Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-09-23
CHAPTER III.

had wanted to know exactly what my
mysterious neighbor did. Now I knew.
Now his desultory mode of life was ex-
planned, his absences, the late hours at
which he returned, his sudden disap-
pearances, his young wife's fears, the
wound had dressed.
But of what use was my discovery?
/ had gradually recovered my senses,
the power of rejecting and celebrating
had returned, and Iscrutinized everything
around me with eager curiosity.
From the place where l stood leaning
against the door, I could survey the whole
apartment. .-~
Nothing, literally nothing, betrayed the
scene of a murder.
Everything, on the contrary, revealed
comfort, but at the same time parsimon-
ious and methodical habits. Everything
was in its place; there was not a fold
awry in the curtains, and the frames of
the furniture glittered, implying daily
polishing. Besides, it seemed evident
that the suggestions of the magistrate
and commissary of police were correct,
and the poor old man had been assassi-
mated the evening before, just as he was
preparing to go to bed.
In fact, the bedclothes were turned
back, and on the quilt lay a shirt and
nightcap. On the table at the head of the
bed 1 saw a glass of sugar and water, a
box of matches, and an evening paper
the PGtrie.
On one corner of the mantelpieee gilt
tered candlestick-a large solid copper
candlestick. But the candle that had
illuminated the crime was consumed, the
murderer had fled without blowing it
out, and it had burned down, blackening
the alabaster save-all on which it was
fastened.
These details had perceived at once,
without effort, without, so to speak, any
exertion of my will,
My eye performed the part of a photo
graphic object-glass, the scene of the
murder was fixed on my mind as if on
prepared plate, with such precision that
no circumstance was omitted, with
such permanence that even now 1 could
draw the chamber occupied by tho
'little old man of the Batignolles"
without forgetting anything, without
emitting even a cork half covered with
green wax, which 1 can still see on the
floor, under the clerks chair.
The faculty of investigation, which has
been bestowed upon me, is very extra
ordinary one 1 had never before had oc
casion to exert it, but it suddenly revealed
itself.
At that time / was far too deeply agita.
ted to be able to analyze my impressions
/ had but one obstinate, burning, irresis
tible desire-to approach the corpse, ly
ing two yards away from me.
At first struggled against this wish
But there was a fatality about it. l APP
preached.
Had my presence been noticedP Ithinh
not.
At any rate, nobody was paying any at
tention to me.
NJ. Mechinet and the police officer were
still talking together near the window.
the clerk was reading in low tone his
report to the magistrate.
So there was nothing to prevent the &C
complishment of my plan.
Besides, Unjust confess, a sort of feverish
eagerness had taken possession of me,
which made me insensible to external cir
cumStances and utterly isolated me.
Iventured to kneel down by the body,
to see it better and more closely.
Far from thinking somebody was going
to exclaim: "What are you doing here?"
moved slowly and steadily, like man
who, having received a mission, is going
to execute it.
The unfortunate old man seemed to be
about seventy or seventy-five years old
He was small and very thin, but had evi
IDENTIFY been strong, and likely to live tC
be a hundred. He still had great deal
of hair, of a yellowish white color, curled
on the back of his neck, His gray beard
strong and thick set, did not seem to have
been shaved for five or six days; it must
have grown since his death. This cir
cumstance, which 1 had often noticed
among subjects brought to the hospital
| for dissection, caused me no surprise.
What did astonish me was the unfor
tunate mans face. 1t was calm, nay
smiling.
The lips were parted as if for a friendly
greeting.
Death had been terribly sudden, since
he had kept that pleasant expression.
This was the first idea that presented
itself to the mind.
Yes, but how could I reconcile thest
two irreconcilable circumstances: a sud
den death, and the five letters-MontS-
which I saw in characters of blood upoI
the floor?
What effort must it not have cost thu
dying man to write that! Only the hop
of vengeance could have given him sucl
energy. And what must have been hi
rage to feel himself dying, ere he coulC
trace the whole name of his assassin
Yet the face of the corpse seemed t.
smile at me.
The poor old man had been struck il
the throat, and the weapon had cut tn
neck from ear to ear.
The instrument of the crime must hav,
been a poniard, or rather one of those ter
rible Catalonian knives, as wide as tn
hand, which cut on both sides and are a
sharpas needle.
Never in my life have I experiences
sensations SO singular.
My temples throbbed with unprece
denied violence, and my heart swelled a
if it would burst.
What was going to discover?
Urged on by a mysterious and IRE
sistible power which annihilated m
will. I took between my own hand