AN EXPLORING PARTY.
One evening there was so full an assembly round the table in the inn
that all the gentlemen with whom I had become acquainted in Luttach
were present, with the exception of Franz Schorn. He, as the
Burgomaster told us, had driven in the early morning to Goerz to bring
thence some expensive agricultural machines which he wished to employ
on his farm. He had promised the Burgomaster to come to the inn late in
the evening to give an account of his purchases, and he was expected to
appear any minute.
Since the young man had of late been a constant attendant at the round
table, the conversation which had formerly been quite lively with
regard to him had ceased. It was all the more lively on this evening,
and the subject of it was the purchases he had gone to Goerz to make.
Several of the men present were the owners of large estates. They at
least knew something of agriculture, and yet they were the very ones
who expressed themselves as disapproving of the novelties which Franz
was trying to introduce.
"He is always endeavouring to use something new-fangled and peculiar,"
Herr Gunther, one of the richest of the land-owners in the county,
declared. "These machines are probably useful enough in Germany, in
countries where labour is perhaps very expensive, but they do not suit
us here, where they are a ruinous innovation. We have so many poor
people about us who want work, that it is a positive crime to deprive
them of it by the use of machinery."
"That is just why Schorn buys the machines," another interposed, a man
by the name of Mosic. "He hates our poor Slavonic labourers and would
like to be independent of them. He has probably heard that many of our
best labourers have combined against him and will not work for the
German. Where does he get the money he is spending upon such expensive
machines?"
"The harvests for several years have not been so plentiful as to enable
a farmer to accumulate much cash," said another.
"Perhaps he buys on credit," said the notary, Dietrich.
"Not at all," rejoined the merchant, Meyer. "I have often offered him
credit, but he has never accepted it. 'What I cannot buy with ready
money I will go without; I will not burden myself with debt,' has
always been his reply to me."
"He does not need to do so; he is always economical, and has money
enough," remarked the shopkeeper, Weber. "As he was paying me yesterday
for his clover seed, I saw that his pocket-book contained a roll of
hundred-gulden notes."
"He has certainly spent a deal of money lately; he has purchased two
splendid horses, and they were really not necessary, for the two which
he gave in part payment to Schmelzigsohn were good enough. He is
squandering money at present. People whisper queer things of him. In
fact, they are beginning to whisper no longer, but to talk loudly, and
before long what they say will be proclaimed in the market place."
"It certainly is strange that Schorn has so much money at his command.
Before old Pollenz was murdered he seemed to have very little."
For an instant profound silence followed the last remark of Mosic's. A
strange expression spread over the countenances of those present. The
innuendo in the words just spoken made a most painful impression upon
all. The Clerk was the first to recover himself. With an angry look at
Mosic, he said in a tone of harsh reproof:
"How dare you, Herr Mosic, utter such an accusation against an absent
member of our circle? I shall inform Herr Schorn of what you have said
that he may call you to account for it."
Herr Mosic changed color.
"Oh, pardon me, sir," he said, and his voice trembled; "you entirely
misunderstood me. I have no idea of uttering an accusation against Herr
Schorn. I only repeated the stupid talk of the townsfolk. Of course I
attach no importance to it; it is not my fault if people will talk."
"You ought not to repeat such nonsensical gossip," the Clerk said
angrily.
Hitherto the Judge had taken no part in the conversation. He had sat
silent drinking glass after glass of wine, but now he turned to the
Clerk, and in a very odd tone said, with a glance toward me:
"You judge rather hastily, sir; you should remember that the voice of
the people is the voice of God."
"Pardon me, Judge," cried the doctor; "in this case the despicable
gossip is the voice of the devil; no honest man should repeat or defend
it."
"So say I. 'Tis a cowardly, unworthy accusation!" exclaimed the
Captain, and the Burgomaster nodded assent. "Franz is a rough, morose
fellow, but a man of honour through and through, incapable of
committing a crime."
"Besides," added the doctor, "very little understanding is necessary to
perceive that he never could have committed the murder. Even if he had
been a hard-hearted wretch quite capable of it, no suspicion of _this_
crime could attach to him."
"Indeed!" said the Judge, contemptuously; "I really am curious to learn
why no possible suspicion in this case could attach to Schorn."
"Upon my word, it is sad to think that I, an old doctor, understanding
nothing of criminal law, should have to instruct a learned Judge as to
what his simple, sound, good sense should teach him, but since it is
so, since such ridiculous gossip has found no one in this circle to
expose it as such, it must be. The murderer was certainly a man with
whom old Pollenz was very intimate; Franz he hated like sin and held
him to be his mortal enemy.
"When little Anna went to Luttach with old Johanna, her father locked
the front door behind them, and, as always when resting at noon,
withdrew to his own room and bolted himself in. Whoever wished to enter
the house or to see its owner would be obliged either to break down the
door or be admitted by old Pollenz himself. Now, no sensible human
being could believe that the old man would have opened his door for
Schorn, to allow himself to be murdered--for Franz Schorn, of whom he
was afraid, of whom he always said, 'Schorn will kill me one of these
days.' He would have drawn a double bolt on every door if Franz had
asked for admittance, but on this occasion he drew back the bolt and
opened the door. There is no trace of any violence used in opening it,
and a bolted door cannot be opened unless from within, or with
violence; therefore I maintain that the murderer must have been an
intimate friend of old Pollenz, and in no case can the slightest
suspicion attach to Franz Schorn. I think I have now proved this
clearly."
"Clear as sunlight; the legal profession loses a shining light in you,
doctor," the Judge rejoined, his thin lips curled in a contemptuous
smile. "After your lucid defense," he continued, "it seems to me
incumbent upon us all to say not one word to Franz Schorn of our
previous conversation; he would surely be deeply offended and insulted
if he could believe that any one of us entertained the smallest doubt
of his innocence. We must take it upon ourselves to discountenance the
town gossip wherever we hear it, always taking care that the young man
learns nothing of the rumours concerning him. The object of such
rumours can never combat them himself. Should he try to do so, it would
but strengthen belief in them; but we can have many opportunities to
silence slander. I hope you all agree with me, gentlemen."
All agreed. The doctor offered the Judge his hand in token of
acknowledgment, and said with a kindly nod:
"You are a good fellow, after all, Judge, and I beg your pardon. It is
fine of you to stand up so bravely for Franz, although you cannot
endure him. I will not forget it of you."
That the Judge's words had produced their effect upon all present, even
upon those most opposed to Schorn, was evident when the young man soon
afterward entered the room; he was received with more cordiality and
kindness than ever before; it really seemed as if Herr Gunther and Herr
Mosic were trying by their courtesy to atone for the words spoken in
his absence.
Franz was so pleasantly surprised by this friendly reception that he
became far more amiable and genial than ever before. At the
Burgomaster's request, he explained the new machines which he had
bought in Goerz and the use to which he intended to put them, not only
for his own advantage, but hoping to improve the agriculture of the
entire Luttach valley by introducing them generally.
This excited a little war of words between him and the two land-owners,
who declared themselves opposed to the introduction of new methods, but
their opposition was expressed with so much moderation that Franz could
not take offense.
And the Captain, who, as a good Conservative, was strongly opposed to
the introduction of machinery in agricultural operations, sided with
the land-owners.
"You mean well, Franz," he said; "you would like to increase the
prosperity of our valley; but with your cursed innovations you put the
cart before the horse. You will never improve the labourer's condition
by depriving him of his means of subsistence."
"These machines will not deprive the labourer of his work. On the
contrary, they will give him an opportunity of working more effectually
than has been possible for him hitherto. A more thorough cultivation of
our fields and vineyards will create a fresh demand of labour, which
will be better paid than ever."
"Dreams, dreams, in which I have no faith," replied the Captain. "The
manufacturers of these machines and the people who sell them have
started these tales. When a machine undertakes the labour hitherto
performed by man, the man sinks to the machine's level. In all great
manufacturing towns the labouring class, with very few exceptions, is
poverty-stricken and starving. Don't tell me of such innovations. We
should count ourselves happy that here in the country we have hitherto
been free from machinery."
"Nevertheless, perhaps because of this, our labourers here suffer the
bitterest poverty."
"That is because the last few years have been poor ones. If the
peasant's harvest fails and the vineyards do not flourish, the labourer
can earn nothing. Your machines cannot improve his condition; they can
only make it worse. The Herr Professor has given me an idea of what
would improve the condition of our people here more than ought else."
I gazed at the Captain in surprise. I did not remember that I had ever
said a word to him about the poverty of the labouring class in the
Luttach valley, or had ever mentioned any means whatever of improving
their condition. He nodded to me with a gentle smile, and then
continued:
"Yes, yes, Herr Professor, you do not recall how on the very first
morning after your arrival among us we had a conversation which I
remember well. Our valley should be opened to tourists; we are situated
just between two important railways, not more than a league distant
from each; we could be visited with the greatest facility, and where
tourists are gathered together money is sure to circulate; all will be
the gainers; the inns, the tradesfolk, those owning horses, who will
hire out carriages; the laundresses, and even the labourers, who will
be employed either as drivers or as guides for excursions among the
mountains."
"What talk is this, old friend?" the Burgomaster interrupted him with a
laugh. "What have we here to attract tourists? They can make the ascent
of Nanos very easily from Prayvalt, and our valley has really nothing
more to show. It is quite wonderful that a naturalist, our Herr
Professor, should have visited us. Certainly none of those who travel
for pleasure would ever contemplate coming hither."
"Therefore we must try to find something that will attract them. The
Herr Professor called my attention to the fact that we live on from day
to day without regard to our ignorance as to whether we do not possess
a greater attraction for travellers than the Adelsberg Grotto. Does any
one of us here present know how extensive are the caves which we
possess, and whether they may not perhaps be finer than the grotto at
Adelsberg? The only one among us who has interested himself about them
is, if I do not mistake, Franz Schorn, and he has done very little in
the way of exploration. How is it, Franz; am I not right?"
"It is true that I have done very little in the way of exploration. I
penetrated furthest into the cave in the grove of the Rusina. It is a
laborious piece of work. I lost all desire to penetrate further; it
seemed useless."
"The Herr Professor thinks differently. Do you still desire to attempt
to explore one of these caves, Herr Professor? I was anxious to offer
you my assistance in so doing some time ago, but this horrible murder
has occupied our minds to the exclusion of every other thought."
The Captain's proposal was very welcome to me. In my excursion on the
forenoon of this very day I had gazed with much interest in the grove
of the Rusina, at the dark opening among gigantic blocks of granite. I
had an intense desire to explore it, but prudence called a halt.
Overheated as I was in climbing about the mountains, I would not expose
myself to the danger to which the cold, damp interior of the cave would
expose me, and, besides, it would have been very foolish to attempt any
exploration without companions, for the slightest slip might prove
fatal. No one would ever have looked for me in the cave; if not killed,
I might have starved before I was discovered.
Such considerations at the time forbade gratifying my desire to explore
the cave, but it awoke again within me at the Captain's offer; it
pleased me that it should be so entirely voluntary. I thanked him and
declared that I would gladly take part in an exploration of the cave
whenever he should arrange it.
"Bravo! Then let us set to work early tomorrow morning and begin with
the cave in the grove of the Rusina. You will join us, Franz!"
"Gladly. I only fear that we shall not get far. There is a deep abyss
not many yards from the entrance."
"How deep is it!"
"I do not know. I threw a lighted match into it, but it was quickly
extinguished; and a stone which I cast down soon struck some rock and I
could not see where it lay. I took no pains to explore further."
"Then we will try to do so to-morrow. Let us take with us a couple of
sturdy fellows, who can carry torches, some lanterns and a sufficient
length of strong rope, with perhaps a ladder or two. I will take with
me some magnesium wire, which will give us a brilliant light in the
depths."
Franz agreed. We discussed the interesting expedition further, and
decided that we would start at seven o'clock the next morning.
"May I make one of your party?" the Judge asked, when we had completed
our arrangements. Franz Schorn started and regarded the speaker with a
searching glance. Evidently he was about to refuse decidedly, but
thought better of it, bit his lip, and, with a slight gesture of his
hand, referred the matter to me. I cannot say that the proposal was
agreeable to me. I was surprised that the Judge should be willing to
take part in an expedition to which Franz Schorn was, to a certain
degree, the guide. I feared some unpleasant encounter between the two
men and I should have liked to refuse. This, however, courtesy forbade.
The Judge had always been so amiable and obliging in his behaviour to
me that it was impossible for me to decline his company.
He noticed that I hesitated a moment, and, probably guessing whence
such hesitation proceeded, continued with a smiling look at Franz
Schorn:
"I am very much interested in our Ukraine caves, and I have already
visited a number of them. The cave in the grove of the Rusina is not
unfamiliar to me. I have not explored it to the extent of which Herr
Schorn tells us, but I am familiar with the entrance and would like to
penetrate its depths. Of course, I voluntarily acquiesce in the
intelligent guidance of Herr Schorn, who will take command of our
expedition. You would oblige me very much, Herr Professor, by your
permission to accompany you."
I could not but accord it. It was impossible to do otherwise. The Judge
thanked me, as he did Schorn and the Captain, so courteously that I was
half inclined to suspect his sincerity. The prospect of this expedition
seemed to delight him. He suddenly became talkative and showed an
uncommon amiability to Schorn, although the young man met his advances
with monosyllabic replies. His attempt to make himself acceptable to
him was not happy; his cheerfulness seemed forced; his friendliness
assumed; his gaiety feverish. In his usual attitude at the table,
looking gloomily into his wineglass, he impressed me very unfavourably,
but to-day, when he was talkative and gay, I was still more
unfavourably impressed.
I had a very strange feeling with regard to the Judge. I could not but
acknowledge that he was a good, honourable man. He had shown this
abundantly; but I felt a vague, instinctive aversion to him, which,
however I struggled against it, increased the more I knew him.
I was uncomfortable in his society that evening; therefore I rose from
my place earlier than usual and called Mizka to light me to my room. To
my surprise, the Judge followed my example, although he had just
ordered another measure of wine.
"I will go with you, Herr Professor," he said, and he accompanied me
without drinking his wine. "To-morrow, then, at seven o'clock, Herr
Schorn."
As he spoke he offered his hand to Schorn, but the young man ignored
it.
"It is to the Herr Professor or to the Captain that you owe permission
to accompany us," Schorn said, with cool contempt. "I have not agreed
to it. You and I have nothing in common."
"Perhaps you are wrong, Herr Schorn. I may convince you of this
to-morrow. I willingly submit myself to your guidance. Good-night."
His features wore a detestable sneer as he uttered these words, and,
bowing to the rest of the company, he followed me.
Upstairs on the landing I would have bidden him good-night, but he
said:
"I followed you, Herr Professor, because I want to speak a few words
with you alone. Allow me to go into your room with you. I'll not detain
you long."
Of course I invited him to enter and to take a place on the old
straight-backed sofa, curious to learn what he could have to say to me.
When Mizka, after having lighted the candles, left the room, he sprang
up, went to the door and opened it to convince himself that she was not
listening, and then opened the door leading to the adjoining room to
make sure that no one was there. Then he returned to me, and in a voice
trembling with agitation said:
"I pray you, Herr Professor, to give me at once, now, your report of
meeting Franz Schorn in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House."
I was startled. I had not expected this demand. Surprise made me
speechless for a moment. I could only ejaculate "Herr Foligno!"
"I understand your surprise, your dismay," he continued. "Believe me,
it has cost me a struggle to resolve to make this request, but it must
be. I may have neglected my duty in postponing it so long. Now, when my
suspicions have become almost a certainty, I can wait no longer. I am
compelled to collect all the grounds for it that I possess, and among
them belongs your meeting with him near the Lonely House. The paper
must be sent to the Attorney General at Laibach. It must be, Herr
Professor; you cannot refuse me. Every man of honour is bound to
support the authorities in the investigation of crime. You could not
wish to shield a criminal from the rigour of the law."
"Most certainly not; but I am more than firmly convinced that Franz
Schorn is no murderer. You yourself, scarcely an hour ago, admitted the
proofs of his innocence adduced by the doctor."
"Did you not perceive that my words were ironical? I was obliged to
change the subject of the conversation. Franz Schorn must not be warned
by his friends. He must believe himself safe from discovery, or he will
betake himself to flight, for which the money gained by his crime gives
him abundant opportunity. Trieste is not far off, and a guide thither
is quickly found. I was obliged to conceal from him the knowledge that
I have discovered his crime. I put force upon myself to control my
abhorrence of him. This very night I must complete the full report
showing forth all the evidence against him, and in this I must include
your meeting with him near the Lonely House. An official will take the
paper to Laibach and deliver it in person; then the Attorney General
must decide whether the evidence it contains be sufficient to warrant
Schorn's arrest. I am myself perfectly convinced of his guilt. I ought
perhaps to arrest him on my own responsibility, but I will not expose
myself to the reproach of acting from personal hostility. I shall watch
him narrowly to prevent his flight, and therefore I begged to be
allowed to join your cave exploration. His arrest I will leave to the
Attorney General in Laibach. Thus I have explained to you frankly the
grounds for my action, and I pray you to give me the report for the
protocol, which you promised me a week ago. This report should consist,
in order to save yourself and myself unpleasant after inquiries, of the
declaration that to your meeting with Schorn you attached no importance
in the beginning, but since you have learned that the voice of the
people pronounce him the murderer you hold it to be your duty to
mention seeing him in the forest. You might add that you hold this
meeting to be of no importance and that you are most unwilling to
arouse a suspicion of the young man, but that, nevertheless, you feel
it your duty to tell of your encounter with him. I think such a report
cannot outrage your sense of justice."
"It does not accord with my sense of justice to admit a suspicion which
I think false. If I make my report now, it will look as though I shared
this suspicion. The Attorney General would so interpret it, even though
I declared the contrary. I ought to have made the report immediately
after the discovery of the murder. You prevented my doing so then, and
now I will not make it until I see at least the possibility of other
grounds for it."
"It is the duty of the Attorney General, not yourself, to judge of the
importance of your evidence," Herr Foligno replied sternly. "It is the
duty of the private individual to impart to the proper authorities
every circumstance that may be connected with a crime. Of course you
know that."
"It is not his duty," I said angrily, "if his inmost conviction is that
the circumstance he relates has no connection whatever with the crime,
although it may serve to arouse suspicion. If what you maintain be
correct, I ought also to advise the Attorney General that you yourself
were in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House on that morning and that
I found your pocket handkerchief where you had been plucking _Ophrys
Bertolini_."
Herr Foligno shot such a look of rage at me from beneath his black
brows that I started in terror. I had no idea of affecting him so
deeply by my words. In a voice trembling with anger, which he vainly
strove to control, he said:
"Then you would tell the Attorney General a falsehood. I have told you
that I did not pluck the flowers in the neighbourhood of the Lonely
House, but at a great distance from it, and in a spot difficult to
find, and that my handkerchief was by accident where you picked it up.
Is it possible that you do not believe me, although I have told you all
this distinctly?"
He probably read in my face that I was not convinced of the truth of
this statement, for he continued in a sharp, angry tone:
"You doubt, in spite of my words. Perhaps you entertain the possibility
of my having some connection with the crime----"
"What folly, Herr Foligno!" I cried, interrupting him. "I mentioned you
and your pocket handkerchief only to contradict your assertion that it
was my duty to tell of an insignificant experience. If I ought to
report having seen Franz Schorn near the Lonely House, I also ought to
report the finding of your handkerchief under the same circumstances."
"If you really consider this your duty, I shall not gainsay you," he
replied darkly, not lifting his eyes from the ground. "It is no affair
of mine. My task is to send this very night my deposition, containing
an account of your meeting with Franz Schorn, to the proper authorities
either with or against your consent. I may find myself in a very
unpleasant position and even imperil my office when I relate that I
myself advised you to withhold your report concerning Schorn, but
personal considerations must yield to my sense of duty. I had thought,
Herr Professor," he continued, in a more friendly tone, finding me
still silent, "that you would not willingly thus embarrass me. Believe
me, I would not so insist upon your evidence were I not thoroughly and
firmly convinced of the young man's guilt. To show you how highly I
esteem you, what implicit confidence I place in your honour and
silence, I will tell you, although scarcely warranted in so doing, of
the results of my laborious investigations during the last few weeks.
You yourself will then be convinced of your duty. It is a hard task for
me to make these revelations to you, for not only do they militate
against Franz Schorn, but against one who has been very dear to my
heart, and for whom to-day, in spite of my better judgment, I feel warm
affection; but it must be; you shall hear all."
"Proceed; you may rely upon my discretion."
I waited for what he had to say with intense eagerness. For a few
moments he sat silent, with downcast looks; then he began, not once
looking at me as he spoke:
"It is difficult to indicate the precise moment at which suspicions of
Schorn were aroused within me. You yourself know of his bitter enmity
towards old Pollenz, whose death he could not but desire, since it
alone would bring him the fulfilment of his dearest wish. You know of
his being near the Lonely House immediately after the murder. You know
also of the wound in his hand, to account for which he told of having
grasped a double-edged knife as it fell from where he had left it. His
reluctance to show the wound to the doctor, and, more than all else,
his sudden accession of wealth after the crime, accuses him loudly. He
has made purchases which would have been impossible with his own
unassisted means. All these grounds of suspicion the doctor thought to
annihilate by his acute reasoning, showing that old Pollenz himself
could not possibly have admitted Schorn and that the murderer had
evidently entered the house without any violent breaking in of the
door. How is this to be accounted for? Unfortunately, the explanation
is only too clear. Fraeulein Anna Pollenz, when officially examined, as
well as in her words to the Captain and to the doctor, portrayed a life
in her father's house absolutely opposed to reality. She maintained
that her father loved her most tenderly; that he was always kind and
gentle to her, and that even her connection with the hated Schorn and
her refusal to give me her hand had produced no change in his demeanour
toward her. Anna's words were universally believed. Who could doubt who
looked into her eyes and acknowledged their spell? To see her is to
love her. She wins all hearts at once. Every one believes her; every
one trusts her; and nevertheless every word that she spoke is false.
For years the Lonely House has witnessed terrible scenes between father
and daughter. The old man abused the lovely child outrageously because
she would not obey him. Unfortunately I myself was often the cause of
this abuse, although I declared continually to old Pollenz that I never
would claim Anna's hand unless she bestowed it upon me voluntarily;
unless I succeeded in winning the young girl's love. The old fellow was
a rough, heartless, violent man; a coward to those stronger than
himself, brutal to those who were weaker. He locked his daughter up; he
half starved her; he beat her so that she escaped from him bleeding.
For years he never spoke a kind word to her. He had unbounded
confidence in me; he even angrily complained to me of her disobedience.
I myself have witnessed frightful scenes, and on several occasions
prevented him with all my physical strength from maltreating the
beautiful, unfortunate child in my presence."
"Frightful!" I exclaimed. The dreadful picture which the narrator
unfolded before me filled me with horror.
"Beside myself, there is one other human being who is aware of the
family life in the Lonely House. Old Johanna was a witness of the
maltreatment which the unhappy girl suffered daily in our presence; in
the presence of others the old man assumed a kind, mild demeanour
toward his child; old Johanna suffered almost as much as Anna from the
brutality of her master. She would long ago have left him if she had
not been detained by tender affection for her mistress. After what you
have just heard you may judge with what amazement I was filled upon
learning after the death of old Pollenz that Anna had described her
relations with her father as happy, peaceful, and loving, and that old
Johanna in the final examination, had confirmed all that Anna said. I
pondered long to discover what grounds Anna could have for such a false
representation of the actual circumstances and why she should suddenly
develop such inconceivable hatred for me, who had so often protected
her from ill treatment. When at last I suspected the true cause I found
it difficult of belief. I alone can expose the tissue of lies which she
has woven around herself. I alone cannot be won over to testify to her
truth, as she has won over old Johanna, who would perjure herself
willingly for her darling, and Anna needs such falsehoods. It is almost
impossible to believe that the daughter, driven to madness and despair
by daily ill treatment, herself opened the locked doors for her lover.
Spare me further words, Herr Professor. My reason becomes confused when
I reflect on a deed so horrible. Ever since this solution became clear
to me, sleep is banished. I toss restlessly throughout the night. My
thoughts dwell perpetually in the Lonely House. At times I have feared
that I should become insane. The struggle raging within me during these
last few days is indescribable. I loved Anna with all my heart. I love
her still, and, although it is madness, I shall love her to my last
breath. Neither her crime nor the hatred which she displays towards me
can kill this insane love within me, and fate has ordained that I
should be the inexorable judge, the dread accuser of her lover, in
ruining whom I ruin her also; but I must do my duty, let my heart bleed
as it may."
He had finished. The narrative had agitated him fearfully; he trembled
in every limb; his eyes glowed as with fever. I was scarcely less moved
than he. His words had torn the veil from my eyes; I could now see the
fearful scenes in the Lonely House clearly, and how they had led to the
final deed. I was ineffably sad. Great as was my detestation of the
horrible crime, I could not but pity deeply the unfortunate child whom
despair had maddened. Detestation, horror and pity by turns filled my
heart. I could put myself in the place of the unhappy man who had just
revealed to me his innermost soul.
How long we confronted each other in silence I cannot say. We were both
too deeply moved to give expression in words to our feelings. Herr
Foligno recovered himself first. His voice no longer trembled as he
asked, after a long pause:
"Will you now sign the report which I will write out for you?"
"Yes."
I brought him paper, pen and ink. He quickly took down the evidence I
had to give, as he had before required that I should give it, and then
read aloud what he had written. I had no objection to offer, and signed
it.
He arose and held out his hand in farewell.
"I have another terrible night before me," he said. "To-morrow a
messenger must take this early to Laibach, and a hard day will follow a
weary night for both of us. It will not be easy for you, Herr
Professor, to make one to-morrow of Franz Schorn's party to the cave
without allowing him to perceive your detestation of him."
"I cannot; I shall excuse myself on the plea of illness."
"No, Herr Professor, you must not do this. Schorn will surely learn
through Mizka that I came with you to your room; he might suspect
something. A criminal of his calibre is on the watch for the merest
trifle which can arouse suspicion of his discovery. You, too, Herr
Professor, have a hard duty to perform, but it must be done. You must
be one of the party, as I shall be. Neither the Captain nor Schorn must
dream of what the near future will bring forth. I trust to your honour,
and I know that I do not trust in vain."
"You may rely upon me; I will control myself."
With another pressure of the hand we separated.