THE INVESTIGATION.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon when Herr Foligno called for me in
the dining-room, where I was sitting with the Captain. It had taken him
almost an hour to assemble those who were to inspect the scene of the
murder in the Lonely House. I had informed the Captain, a near relative
of the murdered man, of my terrible discovery, and he had been deeply
moved. He said:
"I was never intimate with old Pollenz, although he was my first
cousin. He was a hard usurer and a miser. He loved no one in the world
save his daughter, but that his end has been so horrible is certainly
very sad. Poor child, my dear little Anna! How will she bear this
fearful shock! I saw her about twelve o'clock here in Luttach with her
old maid, Johanna. She had been paying a visit to an aged aunt, and she
is probably still there. I must see if it be so. I do not willingly
visit the malicious old gossip, but if Anna is still with her, I must
go to prepare the poor child for the sad news that awaits her."
He sent Mizka to old Frau Lancic's, and in a few minutes she returned
to say that Fraeulein Anna had been with the widow, but that she had
left about a quarter of an hour before to make some purchases in the
village and then to return home.
Upon hearing this, the Captain determined to accompany the officials to
the Lonely House, for which he received permission from the District
Judge.
Soon after four o'clock we began our walk; not by the steep rocky path,
which was rather too difficult for the old District Physician, and
might prove dangerous, but in accordance with the Judge's directions,
by the longer way past the village of Oberberg.
We could make but slow progress, for the heat was still oppressive. The
old physician gasped and panted as we ascended the mountain. The Judge
with kindly consideration, begged him to walk slowly, although he
himself was trembling with impatience to reach our goal.
We met various people on the way. They greeted us politely and looked
after us with surprise. Intelligence of the murder had not yet reached
the village of Oberberg, and people could not imagine what so many
persons, accompanied by the captain of gendarmes, could have to do in
the little village. I walked first with the Captain. The Judge and his
clerk followed, and, naturally, very little was said as we pursued our
way; all were oppressed by a sense of what lay before them.
We had turned into the path by the crucifix leading on the left to the
Lonely House, and were but a short distance from the spot to which we
were tending, when the Captain suddenly stood still and said in a
faltering voice, "There comes my poor little Anna."
She came towards us hurriedly from the Lonely House. She was called
pretty Anna in the country round, and indeed she deserved the name. I
have scarcely ever in my long life seen so beautiful a girl. Even her
expression of intense anxiety could not distort her charming face. When
she recognized the Captain she flew towards him.
"Oh, uncle, my dear kind uncle, thank God you are here!" she cried. "I
am dying with anxiety; my father will not open the door. For a quarter
of an hour Johanna and I have been knocking in vain. Something must
have happened to him, or he would hear us and open the door for us."
The Captain put his arm round the lovely child and pressed a kiss upon
her white forehead. "My poor little girl!" he murmured. His voice
failed him; he could say no more; his eyes filled with tears; he tried
to control himself, but the compassion which he felt for the girl in
his arms was too intense; it mastered him; he could hardly utter a
word.
"Good heavens! What has happened?" cried Anna, extricating herself from
the Captain's embrace and gazing at him, her large black eyes dilated
with horror. "You call me your poor girl? There are tears in your eyes.
For God's sake tell me what it means! Has anything happened to my
father? Oh, answer me, uncle! I would rather hear the worst than suffer
such suspense."
The Judge answered instead of the Captain, who could not control his
voice. "Compose yourself, Fraeulein Anna," he said with grave
kindliness, "you need all your courage, all your self-control to endure
the misfortune which God has sent to you. Unfortunately your anxiety is
justified. Something has indeed happened to your father, my lifelong
friend."
"He is dead!" the girl cried, with what was almost a shriek; overcome
with grief, she tottered and would have fallen to the ground if the
Captain had not thrown his arms about her. The Judge took her hand with
deep sympathy, but she snatched it away and pushed him from her with a
gesture expressive of the most profound aversion.
"Do not touch me; I hate, I despise you!" she cried, as she cast
herself again into the Captain's arms. "Uncle, my dear kind uncle, you
tell me what has happened. I can hear the worst from you, but not from
that man."
The Judge, thus rudely repulsed, was deeply offended, but was too
magnanimous--his pity for the unfortunate girl was too profound to
admit of his expressing his resentment by a harsh word.
"You do me bitter wrong, Fraeulein Anna," he said gently. "I sympathize
sincerely with your pain, but I will not thrust my pity upon you. I
pray you, Captain, to inform her as mercifully as possible of what has
happened."
It was a hard task for the Captain, but it was his duty to fulfil it.
He motioned to the Judge and to myself to withdraw for a few steps, and
then took Anna's arm in his and, walking on before us, spoke to her in
the most sympathetic and loving way. He told me afterwards that in all
his life he had never had so hard a duty to perform. He searched in
vain for kindly words to soften the horror; he feared that the delicate
girl could hardly endure the frightful truth which he was forced to
tell her; but to his great surprise Anna showed a remarkable degree of
composure. She had not succumbed, he said, to pain and grief; she had
become ghastly pale and her dark eyes had gleamed with a strange
flickering fire, as, almost in a whisper, not to him, but to herself,
she had murmured, "Foully murdered and robbed; murdered for the sake of
his wretched money. He sacrificed his soul and now has given his
life for money." She shed no tear; her grief was too great, too
heart-breaking; but she trembled violently; her little hand shook as it
rested on her uncle's arm, and as he put his arm round her and tenderly
drew her to him, he could feel the violent beating of her heart. He
told her everything that he had heard from me. When he had finished,
she looked at him with flaming eyes.
"The vile murderer will be discovered," she said in a hoarse voice; "I
trust in God's justice."
Her composure was really remarkable, and gave great cause for anxiety.
I had lingered behind with the Judge and his clerk. We slowly followed
the Captain and Anna about twenty steps in the rear.
"I certainly am most unfortunately situated," said the Judge, turning
to me confidentially. "You heard the harsh words which the poor girl,
half crazed with pain and horror, spoke to me. I know what those words
mean. I am well aware that Fraeulein Anna is prejudiced against me. She
thinks that the hostility which her father showed to Herr Franz Schorn
was partly my fault. That she does so is well known in Luttach, and I
commit no indiscretion in telling you that there is an attachment
between Fraeulein Anna and Herr Schorn, of which old Pollenz
disapproved. Fraeulein Anna knows that Herr Schorn is my bitter enemy.
She has sided with him against me, but that her prejudice is as intense
as the words she has just spoken testify, I confess surprises me. Never
before have I seen in her the least sign of dislike. Imagine my
position. My official duty compels me to play the part of a
disinterested investigator. I cannot spare her pain, but I shall have
to subject her, with her old maid, to an examination. I must inquire
how it happened that the Lonely House was left unlocked, perhaps by
herself; every child in Luttach knows that old Pollenz always locked
the front door securely. I would give much, very much, to spare the
young lady this examination."
"If you would depute me to make it, Judge, such an act on your part
would be entirely justified by the peculiar relations in which you
stand to Fraeulein Anna Pollenz." The Clerk uttered these words very
quietly and in a businesslike tone, but the District Judge was not
pleased. He cast a sinister glance at the Clerk and asked, "What do you
mean by peculiar relations, sir?"
"Nothing but what you yourself indicated, and what, to use your own
words, every child in Luttach is familiar with," was the quiet reply.
"You allude to the foolish gossip which makes me the young girl's
rejected suitor? There is not one word of truth in it."
"Then old Pollenz lied, for he stated this, not as a secret, but quite
openly, in Luttach. At all events, such a report does exist, and it
will be confirmed unless you make use of your right to depute to me the
examination of the young lady."
"No, that I will not do. My standard of official duty is too exalted to
permit my neglecting it out of regard for my own feelings. I might
perhaps take your advice if I were forced to play the part of examiner
during the entire legal process, which must ensue upon this murder,
but, fortunately, that is not so; only the preliminaries are our duty.
Capital crimes," the Judge said turning to me, "do not come within the
domain of the District Judge. They are the business of the tribunal of
the country. Subsequent investigations will take place in Laibach. The
preliminary examination alone is my task, which, whatever it may cost
me, I will fulfil."
The Clerk made no reply; he simply bowed in sign that he had no further
remarks to offer. We now reached the goal of our wanderings. The Lonely
House stood before us. The Captain and Anna were standing near the
locked door, and upon a wooden bench beside it sat an old woman, old
Johanna, "The only servant of the house," the Judge whispered to me.
The Captain had just told her of the murder of her master. Paralyzed
with horror, incapable of speech, she was gazing up at him. When she
tried to rise, she sank back helplessly. The Judge opened the front
door with the key which I had given him.
Scarcely had he done so when Anna released herself from the Captain's
arm and would have been the first to rush into the house, had not the
Judge barred her way.
"Let me go," cried Anna. "I must go to my poor father. You dare not
hold me back."
She would have pressed past him, but he prevented her from doing so,
and with quiet resolve, in a perfectly judicial manner, said, "You must
not see your father yet, Fraeulein Anna. My official duty compels me to
exclude you from the room in which the crime has been committed until
it has been thoroughly searched. The traces which the murderer has
perhaps left behind must not be interfered with. You must either stay
here outside, or, if you wish, wait in your own room until it is
permitted you to see your father. Captain Pollenz, I pray you to remain
with your relative and to prevent Fraeulein Anna from making an attempt
to disturb the investigation by going into the murdered man's room. I
cannot permit it."
Anna retired. As the Judge forbade our entrance into the house, her
eyes seemed to flash with anger, but she controlled herself, only
bestowing upon Herr Foligno a glance of dislike and antipathy.
"I obey," she said, recovering her composure wonderfully. "I will wait
in my room with Johanna and my uncle. You shall have nothing to
reproach me with. I pray _you_, sir," she said, turning to the Clerk;
"I entreat _you_ to search, investigate. The blood of my poor father
cries to heaven. I must doubt its justice should you not succeed in
discovering the ruthless murderer."
"Rest assured, Fraeulein Anna, that I shall leave nothing undone----"
"I did not address you," Anna interrupted the Judge; "I entreat _you_,
the assistant, to fulfil your duty; search for the murderer, whoever he
may be, deliver him to the vengeance of the law. I trust you. You will
not be influenced by fear or considerations of any kind. Do not answer
me; I trust you; I know you will do everything to discover the
criminal, even though you do not promise me. Come uncle, come Johanna,
we will wait in my room."
While Anna was speaking, Herr Foligno's expression was, strangely
enough, that of timidity and embarrassment; his lips moved; he seemed
to wish to reply but could not. He retreated silently, as Anna, without
looking in his direction, passed him. She entered the room at the left
of the hall, her own apartment, and the Captain and the old maid, still
half paralyzed with terror, followed her silently.
The Clerk also made no reply to Anna's strange words; he had been much
astonished by them, as were all who heard them. With a keen searching
look he regarded the Judge. Not until the door had closed behind Anna
and the Captain did he say, whispering so softly that only I and the
Judge could hear, "If you do not feel sufficiently well, Herr Foligno,
to undertake the examination and will delegate me to conduct it, I am
quite ready to do so."
"No, no," the Judge replied in as low a tone. Aloud he said, "Follow
me, gentlemen. We must begin our melancholy task."