and he had been callous
enough to select the very eve of the marriage for the deed.
I recalled what Hagar had said about her father having told her that he
had a very private and important interview that night, and must not be
disturbed. Von Felsen had arranged that easily enough no doubt from his
knowledge of his victim's affairs. He would have little difficulty,
moreover, in getting into the Jew's house and to the Jew's room
secretly; and the rest was easy to guess.
There had probably been a struggle of some sort in which the ring had
been pulled off von Felsen's finger; but he had found his chance to
deliver the death-thrust in the back, and in his unnerved confusion
afterwards he had not missed the ring.
I believed him to be as great a coward as he was a scoundrel, and at
such a moment of crisis his thoughts would be too intent upon escaping
from the scene of his crime to think of anything else.
And now what ought I to do?
As I began to consider this, the thought flashed upon me that indirectly
I had been the cause of the Jew's death. It was my action in forcing on
the marriage which had led von Felsen to this desperate means of
preventing it. I had thrust him into a comer from which he could see no
other means of escape.
How often I had regretted that act of mine! Even Althea herself had
deemed it a mistake.
Regrets were useless now, however. I had to decide what line to take in
view of the fateful proof which had come into my possession. I had his
life in my hands. Was I to use the power to further my own purposes or
to help justice?
I had to a certain extent compromised myself by not disclosing the
possession of the ring to the police before I left the Jew's house, and
the fears which had operated to prevent my doing so had no doubt been
well grounded. But this did not prevent me from seeing plainly that my
duty was to return and state all I knew and give up the evidence I had.
It was a difficult problem. On the one side there was Althea's
happiness and all I cared for in life; on the other, the satisfaction of
the demands of abstract justice and the punishment of a murderer.
I do not know how another man placed as I was would have acted, but I
could not bring myself to make the necessary sacrifice. Let those blame
me who will, but let them first try to put themselves in my position.
I resolved to try and use the knowledge I had for my own ends.
There were many difficulties in the way. The deed was not one which I
could use to force the hands of von Felsen's friends. It was too
heinous. They would not dare to attempt to condone it. What I had
sought to obtain was the proof of some act of his which, falling far
short of such a crime as this, would drive them to agree to my terms in
order to save him from exposure and disgrace.
But I could use the power with von Felsen himself to force him to the
commission of such an act; and with this intention I resolved to go
straight to him now, using the message from Hagar as the reason for my
visit.
I should have to act very warily and use the utmost caution in choosing
the moment for showing my power.
I did not find him at his house, and at first this rather surprised me;
but I knew the clubs he belonged to, and set off to make a round of
them. Then I guessed his object. On such a night he would not dare to
be alone; cunning would lead him to do all he could to be able to
account for his time, should suspicion ever point in his direction.
I found him at the second effort, and sent in my name, saying that my
business was of the greatest importance.
"I must speak to you in private," I told him when he came out with an
assumption of irritation at my interruption of his pleasure. But it was
easy to see that under the surface he was intensely wrought and uneasy.
"I don't know what you can want with me," he said, as he led me to a
room where we could be alone.
"I have very grave news for you and a message. Herr Ziegler has been
murdered to-night, and his daughter wishes you to go to her at once."
He had schooled himself carefully to hear the news when it came.
"Murdered? Old Ziegler? Do you mean that, Heir Bastable?" he
exclaimed.
"Certainly. I have just come from there." I kept my eyes on him
closely, watching every gesture and expression.
"Good God!" he cried next, throwing up his hands, as if the significance
of the news were just breaking in upon him. He acted well, but could
not meet my eyes. "Tell me all about it."
"The police will tell you. They are at the house."
"Of course they would be," he said, keeping his head bent. Then, after
a slight pause: "Have they any clue to the thing?"
"Yes. They know who did it."
I spoke very sharply, and the unexpectedness of the reply startled him
out of the part he was playing. He glanced up quickly, his face pale
and his eyes full of fear. "Whom do they suspect?"
"They do not suspect. They know," I replied, emphasizing the last word.
Alarm robbed him of the power of speech for the instant, "I'm glad to
hear that," he said quite huskily. "Who was it?"
"Some of Ziegler's shady political associates. They were seen at the
house."
His sigh of relief was too deep to escape me; it came straight from his
heart. Before he answered he took out his case and lighted a cigarette.
"By Jove, the news has shaken me up; see how my hand trembles." Cool,
to draw pointed attention to his own agitation.
"It couldn't shake much more if you had done the thing yourself."
The cigarette dropped from his fingers. "I don't know what the devil
you mean. If it's a joke it's a devilish poor one."
"I was only wondering if you could have been more upset if you had done
it," I replied, fixing him again with a steady stare.
Whether he had any suspicion of what lay behind the words I do not know,
or whether some sense of danger nerved him to make an effort; but his
manner underwent a sudden change, and he became callous and cynical. "I
suppose you writing fellows affect that sort of experiment. If you can
bring yourself down to plain facts perhaps you will give me some account
of the affair."
"I should have thought you would be anxious to get to Fraeulein Ziegler
at once in such a case."
He laughed very unpleasantly. "Not if you knew how that girl bores me."
"You don't mean that you won't go to her?"
"What has it got to do with you?" He was fast recovering his
self-composure. Voice and manner were steadier, as the belief
strengthened that no suspicion would attach to him.
For a moment I hesitated whether to strike the blow which would bring
him to my feet, and my fingers went to the ring in my pocket. But I
resolved to wait. "It has nothing to do with me," I answered; "but as
you are going to marry her to-morrow, and this blow has come at such a
moment, you can understand how she needs the strength of your support."
"You don't suppose there can be any marriage to-morrow, surely! Of
course the old man's death has altered everything--made that impossible,
I mean."
"It would be like you to desert her at such a time; but she has all her
father's papers, you know, and is not exactly the sort of girl to stand
any fooling."
"She can do what she pleases, and so shall I," he answered with a shrug
and a sneer. "Anyway, she can't be married on the day after such a
thing."
I knew what he meant. He was not afraid of Hagar as he had been of her
father. There would be no marriage if he could avoid it.
"Well, I have given you her message, and if you don't intend to go to
her, it's your affair not mine"; and I turned on my heel.
"You haven't told me how it happened," he said quickly.
I turned for an instant. "You'll hear it all from the police and will
get their theory; and perhaps when you do hear it, you'll take my view
that they are all wrong. I told them so to-night."
I just caught his quick glance of consternation at this as I swung round
and went off. As I was crossing the hall I looked back and saw him
standing leaning against the table in moody thought.
I walked home thinking that the cool air would refresh me after the
strain of the night's events. I was worn out and sorely in need of
sleep.
My sister was waiting for me with a very worried expression in her eyes.
"I began to fear something had happened again, Paul," she said.
"Something has happened, Bess; but I can't talk to-night. I'm as tired
out as a hound after a hard day across country. I must get straight to
bed."
"You look awfully worried, dear. Eat something; I'm sure you need it."
"You girls always seem to think that if a man can only be got to eat,
nothing else matters," I exclaimed fretfully.
"Well, try the prescription now at any rate," she replied with a bright
smile. "And while you eat I have something to tell you."
"If it's anything in the shape of another worry keep it till the
morning; if it will keep, that is."
"I'm afraid it won't, Paul," she said, with such a rueful air that I
could not refrain from smiling.
"Well, I'll take your medicine, if only to please you"; and I sat down
to the dainty little meal she had had prepared. "What is it?"
"Eat something first," she insisted; and began to talk about a number of
insignificant matters.
"Now tell me," I said at length.
"We have another visitor, Paul."
"Another what?" I cried, looking up quickly.
"Althea's father, Paul. The Baron von Ringheim."
"The deuce!"
"I didn't know what to do. I couldn't send him away, and I did so wish
you would come home. He said he was in great trouble, and begged to be
allowed to stay here for to-night at any rate. And he is in trouble,
evidently."
"Where is he?"
"With Althea. They both asked me to send you up to them the moment you
came in."
A pretty complication in truth. A leader of the Polish Irreconcilables
in the house at such a time.
"I'll go to them," I said.
I went upstairs slowly, thinking how on earth to deal with so unwelcome
a crisis. For Althea's sake the thing must be faced and her father
sheltered somehow. But how?
Althea's voice called to me to enter when I knocked.
I opened the door, and then started back in dismay as I recognized in
her companion the eldest of the three men whom I had seen an hour or two
before in the murdered man's house.
For a moment I was literally struck dumb with amazement.