*THE DEAN'S WATCH*
*I*
The day before the Christmas of 1832, my friend Wilfrid, his double-bass
slung over his shoulder, and I with violin under my arm, were on our way
from the Black Forest to Heidelberg. An extraordinary quantity of snow
had fallen that season. As far as our eyes could see over the great
desert plain before us, not a trace of the route, either of road or
path, was to be discovered. The north wind whistled its shrill aria
about our ears with a monotonous persistence, and Wilfrid, with wallet
flattened against his thin back, his long heron-legs stretched to the
utmost, and the visor of his little flat cap pulled down over his nose,
strode along before me, humming a gay air from "Ondine." Every now and
then he turned his head with a grim smile, and cried:
"Comrade, play me the waltz from 'Robin'--I wish to dance!"
A peal of laughter always followed, and then the brave fellow would push
on again with fresh courage. I toiled on behind in his footsteps, with
the snow up to my knees, and my spirits sinking lower and lower every
moment.
The heights about Heidelberg had begun to appear on the distant horizon,
and we were hoping to reach the town before nightfall, when we heard the
gallop of a horse behind us. It was about five o'clock, and great
flakes of snow were whirling about in the gray light. Soon the rider
was within twenty steps. He slackened his pace, examining us out of one
corner of his eye. We also examined him.
Imagine a big man with red beard and hair, wrapped in a brown cloak,
over which was loosely thrown a pelisse of fox-skins; on his head a
superb cocked-hat; his hands buried in fur gloves reaching to the
elbows. On the croup of his stout stallion was strapped a well-filled
valise. Evidently he was some burly sheriff, or burgomaster.
"Hey, my lads!" he cried, drawing one of his big hands from the muff
which hung across his saddle-bow, and clapping his charger's neck, "we
are going to Heidelberg, I see, to try a little music."
Wilfrid eyed the traveller askance.
"Is that any affair of yours, sir?" he answered, gruffly.
"Eh? yes; I should have a piece of advice to give you."
"Well, you can keep it till it's asked for," retorted Wilfrid,
quickening his pace.
I cast a second glance at our new companion. He looked exactly like a
great cat, with ears standing out from his head, his eyelids half
closed, and a long, bristling mustache; altogether he had a sort of
purring, paternal air.
"My friend," he began again, this time addressing me, "the best thing
you can do is to return whence you came."
"Why, sir?"
"The famous maestro Prinenti, from Novare, has announced a grand
Christmas concert at Heidelberg. Everybody is going to it; you will not
get a single kreutzer."
This was too much for Wilfrid.
"A fig for your maestro, and all the Prinentis in this world!" he cried,
snapping his fingers. "This lad here, with his long curls and blue eyes,
and not a hair yet on his chin, is worth an army of your Italian
charlatans. Though he never played outside the Black Forest, he can
handle a bow with the first musician in Europe, and will draw melody
from his violin such as was never heard before in Heidelberg."
"Hear, hear!" cried the stranger.
"It is just as I tell you," said Wilfrid, blowing on his fingers, which
were red with the cold.
Then he set out to run, and I followed him as best I might, thinking he
wished to make game of the traveller, who kept up with us, however, at a
little trot.
In this way we went on in silence for more than half a league. Suddenly
the stranger cried out, in a harsh voice:
"Whatever your talents may be, go back to the Black Forest. We have
vagabonds enough in Heidelberg already without you. It is good advice I
give you--you had best profit by it."
Wilfrid was about to make an angry retort, but the rider had started off
at a gallop, and already reached the grand avenue of the elector. At the
same moment, a great flock of crows rose from the plain, and seemed to
follow him, filling the air with their loud cries.
About seven o'clock in the evening we reached Heidelberg. There, in
fact, we found posted on all the walls Prinenti's flaming placards,
"Grand Concert, Solo, etc., etc." We wandered about among the different
ale-houses, in which we met several musicians from the Black Forest, all
old comrades of ours, who immediately engaged us to play in their band.
There were old Bremer, the violoncellist; his two sons, Ludwig and Carl,
capital second violins; Heinrich Siebel, the clarinet-player; and big
Berthe with her harp. Wilfrid with his bass-viol, and myself as first
violin, made up the troupe.
It was agreed that we should all go together, make one purse, and divide
after Christmas. Wilfrid had already engaged a room for himself and me.
It was on the sixth story of the little tavern "Pied-du-Mouton," in the
middle of the Holdergasse, and was only a garret, though, luckily, it
had a sheet-iron stove, in which we lighted a fire to dry ourselves.
While we were sitting quietly over the fire, roasting chestnuts and
discussing a pot of wine, who should come tripping up the stairs and
knock at the door but little Annette, the maid of the inn, in scarlet
petticoat and black-velvet bodice, with cheeks like roses, and lips as
red as cherries! Next moment she had thrown herself into my arms with a
cry of joy.
We were old friends, the pretty Annette and I, for we were both from the
same village, and, to say truth, my heart had long been captive to her
bright eyes and coquettish airs.
"I saw you go up just now," she said, drawing a stool to my side, "and
here I am, come for a minute's talk with you."
With that she began such a string of questions about this one and
that--in fact, about every one in our village--that I declare to you it
was as much as I could do to answer the half of them. Every little while
she would stop and look at me with such a tender air--we would have been
there till this time, had not suddenly Mother Greder Dick screamed from
the bottom of the stairs:
"Annette, Annette, are you ever coming?"
"This minute, madame, this minute," cried the poor child, jumping up in
a fright. She gave me a little pat on the cheek, and flew to the door.
But, just as she was going out, she stopped.
"Ah!" she cried, turning back, "I forgot to tell you. Have you
heard----?"
"What?"
"The death of our pro-recteur Zahn?"
"Well, what is that to us?"
"Ah, yes; but take care, sir, take care--if your papers are not all
right! To-morrow morning, at eight o'clock, they will come to ask for
them. They have arrested, oh! so many people during the last two weeks.
The pro-recteur was assassinated yesterday evening, in the library, at
the Cloister of Saint-Christophe. Last week the old priest, Ulmet
Elias, who lived in the Jews' quarter, was killed in the same way. Only
a few days before that they murdered the nurse, Christina Haas, and
Seligmann, the agate-merchant of the Rue Durlach. So, my poor Kasper,"
she added, with a tender glance, "take good care of yourself, and be
sure that your papers are all right."
All the while she was speaking, the cries below continued.
"Annette, O Annette, will you come? Oh, the miserable creature, to
leave me here all alone!"
And now, too, we could hear the shouts of the guests in the saloon
calling for wine, beer, ham, sausages. Annette saw that she must go,
and ran down the stairs as quickly as she had come up.
"_Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!_" I heard her soft voice answering her mistress,
"what can be the matter, madame, that you should make such an outcry?
One would think the house were on fire."
Wilfrid closed the door after her, and came back to his seat. We looked
at each other with some uneasiness.
"This is strange news," said he at last. "At any rate, your papers are
all in order?"
"Certainly," I replied, and showed him my pass.
"Good! There is mine, I had it viseed before we left. But still, all
these murders bode no good to us. I am afraid we shall make but a poor
business here. Many families must be in mourning, and then, besides all
these annoyances, the trouble which the police will give us."
"Bah!" cried I, "you take too dismal a view of everything."
We continued to talk about these strange events until long past
midnight. The fire in our little stove lighted up the angles of the
roof, the square dormer window with its three cracked panes of glass,
the mattress spread upon the bare boards, the blackened beams overhead,
the little fir table, which cast an unsteady shadow on the worm-eaten
floor. A mouse, attracted by the heat, darted back and forth like an
arrow along the wall. We could hear the wind without, whistling and
bellowing around the high chimney-stacks, sweeping the snow from the
gutters beneath the eaves in misty swirls. I was dreaming of Annette.
Silence had fallen upon us. Suddenly Wilfrid, throwing off his coat,
cried:
"It is time to sleep; put another stick of wood in the stove, and let us
go to bed."
"Yes, that is the best thing we can do," said I, and began to pull off
my boots. Two minutes afterward we were stretched on the mattress, the
coverings drawn up to our chins, and a great log under our heads for a
pillow. Wilfrid was asleep in a moment. The light from the little
stove blazed up and died away, the wind redoubled its violence without,
and, in the midst of dreams of Annette, I, too, in my turn, slept the
sleep of the just.
About two o'clock in the morning I was awakened by a strange noise. At
first I thought it was a cat running along the gutters; but, my ear
being close to the rafters, I could not remain long in doubt. Some one
was walking over the roof. I touched Wilfrid with my elbow to awaken
him.
"Hist!" whispered he, pressing my hand.
He also had heard the noise. The fire was just dying out, the last
feeble flame flickered on the crumbling walls. I was on the point of
springing from the bed, when, at a single blow, the little window, kept
closed by a fragment of brick, was pushed open. A pale face, with red
hair, eyes gleaming with phosphorescent light, and quivering cheeks
appeared in the opening, and looked about the room. Our fright was so
great that we could not utter a sound. The man passed first one leg,
then the other, through the window, and descended into the garret so
carefully that not a board creaked under his footsteps.
This man, with heavy, round shoulders, short and thick-set, his face
wrinkled and set like a tiger couched to spring, was none other than the
rider who had overtaken us on the road to Heidelberg. But what a change
in his appearance since then! In spite of the excessive cold, he was in
his shirtsleeves, a pair of breeches belted about his waist, woollen
stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. A long knife, flecked with
blood, glittered in his hand.
Wilfrid and I gave ourselves up for lost. But he did not seem to see us
under the shadow of the sloping roof, although the fire was fanned again
into a blaze by the current of cold air from the open window. The
intruder seated himself on a stool, cowering and shivering in a strange
way. Suddenly his greenish-yellow eyes fixed themselves on me, his
nostrils dilated; for more than a minute, which seemed to me an age, he
stared at me. The blood stood still in my veins. Then at last, turning
towards the fire, he coughed with a husky, hoarse sound, like that which
a cat makes, without moving a muscle of his face. Drawing a watch from
the fob of his pantaloons, he seemed to look at the hour, and then,
whether from absence of mind or some other reason, I know not, laid it
upon the table. At length, rising from his seat with an air of
uncertainty, he looked towards the window, appeared for a moment to
hesitate, and then passed out of the door, leaving it wide open behind
him.
I jumped up to shove the bolt, but already the man's steps were creaking
on the staircase two stories below. An irresistible curiosity overcame
my terror. I heard a window open, which looked upon the court, and, in
a moment, I was at the dormer in the landing of the stairs on the same
side. The court, seen from this height, was like a deep well. A wall,
fifty or sixty feet high, divided it into two parts. On the right was
the court of a pork-butcher; on the left, that of the Pied-du-Mouton.
The wall was covered with moss and the rank vegetation which flourishes
in the shade. Its summit reached from the window which the marauder had
just opened, in a straight line to the roof of a great, gloomy building
in the rear of the Bergstrasse. All this I took in at a glance, as the
moon shone out from among the heavy snow-laden clouds, and I trembled as
I saw the man come out through the window, and fly along the top of this
wall, his head bent forward, the long knife in his hand, while the wind
whistled and wailed a dismal chorus.
He gained the roof in front, and disappeared through a window. I
believed I must be dreaming. For several moments I remained with open
mouth, my breast bare, and my hair blown about by the wind and wet by
the sleet which fell from the eaves. At last, waking from my stupor, I
returned to our garret, and found Wilfrid with face blanched, and
haggard with fright, and muttering a prayer under his breath. I
hastened to bolt the door, throw some wood into the stove, and slip on
my clothes.
"Well?" asked my comrade, getting out of bed.
"Well," I replied, "we are safe this time. If that man did not see us,
it was only because Heaven was not ready yet for us to die."
"Yes," he murmured, "yes; it is one of the assassins Annette told us
about. Good Heavens! what a face! and what a knife!"
He fell back on the mattress. I swallowed what was left of the wine in
the pitcher; and, as the fire was now burning brightly, filling the room
with its heat, and the bolt seemed a strong one, I began to regain my
courage.
Still, the watch was there; the man might return to look for it. Our
fears awoke again at this idea.
"What is to be done now?" asked Wilfrid. "Our shortest plan will be to
go back at once to the Black Forest. I have no wish to play any more
double-bass. You can do as you choose----"
"But why? What should make us go back? We have committed no crime."
"Hush! speak low!" whispered he. "The word crime alone is enough to
hang us if any one heard. Poor devils like us serve as examples for
others. Were they only to find this watch here----"
"Come, Wilfrid," said I; "it is no use to lose one's head. I dare say,
a crime has been committed this night in the neighbourhood, it is more
than probable; but, instead of flying, an honest man should aid justice;
he should----"
"But how aid it? how?"
"The simplest way will be to take the watch to-morrow to the provost,
and tell him what has taken place."
"Never! never! I would not dare touch the watch."
"Very well; I will go myself. Come, let us go to bed again."
"No; I cannot sleep any more."
"As you will.--Light your pipe, then, and let us talk."
As soon as day dawned, I took the watch from the table. It was a very
fine one, with two dials--one for the hours, the other for the minutes.
Wilfrid seemed, however, by this time, to have regained his assurance.
"Kasper," he said, "all things considered, it will be better for me to
go to the provost. You are too young for such a piece of business. You
will not be able to explain properly."
"Just as you choose," I replied.
"Besides, it would seem strange for a man of my age to send a child."
"Oh, yes, Wilfrid; I understand."
I saw that his self-esteem had driven him to this resolution. He would
have been ashamed to own to his comrades that he had shown less courage
than I.
He took the watch, and we descended the stairs with grave faces.
Passing through the alley which leads to the street Saint-Christophe, we
heard the clinking of glasses and knives and forks. At the same time I
recognised the voices of old Bremer and his two sons.
"Faith, Wilfrid," said I, "a good glass of wine would not be bad before
we go out."
I pushed open the door into the saloon. All our friends were there;
violins and horns hung upon the walls--the harp in one corner. They
received us with joyful cries of welcome, and made us take seats at the
table.
"Hey!" cried old Bremer; "good luck, comrades! See the snow, and the
wind! The saloons will all be full. Every flake of snow in the air is
a florin in our pockets!"
The sight of my little Annette, as fresh and piquant as ever, smiling on
me with eyes and lips full of love, gave me new spirits. The best
pieces of ham were for me; and, every time that she came to set down a
glass near me, her hand would tenderly press my shoulder. Ah! how my
heart beat, as I thought of the nuts which we had cracked together the
night before!
Still, the pale face of the assassin would pass from time to time before
my eyes, making me shudder at the recollection. I looked at Wilfrid. He
was grave and thoughtful. As eight o'clock struck, we all rose to go,
when suddenly the door opened, and three mean-looking fellows, with
leaden faces, and eyes sharp as rats', followed by several more of the
same sort, presented themselves on the threshold. One of them, with a
long nose, which seemed to be on the scent for some mischief, a great
cudgel in his fist, advanced with the demand--
"Your papers, gentlemen!"
Every one hastened to satisfy him. Unhappily, however, Wilfrid, who was
standing near the stove, was seized with a sudden fit of trembling; and,
as he saw the practised eye of the police agent regarding him with an
equivocal look, the unlucky idea occurred to him of letting the watch
slip down into his boot. Before it reached its destination, however,
the officer stepped up to him, and, slapping him on the leg, cried, in a
bantering tone:
"Ah! ha! something seems to trouble you here!"
Upon this, Wilfrid, to the consternation of all, succumbed entirely. He
fell back upon a bench, as pale as death; and Madoc, the chief of
police, with a malicious shout of laughter, drew forth the watch from
his pantaloons. But, the moment the agent looked at it, he became
grave.
"Let no one go out!" he thundered to his followers; "we've the whole
gang here. 'Tis the watch of the dean, Daniel Van der Berg. Quick! the
handcuffs!"
Thereupon arose a terrible tumult. Giving ourselves up for lost, I
slipped down under the bench close to the wall. In spite of their
protests, poor old Bremer, his sons, and Wilfrid, were all handcuffed.
Just then I felt a soft little hand passed gently about my neck. It was
Annette's, and I pressed my lips upon it as a last adieu, when, seizing
my ear, she pulled it gently--gently. Under one end of the table I saw
the cellar-door open; I slipped through; the trap-door closed.
All had passed in a second. In my hiding-place I heard them trampling
over the door; then everything was still; my unlucky comrades were gone.
Without, on the door-step, I heard Mother Gredel Dick lamenting in
shrill tones the dishonour which had fallen on the Pied-du-Mouton.
All day long I remained squeezed behind a hogshead, with back bent and
legs doubled under me--a prey to a thousand fears. Should a dog stray
into the cellar--should the landlady take a fancy to refill the jug
herself, or a fresh cask have to be broached--the least chance might be
my destruction. I imagined old Bremer and his sons, Wilfrid, big Berthe
herself, all hanging from the gibbet on the Harberg, in the middle of a
great flock of crows that were feasting at their expense. My hair stood
on end.
Annette, as anxious as myself, carefully closed the door each time she
left the cellar.
"Leave the door alone," I heard the old woman say. "Are you a fool, to
lose half your time in opening it?"
After that the door remained open. I saw the tables surrounded by new
guests, who discussed in loud tones the doings of the famous band of
murderers who had just been captured, and exulted over the fate in store
for them. All the musicians from the Black Forest, they said, were
bandits, who made a pretence of their trade to find their way into
houses and spy out the bolts and bars, and then, next morning, the
master would be found murdered in his bed, the mistress and children
with their throats cut. They ought all to be exterminated without pity.
"All the town will go to see them hanged!" cried Mother Gredel. "It
will be the happiest day of my life!"
"And to think that the watch of Maitre Daniel was the means of their
capture! He told the police of its loss, and gave them a description of
it this morning; and, an hour afterward, Madoc bagged the whole covey."
Thereupon followed shouts of laughter and triumph. Shame, indignation,
terror, made me hot and cold by turns.
Night came at last. All the drinkers had gone, save two or three who
still lingered over their cups. A single candle remained lighted in the
saloon.
"Go to bed, madame," said Annette's soft voice to Mother Gredel; "I will
stay till these gentlemen go."
The carousers, tipsy as they were, understood the hint, and took their
leave, one by one.
"At last," thought I, as I heard the last one go, stumbling and
hiccoughing through the door--"they are all gone. Mother Gredel will go
to bed. Annette will come, without delay, to deliver me."
In this agreeable anticipation, I had already disentangled my numb
limbs, when these dreadful words of the portly landlady met my ears:
"Annette, go and close up, and do not forget the bar. I am going myself
into the cellar."
Alas! this seemed to be the praiseworthy, but for me most unlucky,
custom of the good lady--so as to see herself that all was right.
"But, madame," stammered Annette, "there is no need; the cask is not
empty----"
"Mind your own business," interrupted her mistress, whose candle already
was shining at the top of the steps.
I had hardly time to crouch again behind the cask. The old woman went
from one cask to the other, stooping beneath the low ceiling of the
vault.
"Oh, the hussy!" I heard her mutter; "how she lets the wine leak out!
But only wait--I will teach her to close the stopcocks better. Just to
see! just to see!"
The light cast dark shadows on the walls glistening with moisture. I
made myself as small as possible.
Suddenly, just as I thought the danger over, I heard a sigh from the
stout dame--a sigh so long, so lugubrious, that it struck me at once.
Something extraordinary must have happened. I risked a look. To my
horror, I saw Mother Gredel, with open mouth, and eyes starting from her
head, staring at the ground beneath the cask behind which I was standing
motionless. She had espied one of my feet, projecting beneath the joist
which supported the hogshead. No doubt, she thought she had discovered
the chief of the brigands, hidden there for the purpose of cutting her
throat during the night. My resolution was taken quickly. Rising up, I
said in a low voice:
"Madame, for Heaven's sake, have pity on me! I am----"
But thereupon, without listening--without even looking at me, she began
to scream like any peacock--the shrillest, the most ear-piercing
screams--and at the same time to clamber up the stairs as fast as her
fat body would let her. Almost beside myself with terror, I clung to her
robe--fell on my knees beside her. But this was worse still.
"Help! help! assassins! murder!" she shrieked. "Oh! oh! Let me go!
Take my money! Oh! oh!"
It was frightful.
"Look at me, madame," I tried to say; "I am not what you think."
But she was crazy with fear; she raved, she gasped, she bawled at the
top of her lungs--so that, had we not been underground, the whole
quarter would have been aroused. In despair, and furious at her stupid
folly, I clambered over her back, and gained the door before
her--slammed it in her face, and shoved the bolt. During the struggle
the light had been extinguished, and Mistress Gredel remained in the
dark, her voice only faintly heard at intervals.
Exhausted, almost annihilated, I looked at Annette, whose distress was
equal to mine. We stood listening in silence to the faint cries.
Gradually they died away and ceased. The poor woman must have fainted.
"Oh, Kasper!" cried Annette, clasping her hands. "What is to be done?
Fly! Save yourself! Have you killed her?"
"Killed her? I?"
"No matter--fly! Here--quick!"
And she drew the bar from before the street-door. I rushed into the
street, without even thanking her--ungrateful wretch that I was! The
night was black as ink--not a star to be seen, not a lamp lighted, snow
driving before the wind. I ran on for half an hour, at least, before I
stopped to take breath. I looked up--imagine my despair--there I was,
right in front of the Pied-du-Mouton again. In my terror I had made the
tour of the quarter perhaps two or three times, for aught I knew. My
legs were like lead; my knees trembled.
The inn, just before deserted, was buzzing like a bee-hive. Lights went
from window to window. It was full, no doubt, of police-agents.
Exhausted with hunger and fatigue, desperate, not knowing where to find
refuge, I took the most singular of all my resolutions.
"Faith," said I to myself, "one death as well as another! It is no
worse to be hung than to leave one's bones on the road to the Black
Forest. Here goes!"
And I entered the inn to deliver myself up to justice. Besides the
shabby men with crushed hats and big sticks whom I had already seen in
the morning, who were going and coming, and prying everywhere, before a
table were seated the grand-provost Zimmer, dressed all in black,
solemn, keen-eyed, and the secretary Roth, with his red wig, imposing
smile, and great, flat ears, like oyster-shells. They paid hardly any
attention at all to me--a circumstance which at once modified my
resolution. I took a seat in one corner of the hall, behind the great
stove, in company with two or three of the neighbours, who had run in to
see what was going on, and called calmly for a pint of wine and a plate
of sauerkraut.
Annette came near betraying me.
"Ah, good Heavens!" she exclaimed; "is it possible that you are here?"
But luckily no one noticed her exclamation, and I ate my meal with
better appetite, and listened to the examination of the good lady
Gredel, who sat propped up in a big arm-chair, with hair dishevelled,
and eyes still dilated by her fright.
"Of what age did this man seem to be?" asked the provost.
"Forty or fifty, sir. It was an immense man, with black whiskers, or
brown--I don't know exactly which--and a long nose, and green eyes."
"Had he no marks of any kind--scars, for instance?"
"No, I can't remember. Luckily, I screamed so loud, he was frightened;
and then I defended myself with my nails. He had a great hammer and
pistols. He seized me by the throat. Ah! you know, sir, when one tries
to murder you, you have to defend yourself."
"Nothing more natural, more legitimate, my dear madame.--Write, M.
Roth--'The courage and presence of mind of this excellent lady were
truly admirable.'"
Then came Annette's turn, who simply declared that she had been so
frightened she could remember nothing.
"This will do," said the provost. "If we need to make further inquiry,
we will return tomorrow."
The examination being thus ended, every one departed, and I asked Mme.
Gredel to give me a room for the night. She did not in the least
recollect ever having seen me before.
"Annette," she gasped, "take the gentleman to the little green room in
the third story. As for myself, sir, you see I cannot even stand on my
legs! O good Lord! good Lord! what does not one have to go through in
this world!"
With this she fell to sobbing, which seemed to relieve her.
"Oh, Kasper, Kasper!" cried Annette, when she had taken me to my room,
and we were alone, "who would have believed that you were one of the
band? I can never, never forgive myself for having loved a brigand!"
"How? Annette, you too?" I exclaimed; "this is too much!"
"No, no!" she cried, throwing her arms about my neck, "you are not one
of them--you are too good for that. Still, you are a brave man just the
same to have come back."
I explained to her that I should have died of cold outside, and that
this alone had decided me. After a few minutes, however, we parted so as
not to arouse Mother Gredel's suspicions, and having made certain that
none of the windows opened on a wall, and that the bolt on the door was
a good one, I went to bed and soon was fast asleep.
*II*
When I drew the curtain of my bed next morning, I saw that the
window-panes were white with snow, which was heaped up also on the sill
without. I thought mournfully of my poor comrades' fate. How they must
have suffered from cold! Old Bremer and big Berthe especially--my heart
ached for them.
While I was absorbed in these sad reflections a strange noise arose
outside. It drew near the inn, and, not without fear and trembling, I
jumped out of bed and rushed to the window, to see what new danger
threatened.
They were bringing the terrible band to confront it with Mme. Gredel
Dick. My poor companions came down the street between two files of
policemen, and followed by a perfect avalanche of ragamuffins, yelling
and hissing like true savages. There was poor Bremer, handcuffed to his
son Ludwig, then Carl and Wilfrid, and last of all stout Berthe, who
walked by herself, lamenting her fate all the while in heart-rending
tones:
"For Heaven's sake, gentlemen, for Heaven's sake, have pity on a poor
innocent harpist! I--kill! I--rob! Oh! good Lord! can it be possible?"
And she wrung her hands. The others looked doleful enough as they
walked with heads bent, and dishevelled hair hanging over their faces.
The procession, rabble and all, turned into the dark alley which led to
the inn. Presently the guards drove out the eager crowd, who remained
outside in the mud, with their noses flattened against the window-panes.
I dressed myself quickly, and opened my door, to see if there were not
some chance of escape, but I could hear voices and footsteps going to
and fro down-stairs, and made up my mind that the passages were well
guarded. My door opened on the landing, just opposite the window which
our midnight visitor of the night before must have used in his flight.
At first I paid no attention to this window, but, while I remained
listening, on a sudden I perceived that it was open--that there was but
little snow on the sill, and drawing near I perceived that there were
fresh tracks along the wall. I shuddered at this discovery. The man
had been there again, perhaps he came every night. The cat, the weasel,
the ferret, all such beasts of prey, have their accustomed paths in this
way. In a moment, everything was clear to my mind.
"Ah," thought I, "if chance has thus put the assassin's fate in my
hands, my poor comrades may be saved."
Just at this moment the door of the saloon was opened, and I could hear
some words of the examination going on.
"Do you admit having participated, on the 20th of this month, in the
assassination of the priest Ulmet Elias?"
Then followed some words which I could not make out, and the door was
closed again. I leaned my head on the banister, debating in my mind a
great, an heroic resolution, "Heaven has put the fate of my companions
in my hands. I can save them. If I recoil from such a duty, I shall be
their murderer! my peace of mind, my honour, will be gone forever! I
shall feel myself the most contemptible of men!"
For a long time I hesitated, but all at once my resolution was taken. I
descended the stairs and made my way into the hall.
"Have you never seen this watch?" the provost was saying to Gredel.
"Try to recollect, madame."
Without awaiting her answer, I advanced and replied myself, in a firm
voice: "This watch, sir, I have seen in the hands of the assassin
himself, I recognise it, and I can deliver the assassin into your hands
this very night, if you will but listen to me."
Profound silence for a moment followed my address. The astounded
officials looked at each other; my comrades seemed to revive a little.
"Who are you, sir?" demanded the provost, recovering himself.
"I am the comrade of these unfortunate men, and I am not ashamed to own
it," I cried, "for all, all of them, though poor, are honest. Not one
of them is capable of committing the crime they are accused of."
Once more there was silence. The great Berthe began to sob under her
breath. The provost seemed to reflect. At last, looking at me sternly,
he said:
"Where do you pretend you will find the assassin for us?"
"Here, sir, in this house, and, to convince you, I only ask to speak one
moment to you in private."
"Come," said he, rising.
He motioned to the chief detective, Madoc, to follow us, and we went
out.
I ran quickly up-stairs; the others close behind me. On the third
story, I stopped before the window, and pointed out the tracks in the
snow.
"There are the assassin's footsteps," said I. "This is where he passes
every evening. Night before last he came at two o'clock in the morning.
Last night he was here; no doubt he will return to-night."
The provost and Madoc looked at the footsteps for several moments
without saying a word.
"And how do you know these are the footprints of the murderer?" asked
the chief of police, incredulously.
I told them about the man's entrance into our garret, and pointed out
above us the lattice through which I had watched his flight in the
moonlight. "It was only by accident," I said, "that I had discovered
the footsteps this morning.
"Strange!" muttered the provost. "This modifies considerably the
position of the prisoners. But how do you explain the murderer's being
in the cellar?"
"The murderer was myself, sir."
And I related in a few words the events of the night before.
"That will do," said he, and then, turning to the chief of police,
continued:
"I must confess, Madoc, that these fiddlers' story has seemed to me by
no means conclusive of their having had anything to do with the murders.
Besides, their papers establish, for several of them, an _alibi_ very
hard to disprove.--Still, young man, though the account you give us has
the appearance of being true, you will remain in our power until it is
verified.--Madoc, do not lose sight of him, and take your measures
accordingly."
With this he went down-stairs, collected his papers, and ordered the
prisoners to be taken back to jail. Then, casting a look of contempt at
the corpulent landlady, he took his departure, followed by his
secretary.
"Madame," said Madoc, who remained with two of his men, "you will please
preserve the most profound silence as to what has taken place. Also,
prepare for this brave lad here the same room he occupied night before
last."
His tone admitted of no reply, and Mme. Gredel promised by all that was
sacred to do whatever they wished, if they would only save her from the
brigands.
"Give yourself no uneasiness about the brigands," replied Madoc. "We
will stay here all day and all night to protect you. Go quietly about
your affairs, and begin by giving us breakfast.--Young man, will you do
me the honour to breakfast with me?"
My situation did not permit me to decline this offer. I accepted.
We were soon seated in front of a ham and a bottle of Rhine wine. The
chief of police, in spite of his leaden face--his keen eye and great
nose like the beak of an eagle--was a jolly enough fellow after a few
glasses of wine. He tried to seize Annette by the waist as she passed.
He told funny stories, at which the others shouted with laughter. I,
however, remained silent, depressed.
"Come, young man," said Madoc, with a laugh, "try to forget the death of
your estimable grandmother. We are all mortal. Take a good drink, and
chase away all these gloomy thoughts."
So the time slipped away, amid clouds of tobacco-smoke, the jingling of
glasses, and clinking of cans. We sat apart during the day in one
corner of the saloon. Guests came to drink as usual, but they paid no
attention to us. At nine o'clock, however, after the watchman had gone
his round, Madoc rose.
"Now," said he, "we must attend to our little business. Close the door
and shutters--softly, madame, softly. There, you and Mlle. Annette may
go to bed."
The chief and his two followers drew from their pockets bars of iron
loaded at the ends with leaden balls. Madoc put a fresh cap on his
pistol, and placed it carefully in the breast-pocket of his overcoat, so
as to be ready at hand.
Then we mounted to the garret. The too-attentive Annette had lighted a
fire in the stove. Madoc, muttering an oath between his teeth, hastened
to throw some water on the coals. Then he pointed to the mattress.
"If you have any mind for it," said he to me, "you can sleep."
He blew out the candle, and seated himself with his two acolytes in the
back part of the room against the wall. I threw myself on the bed,
murmuring a prayer that Heaven would send the assassin.
The hours rolled by. Midnight came. The silence was so profound I
could scarcely believe the three men sat there with eye and ear strained
to catch the least movement--the slightest sound. Minute after minute
passed slowly--slowly. I could not sleep. A thousand terrible images
chased each other through my brain. One o'clock struck--two--yet
nothing--no one appeared.
At three o'clock one of the policemen moved. I thought the man was
coming--but all was silent again as before. I began to think that Madoc
would take me for an impostor, to imagine how he would abuse me in the
morning. And then my poor comrades, instead of aiding, I had only
riveted their chains!
The time seemed now to pass only too rapidly. I wished the night might
last forever, so as to preserve at least a ray of hope for me.
I was going over the same torturing fancies for the hundredth time--on a
sudden, without my having heard the least sound--the window opened--two
eyes gleamed in the aperture--nothing moved in the garret.
"They have gone to sleep!" thought I, in an agony of suspense.
The head remained there--motionless--watchful. The villain must suspect
something! Oh! how my heart thumped--the blood coursed through my veins!
And yet cold beads of sweat gathered on my forehead. I ceased to
breathe.
Several minutes passed thus--then, suddenly, the man seemed to have
decided---he glided down into the garret, with the same noiseless
caution as on the previous night.
But at the same instant a cry--a terrible, short, thrilling
cry--vibrated through the room.
"We have him!"
Then the whole house was shaken from garret to cellar by cries--the
stamping of feet--hoarse shouts. I was petrified by terror. The man
bellowed--the others drew their breaths in quick gasps--then came a
heavy fall which made the floor crack--and I heard only the gnashing of
teeth and clink of chains.
"Light!" cried the terrible Madoc.
By the flame of the burning coals, which cast a bluish light through the
room, I could dimly see the police-officers crouched over the body of a
man in his shirt-sleeves; one held him by the throat, the knees of the
other rested upon his chest; Madoc was roughly clasping the handcuffs on
his wrists. The man lay as if lifeless, save that from time to time one
of his great legs, naked from knee to ankle, was raised and struck the
floor with a convulsive movement. His eyes were starting from their
sockets--a blood-stained foam had gathered upon his lips.
Hardly had I lighted the candle when the officers started back with an
exclamation:
"Our dean!"
And all three rose to their feet, looking at each other with pale faces.
The bloodshot eye of the assassin turned towards Madoc, his lips moved,
but only after several seconds I could hear him murmur:
"What a dream!--Good God! what a dream!"
Then a sigh, and he lay motionless again.
I drew near to look at him. Yes, it was he, the man who had overtaken
us on the road to Heidelberg, and advised us to turn back. Perhaps even
then he had a presentiment that we would be the cause of his ruin.
Madoc, who had recovered from his surprise, seeing that he did not move,
and that a thread of blood was oozing along the dusty floor, bent over
him and tore asunder the bosom of his shirt; he had stabbed himself to
the heart with his huge knife.
"Eh!" said Madoc, with a sinister smile. "Monsieur the dean has cheated
the gallows. He knew where to strike, and has not missed his mark. Do
you stay here," he continued to us. "I will go and inform the provost."