The Murders in the Rue Morgue
by Edgar Allan Poe
Our first
meeting was at an obscure library in the Rue Montmartre, where the accident of
our both being in search of the same very rare and very remarkable volume,
brought us into closer communion. We saw each other again and again. I was
deeply interested in the little family history which he detailed to me with all
that candor which a Frenchman indulges whenever mere self is his theme. I was
astonished, too, at the vast extent of his reading; and, above all, I felt my
soul enkindled within me by the wild fervor, and the vivid freshness of his
imagination. Seeking in Paris
the objects I then sought, I felt that the society of such a man would be to me
a treasure beyond price; and this feeling I frankly confided to him. It was at
length arranged that we should live together during my stay in the city; and as
my worldly circumstances were somewhat less embarrassed than his own, I was
permitted to be at the expense of renting, and furnishing in a style which
suited the rather fantastic gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and
grotesque mansion, long deserted through superstitions into which we did not
inquire, and tottering to its fall in a retired and desolate portion of the
Faubourg St. Germain.
Had the
routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been
regarded as madmen although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature. Our
seclusion was perfect. We admitted no visitors. Indeed the locality of our
retirement had been carefully kept a secret from my own former associates; and
it had been many years since Dupin had ceased to know or be known in Paris . We existed within
ourselves alone.
It was a
freak of fancy in my friend (for what else shall I call it?) to be enamored of
the Night for her own sake; and into this bizarrerie, as into all his others, I
quietly fell; giving myself up to his wild whims with a perfect abandon. The
sable divinity would not herself dwell with us always; but we could counterfeit
her presence. At the first dawn of the morning we closed all the messy shutters
of our old building; lighting a couple of tapers which, strongly perfumed,
threw out only the ghastliest and feeblest of rays. By the aid of these we then
busied our souls in dreams reading, writing, or conversing, until warned by the
clock of the advent of the true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into the
streets, arm in arm, continuing the topics of the day, or roaming far and wide
until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of the populous
city, that infinity of mental excitement which quiet observation can afford.
At such
times I could not help remarking and admiring (although from his rich ideality
I had been prepared to expect it) a peculiar analytic ability in Dupin. He
seemed, too, to take an eager delight in its exercise if not exactly in its
display and did not hesitate to confess the pleasure thus derived. He boasted to
me, with a low chuckling laugh, that most men, in respect to himself, wore
windows in their bosoms, and was wont to follow up such assertions by direct
and very startling proofs of his intimate knowledge of my own. His manner at
these moments was frigid and abstract; his eyes were vacant in expression;
while his voice, usually a rich tenor, rose into a treble which would have
sounded petulantly but for the deliberateness and entire distinctness of the
enunciation. Observing him in these moods, I often dwelt meditatively upon the
old philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with the fancy of a
double Dupin the creative and the resolvent.
Let it not
be supposed, from what I have just said, that I am detailing any mystery, or
penning any romance. What I have described in the Frenchman, was merely the
result of an excited, or perhaps of a diseased intelligence. But of the
character of his remarks at the periods in question an example will best convey
the idea.
We were
strolling one night down a long dirty street, in the vicinity of the Palais
Royal. Being both, apparently, occupied with thought, neither of us had spoken
a syllable for fifteen minutes at least. All at once Dupin broke forth with
these words:
"He is
a very little fellow, that's true, and would do better for the Thtre des
Varits."
"There
can be no doubt of that," I replied unwittingly, and not at first
observing (so much had I been absorbed in reflection) the extraordinary manner
in which the speaker had chimed in with my meditations. In an instant afterward
I recollected myself, and my astonishment was profound.
"Dupin,"
said I, gravely, "this is beyond my comprehension. I do not hesitate to
say that I am amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses. How was it possible
you should know I was thinking of ?" Here I paused, to ascertain beyond a
doubt whether he really knew of whom I thought.
"of Chantilly ," said he, "why do you pause? You
were remarking to yourself that his diminutive figure unfitted him for
tragedy." This was precisely what had formed the subject of my
reflections. Chantilly was a quondam cobbler
of the Rue St. Denis, who, becoming stage-mad, had attempted the rle of Xerxes,
in Crbillon's tragedy so called, and been notoriously Pasquinaded for his
pains.
"Tell
me, for Heaven's sake," I exclaimed, "the method if method there is
by which you have been enabled to fathom my soul in this matter." In fact
I was even more startled than I would have been willing to express.
"It
was the fruiterer," replied my friend, "who brought you to the
conclusion that the mender of soles was not of sufficient height for Xerxes et
id genus omne."
"The
fruiterer! you astonish me I know no fruiterer whomsoever."
"The
man who ran up against you as we entered the street it may have been fifteen
minutes ago."
I now
remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carrying upon his head a large basket of
apples, had nearly thrown me down, by accident, as we passed from the Rue C
into the thoroughfare where we stood; but what this had to do with Chantilly I could not possibly understand.
There was
not a particle of charltanerie about Dupin. "I will explain," he
said, "and that you may comprehend all clearly, we will first retrace the
course of your meditations, from the moment in which I spoke to you until that
of the rencontre with the fruiterer in question. The larger links of the chain
run thus Chantilly , Orion, Dr. Nichols,
Epicurus, Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruiterer."
There are
few persons who have not, at some period of their lives, amused themselves in retracing
the steps by which particular conclusions of their own minds have been
attained. The occupation is often full of interest; and he who attempts it for
the first time is astonished by the apparently illimitable distance and
incoherence between the starting-point and the goal. What, then, must have been
my amazement when I heard the Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, and when
I could not help acknowledging that he had spoken the truth. He continued:
"We
had been talking of horses, if I remember aright, just before leaving the Rue
C. This was the last subject we discussed. As we crossed into this street, a
fruiterer, with a large basket upon his head, brushing quickly past us, thrust
you upon a pile of paving-stones collected at a spot where the causeway is
undergoing repair. You stepped upon one of the loose fragments, slipped,
slightly strained your ankle, appeared vexed or sulky, muttered a few words,
turned to look at the pile, and then proceeded in silence. I was not
particularly attentive to what you did; but observation has become with me, of
late, a species of necessity.
"You
kept your eyes upon the ground glancing, with a petulant expression, at the
holes and ruts in the pavement, (so that I saw you were still thinking of the
stones,) until we reached the little alley called Lamartine, which has been
paved, by way of experiment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks. Here your
countenance brightened up, and, perceiving your lips move, I could not doubt
that you murmured the word 'stereotomy,' a term very affectedly applied to this
species of pavement. I knew that you could not say to yourself 'stereotomy'
without being brought to think of atomies, and thus of the theories of
Epicurus; and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I
mentioned to you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guesses
of that noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, I
felt that you could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great nebula in
Orion, and I certainly expected that you would do so. You did look up; and I
was now assured that I had correctly followed your steps. But in that bitter
tirade upon Chantilly, which appeared in yesterday's 'Muse,' the satirist,
making some disgraceful allusions to the cobbler's change of name upon assuming
the buskin, quoted a Latin line about which we have often conversed. I mean the
line
Perdidit
antiquum litera prima sonum
I had told
you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly written Urion; and, from
certain pungencies connected with this explanation, I was aware that you could
not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, that you would not fail to
combine the two ideas of Orion and Chantilly .
That you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile which passed over
your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler's immolation. So far, you had been
stooping in your gait; but now I saw you draw yourself up to your full height.
I was then sure that you reflected upon the diminutive figure of Chantilly . At this point I interrupted your meditations
to remark that as, in fact, he was a very little fellow that Chantilly
he would do better at the Thtre des Varits."
Not long
after this, we were looking over an evening edition of the "Gazette des
Tribunaux," when the following paragraphs arrested our attention.
"EXTRAORDINARY
MURDERS. This morning, about three o'clock, the inhabitants of the Quartier St.
Roch were aroused from sleep by a succession of terrific shrieks, issuing,
apparently, from the fourth story of a house in the Rue Morgue, known to be in
the sole occupancy of one Madame L'Espanaye, and her daughter, Mademoiselle
Camille L'Espanaye. After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to
procure admission in the usual manner, the gateway was broken in with a
crowbar, and eight or ten of the neighbors entered, accompanied by two
gendarmes. By this time the cries had ceased; but, as the party rushed up the
first flight of stairs, two or more rough voices, in angry contention, were
distinguished, and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house. As the
second landing was reached, these sounds, also, had ceased, and everything
remained perfectly quiet. The party spread themselves, and hurried from room to
room. Upon arriving at a large back chamber in the fourth story, (the door of
which, being found locked, with the key inside, was forced open,) a spectacle
presented itself which struck every one present not less with horror than with
astonishment.
"The
apartment was in the wildest disorder the furniture broken and thrown about in
all directions. There was only one bedstead; and from this the bed had been
removed, and thrown into the middle of the floor. On a chair lay a razor,
besmeared with blood. On the hearth were two or three long and thick tresses of
grey human hair, also dabbled in blood, and seeming to have been pulled out by
the roots. Upon the floor were found four Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz,
three large silver spoons, three smaller of mtal d'Alger, and two bags,
containing nearly four thousand francs in gold. The drawers of a bureau, which
stood in one corner, were open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although many
articles still remained in them. A small iron safe was discovered under the bed
(not under the bedstead). It was open, with the key still in the door. It had
no contents beyond a few old letters, and other papers of little consequence.
"Of
Madame L'Espanaye no traces were here seen; but an unusual quantity of soot
being observed in the fire-place, a search was made in the chimney, and
(horrible to relate!) the corpse of the daughter, head downward, was dragged
therefrom; it having been thus forced up the narrow aperture for a considerable
distance. The body was quite warm. Upon examining it, many excoriations were
perceived, no doubt occasioned by the violence with which it had been thrust up
and disengaged. Upon the face were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat,
dark bruises, and deep indentations of finger nails, as if the deceased had
been throttled to death.
"After
a thorough investigation of every portion of the house, without farther
discovery, the party made its way into a small paved yard in the rear of the
building, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her throat so entirely cut
that, upon an attempt to raise her, the head fell off. The body, as well as the
head, was fearfully mutilated the former so much so as scarcely to retain any
semblance of humanity.
"To
this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we believe, the slightest
clew."
The next
day's paper had these additional particulars.
"The
Tragedy in the Rue Morgue. Many individuals have been examined in relation to
this most extraordinary and frightful affair." [The word 'affaire' has not
yet, in France ,
that levity of import which it conveys with us,] "but nothing whatever has
transpired to throw light upon it. We give below all the material testimony
elicited.
"Pauline
Dubourg, laundress, deposes that she has known both the deceased for three
years, having washed for them during that period. The old lady and her daughter
seemed on good terms very affectionate towards each other. They were excellent
pay. Could not speak in regard to their mode or means of living. Believed that
Madame L. told fortunes for a living. Was reputed to have money put by. Never met
any persons in the house when she called for the clothes or took them home. Was
sure that they had no servant in employ. There appeared to be no furniture in
any part of the building except in the fourth story.
"Pierre
Moreau, tobacconist, deposes that he has been in the habit of selling small
quantities of tobacco and snuff to Madame L'Espanaye for nearly four years. Was
born in the neighborhood, and has always resided there. The deceased and her
daughter had occupied the house in which the corpses were found, for more than
six years. It was formerly occupied by a jeweller, who under-let the upper
rooms to various persons. The house was the property of Madame L. She became
dissatisfied with the abuse of the premises by her tenant, and moved into them
herself, refusing to let any portion. The old lady was childish. Witness had
seen the daughter some five or six times during the six years. The two lived an
exceedingly retired life were reputed to have money. Had heard it said among
the neighbors that Madame L. told fortunes did not believe it. Had never seen
any person enter the door except the old lady and her daughter, a porter once
or twice, and a physician some eight or ten times.
"Many
other persons, neighbors, gave evidence to the same effect. No one was spoken
of as frequenting the house. It was not known whether there were any living
connexions of Madame L. and her daughter. The shutters of the front windows
were seldom opened. Those in the rear were always closed, with the exception of
the large back room, fourth story. The house was a good house not very old.
"Isidore
Must, gendarme, deposes that he was called to the house about three o'clock in
the morning, and found some twenty or thirty persons at the gateway,
endeavoring to gain admittance. Forced it open, at length, with a bayonet not
with a crowbar. Had but little difficulty in getting it open, on account of its
being a double or folding gate, and bolted neither at bottom nor top. The
shrieks were continued until the gate was forced and then suddenly ceased. They
seemed to be screams of some person (or persons) in great agony were loud and
drawn out, not short and quick. Witness led the way up stairs. Upon reaching
the first landing, heard two voices in loud and angry contention the one a
gruff voice, the other much shriller a very strange voice. Could distinguish
some words of the former, which was that of a Frenchman. Was positive that it
was not a woman's voice. Could distinguish the words 'sacr' and 'diable.' The
shrill voice was that of a foreigner. Could not be sure whether it was the
voice of a man or of a woman. Could not make out what was said, but believed
the language to be Spanish. The state of the room and of the bodies was
described by this witness as we described them yesterday.
"Henri
Duval, a neighbor, and by trade a silver-smith, deposes that he was one of the
party who first entered the house. Corroborates the testimony of Must in
general. As soon as they forced an entrance, they reclosed the door, to keep
out the crowd, which collected very fast, notwithstanding the lateness of the
hour. The shrill voice, this witness thinks, was that of an Italian. Was
certain it was not French. Could not be sure that it was a man's voice. It
might have been a woman's. Was not acquainted with the Italian language. Could
not distinguish the words, but was convinced by the intonation that the speaker
was an Italian. Knew Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with both
frequently. Was sure that the shrill voice was not that of either of the deceased.
"
Odenheimer, restaurateur. This witness volunteered his testimony. Not speaking
French, was examined through an interpreter. Is a native of Amsterdam . Was passing the house at the time
of the shrieks. They lasted for several minutes probably ten. They were long
and loud very awful and distressing. Was one of those who entered the building.
Corroborated the previous evidence in every respect but one. Was sure that the
shrill voice was that of a man of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish the words
uttered. They were loud and quick unequal spoken apparently in fear as well as
in anger. The voice was harsh not so much shrill as harsh. Could not call it a
shrill voice. The gruff voice said repeatedly 'sacr,' 'diable,' and once 'mon
Dieu.'
"Jules
Mignaud, banker, of the firm of Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine. Is the elder
Mignaud. Madame L'Espanaye had some property. Had opened an account with his
banking house in the spring of the year (eight years previously). Made frequent
deposits in small sums. Had checked for nothing until the third day before her
death, when she took out in person the sum of 4000 francs. This sum was paid in
gold, and a clerk went home with the money.
"Adolphe
Le Bon, clerk to Mignaud et Fils, deposes that on the day in question, about
noon, he accompanied Madame L'Espanaye to her residence with the 4000 francs,
put up in two bags. Upon the door being opened, Mademoiselle L. appeared and
took from his hands one of the bags, while the old lady relieved him of the
other. He then bowed and departed. Did not see any person in the street at the
time. It is a bye-street very lonely.
"William
Bird, tailor deposes that he was one of the party who entered the house. Is an
Englishman. Has lived in Paris
two years. Was one of the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in
contention. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could make out several
words, but cannot now remember all. Heard distinctly 'sacr' and 'mon Dieu.'
There was a sound at the moment as if of several persons struggling a scraping
and scuffling sound. The shrill voice was very loud louder than the gruff one.
Is sure that it was not the voice of an Englishman. Appeared to be that of a
German. Might have been a woman's voice. Does not understand German.
"Four
of the above-named witnesses, being recalled, deposed that the door of the
chamber in which was found the body of Mademoiselle L. was locked on the inside
when the party reached it. Every thing was perfectly silent no groans or noises
of any kind. Upon forcing the door no person was seen. The windows, both of the
back and front room, were down and firmly fastened from within. A door between
the two rooms was closed, but not locked. The door leading from the front room
into the passage was locked, with the key on the inside. A small room in the
front of the house, on the fourth story, at the head of the passage, was open,
the door being ajar. This room was crowded with old beds, boxes, and so forth.
These were carefully removed and searched. There was not an inch of any portion
of the house which was not carefully searched. Sweeps were sent up and down the
chimneys. The house was a four story one, with garrets (mansardes.) A trap-door
on the roof was nailed down very securely did not appear to have been opened
for years. The time elapsing between the hearing of the voices in contention
and the breaking open of the room door, was variously stated by the witnesses.
Some made it as short as three minutes some as long as five. The door was
opened with difficulty.
"Alfonzo
Garcio, undertaker, deposes that he resides in the Rue Morgue. Is a native of Spain . Was one
of the party who entered the house. Did not proceed up stairs. Is nervous, and
was apprehensive of the consequences of agitation. Heard the voices in
contention. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish what
was said. The shrill voice was that of an Englishman is sure of this. Does not
understand the English language, but judges by the intonation.
"Alberto
Montani, confectioner, deposes that he was among the first to ascend the
stairs. Heard the voices in question. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman.
Distinguished several words. The speaker appeared to be expostulating. Could
not make out the words of the shrill voice. Spoke quick and unevenly. Thinks it
the voice of a Russian. Corroborates the general testimony. Is an Italian.
Never conversed with a native of Russia .
"Several
witnesses, recalled, here testified that the chimneys of all the rooms on the
fourth story were too narrow to admit the passage of a human being. By 'sweeps'
were meant cylindrical sweeping-brushes, such as are employed by those who
clean chimneys. These brushes were passed up and down every flue in the house.
There is no back passage by which any one could have descended while the party
proceeded up stairs. The body of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was so firmly wedged
in the chimney that it could not be got down until four or five of the party
united their strength.
"Paul
Dumas, physician, deposes that he was called to view the bodies about
day-break. They were both then lying on the sacking of the bedstead in the
chamber where Mademoiselle L. was found. The corpse of the young lady was much
bruised and excoriated. The fact that it had been thrust up the chimney would
sufficiently account for these appearances. The throat was greatly chafed.
There were several deep scratches just below the chin, together with a series
of livid spots which were evidently the impression of fingers. The face was
fearfully discolored, and the eye-balls protruded. The tongue had been
partially bitten through. A large bruise was discovered upon the pit of the
stomach, produced, apparently, by the pressure of a knee. In the opinion of M.
Dumas, Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been throttled to death by some person or persons
unknown. The corpse of the mother was horribly mutilated. All the bones of the
right leg and arm were more or less shattered. The left tibia much splintered,
as well as all the ribs of the left side. Whole body dreadfully bruised and
discolored. It was not possible to say how the injuries had been inflicted. A
heavy club of wood, or a broad bar of iron a chair any large, heavy, and obtuse
weapon would have produced such results, if wielded by the hands of a very
powerful man. No woman could have inflicted the blows with any weapon. The head
of the deceased, when seen by witness, was entirely separated from the body,
and was also greatly shattered. The throat had evidently been cut with some
very sharp instrument probably with a razor.
"Alexandre
Etienne, surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to view the bodies. Corroborated the
testimony, and the opinions of M. Dumas.
"Nothing
farther of importance was elicited, although several other persons were
examined. A murder so mysterious, and so perplexing in all its particulars, was
never before committed in Paris
if indeed a murder has been committed at all. The police are entirely at fault
an unusual occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the
shadow of a clew apparent."
The evening
edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitement still continued in the
Quartier St. Roch that the premises in question had been carefully re-searched,
and fresh examinations of witnesses instituted, but all to no purpose. A
postscript, however, mentioned that Adolphe Le Bon had been arrested and
imprisoned although nothing appeared to criminate him, beyond the facts already
detailed.
Dupin
seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair at least so I
judged from his manner, for he made no comments. It was only after the
announcement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that he asked me my opinion
respecting the murders.
I could
merely agree with all Paris
in considering them an insoluble mystery. I saw no means by which it would be
possible to trace the murderer.
"We
must not judge of the means," said Dupin, "by this shell of an
examination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for acumen, are cunning, but
no more. There is no method in their proceedings, beyond the method of the
moment. They make a vast parade of measures; but, not unfrequently, these are
so ill adapted to the objects proposed, as to put us in mind of Monsieur
Jourdain's calling for his robe-de-chambre pour mieux entendre la musique. The
results attained by them are not unfrequently surprising, but, for the most
part, are brought about by simple diligence and activity. When these qualities
are unavailing, their schemes fail. Vidocq, for example, was a good guesser,
and a persevering man. But, without educated thought, he erred continually by
the very intensity of his investigations. He impaired his vision by holding the
object too close. He might see, perhaps, one or two points with unusual
clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sight of the matter as a
whole. Thus there is such a thing as being too profound. Truth is not always in
a well. In fact, as regards the more important knowledge, I do believe that she
is invariably superficial. The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and
not upon the mountain-tops where she is found. The modes and sources of this
kind of error are well typified in the contemplation of the heavenly bodies. To
look at a star by glances to view it in a side-long way, by turning toward it
the exterior portions of the retina (more susceptible of feeble impressions of
light than the interior), is to behold the star distinctly is to have the best
appreciation of its lustre a lustre which grows dim just in proportion as we
turn our vision fully upon it. A greater number of rays actually fall upon the eye
in the latter case, but, in the former, there is the more refined capacity for
comprehension. By undue profundity we perplex and enfeeble thought; and it is
possible to make even Venus herself vanish from the firmanent by a scrutiny too
sustained, too concentrated, or too direct.
"As
for these murders, let us enter into some examinations for ourselves, before we
make up an opinion respecting them. An inquiry will afford us amusement,"
[I thought this an odd term, so applied, but said nothing] "and, besides,
Le Bon once rendered me a service for which I am not ungrateful. We will go and
see the premises with our own eyes. I know G, the Prefect of Police, and shall
have no difficulty in obtaining the necessary permission."
The
permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue Morgue. This is
one of those miserable thoroughfares which intervene between the Rue Richelieu
and the Rue St. Roch. It was late in the afternoon when we reached it; as this
quarter is at a great distance from that in which we resided. The house was
readily found; for there were still many persons gazing up at the closed
shutters, with an objectless curiosity, from the opposite side of the way. It
was an ordinary Parisian house, with a gateway, on one side of which was a glazed
watch-box, with a sliding panel in the window, indicating a loge de concierge.
Before going in we walked up the street, turned down an alley, and then, again
turning, passed in the rear of the building Dupin, meanwhile, examining the
whole neighborhood, as well as the house, with a minuteness of attention for
which I could see no possible object.
Retracing
our steps, we came again to the front of the dwelling, rang, and, having shown
our credentials, were admitted by the agents in charge. We went up stairs into
the chamber where the body of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been found, and where
both the deceased still lay. The disorders of the room had, as usual, been
suffered to exist. I saw nothing beyond what had been stated in the
"Gazette des Tribunaux." Dupin scrutinized every thing not excepting
the bodies of the victims. We then went into the other rooms, and into the
yard; a gendarme accompanying us throughout. The examination occupied us until
dark, when we took our departure. On our way home my companion stepped in for a
moment at the office of one of the daily papers.
I have said
that the whims of my friend were manifold, and that Je les mnagais: for this
phrase there is no English equivalent. It was his humor, now, to decline all
conversation on the subject of the murder, until about noon the next day. He
then asked me, suddenly, if I had observed any thing peculiar at the scene of
the atrocity.
There was
something in his manner of emphasizing the word "peculiar," which
caused me to shudder, without knowing why.
"No,
nothing peculiar," I said; "nothing more, at least, than we both saw
stated in the paper."
"The
'Gazette,' " he replied, "has not entered, I fear, into the unusual
horror of the thing. But dismiss the idle opinions of this print. It appears to
me that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the very reason which should
cause it to be regarded as easy of solution I mean for the outr character of
its features. The police are confounded by the seeming absence of motive not
for the murder itself but for the atrocity of the murder. They are puzzled,
too, by the seeming impossibility of reconciling the voices heard in
contention, with the facts that no one was discovered up stairs but the
assassinated Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and that there were no means of egress
without the notice of the party ascending. The wild disorder of the room; the
corpse thrust, with the head downward, up the chimney; the frightful mutilation
of the body of the old lady; these considerations, with those just mentioned, and
others which I need not mention, have sufficed to paralyze the powers, by
putting completely at fault the boasted acumen, of the government agents. They
have fallen into the gross but common error of confounding the unusual with the
abstruse. But it is by these deviations from the plane of the ordinary, that
reason feels its way, if at all, in its search for the true. In investigations
such as we are now pursuing, it should not be so much asked 'what has
occurred,' as 'what has occurred that has never occurred before.' In fact, the
facility with which I shall arrive, or have arrived, at the solution of this
mystery, is in the direct ratio of its apparent insolubility in the eyes of the
police."
I stared at
the speaker in mute astonishment.
"I am
now awaiting," continued he, looking toward the door of our apartment
"I am now awaiting a person who, although perhaps not the perpetrator of
these butcheries, must have been in some measure implicated in their
perpetration. Of the worst portion of the crimes committed, it is probable that
he is innocent. I hope that I am right in this supposition; for upon it I build
my expectation of reading the entire riddle. I look for the man here in this
room every moment. It is true that he may not arrive; but the probability is
that he will. Should he come, it will be necessary to detain him. Here are
pistols; and we both know how to use them when occasion demands their
use."
I took the
pistols, scarcely knowing what I did, or believing what I heard, while Dupin
went on, very much as if in a soliloquy. I have already spoken of his abstract
manner at such times. His discourse was addressed to myself; but his voice,
although by no means loud, had that intonation which is commonly employed in
speaking to some one at a great distance. His eyes, vacant in expression,
regarded only the wall.
"That
the voices heard in contention," he said, "by the party upon the
stairs, were not the voices of the women themselves, was fully proved by the
evidence. This relieves us of all doubt upon the question whether the old lady
could have first destroyed the daughter, and afterward have committed suicide.
I speak of this point chiefly for the sake of method; for the strength of
Madame L'Espanaye would have been utterly unequal to the task of thrusting her
daughter's corpse up the chimney as it was found; and the nature of the wounds
upon her own person entirely preclude the idea of self-destruction. Murder,
then, has been committed by some third party; and the voices of this third
party were those heard in contention. Let me now advert not to the whole
testimony respecting these voices but to what was peculiar in that testimony.
Did you observe any thing peculiar about it?"
I remarked
that, while all the witnesses agreed in supposing the gruff voice to be that of
a Frenchman, there was much disagreement in regard to the shrill, or, as one
individual termed it, the harsh voice.
"That
was the evidence itself," said Dupin, "but it was not the peculiarity
of the evidence. You have observed nothing distinctive. Yet there was something
to be observed. The witnesses, as you remark, agreed about the gruff voice;
they were here unanimous. But in regard to the shrill voice, the peculiarity is
not that they disagreed but that, while an Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard,
a Hollander, and a Frenchman attempted to describe it, each one spoke of it as
that of a foreigner. Each is sure that it was not the voice of one of his own
countrymen. Each likens it not to the voice of an individual of any nation with
whose language he is conversant but the converse. The Frenchman supposes it the
voice of a Spaniard, and 'might have distinguished some words had he been
acquainted with the Spanish.' The Dutchman maintains it to have been that of a
Frenchman; but we find it stated that 'not understanding French this witness
was examined through an interpreter.' The Englishman thinks it the voice of a
German, and 'does not understand German.' The Spaniard 'is sure' that it was
that of an Englishman, but 'judges by the intonation' altogether, 'as he has no
knowledge of the English.' The Italian believes it the voice of a Russian, but
'has never conversed with a native of Russia .' A second Frenchman
differs, moreover, with the first, and is positive that the voice was that of
an Italian; but, not being cognizant of that tongue, is, like the Spaniard,
'convinced by the intonation.' Now, how strangely unusual must that voice have
really been, about which such testimony as this could have been elicited! in
whose tones, even, denizens of the five great divisions of Europe
could recognise nothing familiar! You will say that it might have been the
voice of an Asiatic of an African. Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound in Paris ; but, without
denying the inference, I will now merely call your attention to three points.
The voice is termed by one witness 'harsh rather than shrill.' It is
represented by two others to have been 'quick and unequal.' No words no sounds
resembling words were by any witness mentioned as distinguishable.
"I
know not," continued Dupin, "what impression I may have made, so far,
upon your own understanding; but I do not hesitate to say that legitimate
deductions even from this portion of the testimony the portion respecting the
gruff and shrill voices are in themselves sufficient to engender a suspicion
which should give direction to all farther progress in the investigation of the
mystery. I said 'legitimate deductions;' but my meaning is not thus fully
expressed. I designed to imply that the deductions are the sole proper ones,
and that the suspicion arises inevitably from them as the single result. What
the suspicion is, however, I will not say just yet. I merely wish you to bear
in mind that, with myself, it was sufficiently forcible to give a definite form
a certain tendency to my inquiries in the chamber.
"Let
us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this chamber. What shall we first seek
here? The means of egress employed by the murderers. It is not too much to say
that neither of us believe in prternatural events. Madame and Mademoiselle
L'Espanaye were not destroyed by spirits. The doers of the deed were material,
and escaped materially. Then how? Fortunately, there is but one mode of
reasoning upon the point, and that mode must lead us to a definite decision.
Let us examine, each by each, the possible means of egress. It is clear that
the assassins were in the room where Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was found, or at
least in the room adjoining, when the party ascended the stairs. It is then
only from these two apartments that we have to seek issues. The police have
laid bare the floors, the ceilings, and the masonry of the walls, in every
direction. No secret issues could have escaped their vigilance. But, not
trusting to their eyes, I examined with my own. There were, then, no secret
issues. Both doors leading from the rooms into the passage were securely
locked, with the keys inside. Let us turn to the chimneys. These, although of
ordinary width for some eight or ten feet above the hearths, will not admit,
throughout their extent, the body of a large cat. The impossibility of egress,
by means already stated, being thus absolute, we are reduced to the windows.
Through those of the front room no one could have escaped without notice from
the crowd in the street. The murderers must have passed, then, through those of
the back room. Now, brought to this conclusion in so unequivocal a manner as we
are, it is not our part, as reasoners, to reject it on account of apparent
impossibilities. It is only left for us to prove that these apparent
'impossibilities' are, in reality, not such.
"There
are two windows in the chamber. One of them is unobstructed by furniture, and
is wholly visible. The lower portion of the other is hidden from view by the
head of the unwieldy bedstead which is thrust close up against it. The former
was found securely fastened from within. It resisted the utmost force of those
who endeavored to raise it. A large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame
to the left, and a very stout nail was found fitted therein, nearly to the
head. Upon examining the other window, a similar nail was seen similarly fitted
in it; and a vigorous attempt to raise this sash, failed also. The police were
now entirely satisfied that egress had not been in these directions. And,
therefore, it was thought a matter of supererogation to withdraw the nails and
open the windows.
"My
own examination was somewhat more particular, and was so for the reason I have
just given because here it was, I knew, that all apparent impossibilities must
be proved to be not such in reality.
"I
proceeded to think thus posteriori. The murderers did escape from one of these
windows. This being so, they could not have re-fastened the sashes from the
inside, as they were found fastened; the consideration which put a stop,
through its obviousness, to the scrutiny of the police in this quarter. Yet the
sashes were fastened. They must, then, have the power of fastening themselves.
There was no escape from this conclusion. I stepped to the unobstructed
casement, withdrew the nail with some difficulty, and attempted to raise the
sash. It resisted all my efforts, as I had anticipated. A concealed spring
must, I now knew, exist; and this corroboration of my idea convinced me that my
premises, at least, were correct, however mysterious still appeared the
circumstances attending the nails. A careful search soon brought to light the
hidden spring. I pressed it, and, satisfied with the discovery, forbore to
upraise the sash.
"I now
replaced the nail and regarded it attentively. A person passing out through
this window might have reclosed it, and the spring would have caught but the
nail could not have been replaced. The conclusion was plain, and again narrowed
in the field of my investigations. The assassins must have escaped through the
other window. Supposing, then, the springs upon each sash to be the same, as
was probable, there must be found a difference between the nails, or at least
between the modes of their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bedstead, I
looked over the head-board minutely at the second casement. Passing my hand
down behind the board, I readily discovered and pressed the spring, which was,
as I had supposed, identical in character with its neighbor. I now looked at
the nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparently fitted in the same
manner driven in nearly up to the head.
"You
will say that I was puzzled; but, if you think so, you must have misunderstood
the nature of the inductions. To use a sporting phrase, I had not been once 'at
fault.' The scent had never for an instant been lost. There was no flaw in any
link of the chain. I had traced the secret to its ultimate result, and that
result was the nail. It had, I say, in every respect, the appearance of its
fellow in the other window; but this fact was an absolute nullity (conclusive
as it might seem to be) when compared with the consideration that here, at this
point, terminated the clew. 'There must be something wrong,' I said, 'about the
nail.' I touched it; and the head, with about a quarter of an inch of the
shank, came off in my fingers. The rest of the shank was in the gimlet-hole,
where it had been broken off. The fracture was an old one (for its edges were
incrusted with rust), and had apparently been accomplished by the blow of a
hammer, which had partially imbedded, in the top of the bottom sash, the head
portion of the nail. I now carefully replaced this head portion in the
indentation whence I had taken it, and the resemblance to a perfect nail was
complete the fissure was invisible. Pressing the spring, I gently raised the
sash for a few inches; the head went up with it, remaining firm in its bed. I
closed the window, and the semblance of the whole nail was again perfect.
"The
riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The assassin had escaped through the window
which looked upon the bed. Droping [Dropping] of its own accord upon his exit
(or perhaps purposely closed), it had become fastened by the spring; and it was
the retention of this spring which had been mistaken by the police for that of
the nail, farther inquiry being thus considered unnecessary.
"The
next question is that of the mode of descent. Upon this point I had been
satisfied in my walk with you around the building. About five feet and a half
from the casement in question there runs a lightning-rod. From this rod it
would have been impossible for any one to reach the window itself, to say
nothing of entering it. I observed, however, that the shutters of the fourth
story were of the peculiar kind called by Parisian carpenters ferrades a kind
rarely employed at the present day, but frequently seen upon very old mansions
at Lyons and Bourdeaux. They are in the form of an ordinary door, (a single,
not a folding door) except that the lower half is latticed or worked in open
trellis thus affording an excellent hold for the hands. In the present instance
these shutters are fully three feet and a half broad. When we saw them from the
rear of the house, they were both about half open that is to say, they stood
off at right angles from the wall. It is probable that the police, as well as
myself, examined the back of the tenement; but, if so, in looking at these
ferrades in the line of their breadth (as they must have done), they did not
perceive this great breadth itself, or, at all events, failed to take it into
due consideration. In fact, having once satisfied themselves that no egress
could have been made in this quarter, they would naturally bestow here a very
cursory examination. It was clear to me, however, that the shutter belonging to
the window at the head of the bed, would, if swung fully back to the wall,
reach to within two feet of the lightning-rod. It was also evident that, by
exertion of a very unusual degree of activity and courage, an entrance into the
window, from the rod, might have been thus effected. By reaching to the
distance of two feet and a half (we now suppose the shutter open to its whole
extent) a robber might have taken a firm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting
go, then, his hold upon the rod, placing his feet securely against the wall,
and springing boldly from it, he might have swung the shutter so as to close
it, and, if we imagine the window open at the time, might even have swung
himself into the room.
"I
wish you to bear especially in mind that I have spoken of a very unusual degree
of activity as requisite to success in so hazardous and so difficult a feat. It
is my design to show you, first, that the thing might possibly have been
accomplished: but, secondly and chiefly, I wish to impress upon your
understanding the very extraordinary the almost prternatural character of that
agility which could have accomplished it.
"You
will say, no doubt, using the language of the law, that 'to make out my case,'
I should rather undervalue, than insist upon a full estimation of the activity
required in this matter. This may be the practice in law, but it is not the
usage of reason. My ultimate object is only the truth. My immediate purpose is
to lead you to place in juxta-position, that very unusual activity of which I
have just spoken, with that very peculiar shrill (or harsh) and unequal voice,
about whose nationality no two persons could be found to agree, and in whose
utterance no syllabification could be detected."
At these
words a vague and half-formed conception of the meaning of Dupin flitted over
my mind. I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension, without power to
comprehend as men, at times, find themselves upon the brink of remembrance,
without being able, in the end, to remember. My friend went on with his discourse.
"You
will see," he said, "that I have shifted the question from the mode
of egress to that of ingress. It was my design to convey the idea that both
were effected in the same manner, at the same point. Let us now revert to the
interior of the room. Let us survey the appearances here. The drawers of the
bureau, it is said, had been rifled, although many articles of apparel still
remained within them. The conclusion here is absurd. It is a mere guess a very
silly one and no more. How are we to know that the articles found in the
drawers were not all these drawers had originally contained? Madame L'Espanaye
and her daughter lived an exceedingly retired life saw no company seldom went
out had little use for numerous changes of habiliment. Those found were at least
of as good quality as any likely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief
had taken any, why did he not take the best why did he not take all? In a word,
why did he abandon four thousand francs in gold to encumber himself with a
bundle of linen? The gold was abandoned. Nearly the whole sum mentioned by
Monsieur Mignaud, the banker, was discovered, in bags, upon the floor. I wish
you, therefore, to discard from your thoughts the blundering idea of motive,
engendered in the brains of the police by that portion of the evidence which
speaks of money delivered at the door of the house. Coincidences ten times as
remarkable as this (the delivery of the money, and murder committed within
three days upon the party receiving it), happen to all of us every hour of our
lives, without attracting even momentary notice. Coincidences, in general, are
great stumbling-blocks in the way of that class of thinkers who have been
educated to know nothing of the theory of probabilities that theory to which
the most glorious objects of human research are indebted for the most glorious
of illustration. In the present instance, had the gold been gone, the fact of
its delivery three days before would have formed something more than a
coincidence. It would have been corroborative of this idea of motive. But,
under the real circumstances of the case, if we are to suppose gold the motive
of this outrage, we must also imagine the perpetrator so vacillating an idiot
as to have abandoned his gold and his motive together.
"Keeping
now steadily in mind the points to which I have drawn your attention that
peculiar voice, that unusual agility, and that startling absence of motive in a
murder so singularly atrocious as this let us glance at the butchery itself.
Here is a woman strangled to death by manual strength, and thrust up a chimney,
head downward. Ordinary assassins employ no such modes of murder as this. Least
of all, do they thus dispose of the murdered. In the manner of thrusting the
corpse up the chimney, you will admit that there was something excessively outr
something altogether irreconcilable with our common notions of human action,
even when we suppose the actors the most depraved of men. Think, too, how great
must have been that strength which could have thrust the body up such an
aperture so forcibly that the united vigor of several persons was found barely
sufficient to drag it down!
"Turn,
now, to other indications of the employment of a vigor most marvellous. On the
hearth were thick tresses very thick tresses of grey human hair. These had been
torn out by the roots. You are aware of the great force necessary in tearing
thus from the head even twenty or thirty hairs together. You saw the locks in
question as well as myself. Their roots (a hideous sight!) were clotted with fragments
of the flesh of the scalp sure token of the prodigious power which had been
exerted in uprooting perhaps half a million of hairs at a time. The throat of
the old lady was not merely cut, but the head absolutely severed from the body:
the instrument was a mere razor. I wish you also to look at the brutal ferocity
of these deeds. Of the bruises upon the body of Madame L'Espanaye I do not
speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthy coadjutor Monsieur Etienne, have
pronounced that they were inflicted by some obtuse instrument; and so far these
gentlemen are very correct. The obtuse instrument was clearly the stone
pavement in the yard, upon which the victim had fallen from the window which
looked in upon the bed. This idea, however simple it may now seem, escaped the
police for the same reason that the breadth of the shutters escaped them
because, by the affair of the nails, their perceptions had been hermetically
sealed against the possibility of the windows having ever been opened at all.
"If
now, in addition to all these things, you have properly reflected upon the odd
disorder of the chamber, we have gone so far as to combine the ideas of an
agility astounding, a strength superhuman, a ferocity brutal, a butchery
without motive, a grotesquerie in horror absolutely alien from humanity, and a
voice foreign in tone to the ears of men of many nations, and devoid of all
distinct or intelligible syllabification. What result, then, has ensued? What
impression have I made upon your fancy?"
I felt a
creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the question. "A madman," I
said, "has done this deed some raving maniac, escaped from a neighboring
Maison de Sant."
"In
some respects," he replied, "your idea is not irrelevant. But the
voices of madmen, even in their wildest paroxysms, are never found to tally
with that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Madmen are of some nation, and
their language, however incoherent in its words, has always the coherence of
syllabification. Besides, the hair of a madman is not such as I now hold in my
hand. I disentangled this little tuft from the rigidly clutched fingers of
Madame L'Espanaye. Tell me what you can make of it."
"Dupin!"
I said, completely unnerved; "this hair is most unusual this is no human
hair."
"I
have not asserted that it is," said he; "but, before we decide this
point, I wish you to glance at the little sketch I have here traced upon this
paper. It is a fac-simile drawing of what has been described in one portion of
the testimony as 'dark bruises, and deep indentations of finger nails,' upon
the throat of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and in another, (by Messrs. Dumas and
Etienne,) as a 'series of livid spots, evidently the impression of fingers.'
"You
will perceive," continued my friend, spreading out the paper upon the
table before us, "that this drawing gives the idea of a firm and fixed
hold. There is no slipping apparent. Each finger has retained possibly until
the death of the victim the fearful grasp by which it originally imbedded
itself. Attempt, now, to place all your fingers, at the same time, in the
respective impressions as you see them."
I made the
attempt in vain.
"We
are possibly not giving this matter a fair trial," he said. "The
paper is spread out upon a plane surface; but the human throat is cylindrical.
Here is a billet of wood, the circumference of which is about that of the
throat. Wrap the drawing around it, and try the experiment again."
I did so;
but the difficulty was even more obvious than before. "This," I said,
"is the mark of no human hand."
"Read
now," replied Dupin, "this passage from Cuvier."
It was a
minute anatomical and generally descriptive account of the large fulvous
Ourang-Outang of the East Indian Islands. The gigantic stature, the prodigious
strength and activity, the wild ferocity, and the imitative propensities of
these mammalia are sufficiently well known to all. I understood the full
horrors of the murder at once.
"The
description of the digits," said I, as I made an end of reading, "is
in exact accordance with this drawing. I see that no animal but an
Ourang-Outang, of the species here mentioned, could have impressed the
indentations as you have traced them. This tuft of tawny hair, too, is
identical in character with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I cannot possibly
comprehend the particulars of this frightful mystery. Besides, there were two
voices heard in contention, and one of them was unquestionably the voice of a
Frenchman."
"True;
and you will remember an expression attributed almost unanimously, by the
evidence, to this voice, the expression, 'mon Dieu!' This, under the
circumstances, has been justly characterized by one of the witnesses (Montani,
the confectioner,) as an expression of remonstrance or expostulation. Upon
these two words, therefore, I have mainly built my hopes of a full solution of
the riddle. A Frenchman was cognizant of the murder. It is possible indeed it
is far more than probable that he was innocent of all participation in the
bloody transactions which took place. The Ourang-Outang may have escaped from
him. He may have traced it to the chamber; but, under the agitating
circumstances which ensued, he could never have re-captured it. It is still at
large. I will not pursue these guesses for I have no right to call them more
since the shades of reflection upon which they are based are scarcely of
sufficient depth to be appreciable by my own intellect, and since I could not
pretend to make them intelligible to the understanding of another. We will call
them guesses then, and speak of them as such. If the Frenchman in question is
indeed, as I suppose, innocent of this atrocity, this advertisement, which I
left last night, upon our return home, at the office of 'Le Monde,' (a paper
devoted to the shipping interest, and much sought by sailors,) will bring him
to our residence."
He handed
me a paper, and I read thus:
CAUGHT In
the Bois de Boulogne , early in the morning of
the inst., (the morning of the murder,) a very large, tawny Ourang-Outang of
the Bornese species. The owner, (who is ascertained to be a sailor, belonging
to a Maltese vessel,) may have the animal again, upon identifying it
satisfactorily, and paying a few charges arising from its capture and keeping.
Call at No. , Rue , Faubourg St. Germain au troisime.
"How
was it possible," I asked, "that you should know the man to be a
sailor, and belonging to a Maltese vessel?"
"I do
not know it," said Dupin. "I am not sure of it. Here, however, is a
small piece of ribbon, which from its form, and from its greasy appearance, has
evidently been used in tying the hair in one of those long queues of which
sailors are so fond. Moreover, this knot is one which few besides sailors can
tie, and is peculiar to the Maltese. I picked the ribbon up at the foot of the
lightning-rod. It could not have belonged to either of the deceased. Now if,
after all, I am wrong in my induction from this ribbon, that the Frenchman was
a sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel, still I can have done no harm in saying
what I did in the advertisement. If I am in error, he will merely suppose that
I have been misled by some circumstance into which he will not take the trouble
to inquire. But if I am right, a great point is gained. Cognizant although
innocent of the murder, the Frenchman will naturally hesitate about replying to
the advertisement about demanding the Ourang-Outang. He will reason thus: 'I am
innocent; I am poor; my Ourang-Outang is of great value to one in my
circumstances a fortune of itself why should I lose it through idle
apprehensions of danger? Here it is, within my grasp. It was found in the Bois de Boulogne at a vast distance from the scene of
that butchery. How can it ever be suspected that a brute beast should have done
the deed? The police are at fault they have failed to procure the slightest
clew. Should they even trace the animal, it would be impossible to prove me
cognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilt on account of that
cognizance. Above all, I am known. The advertiser designates me as the
possessor of the beast. I am not sure to what limit his knowledge may extend.
Should I avoid claiming a property of so great value, which it is known that I
possess, I will render the animal at least, liable to suspicion. It is not my
policy to attract attention either to myself or to the beast. I will answer the
advertisement, get the Ourang-Outang, and keep it close until this matter has
blown over.' "
At this
moment we heard a step upon the stairs.
"Be
ready," said Dupin, "with your pistols, but neither use them nor show
them until at a signal from myself."
The front
door of the house had been left open, and the visiter had entered, without
ringing, and advanced several steps upon the staircase. Now, however, he seemed
to hesitate. Presently we heard him descending. Dupin was moving quickly to the
door, when we again heard him coming up. He did not turn back a second time,
but stepped up with decision, and rapped at the door of our chamber.
"Come
in," said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone.
A man
entered. He was a sailor, evidently, a tall, stout, and muscular-looking person,
with a certain dare-devil expression of countenance, not altogether
unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was more than half hidden by
whisker and mustachio. He had with him a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be
otherwise unarmed. He bowed awkwardly, and bade us "good evening," in
French accents, which, although somewhat Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently
indicative of a Parisian origin.
"Sit
down, my friend," said Dupin. "I suppose you have called about the
Ourang-Outang. Upon my word, I almost envy you the possession of him; a
remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuable animal. How old do you suppose
him to be?"
The sailor
drew a long breath, with the air of a man relieved of some intolerable burden,
and then replied, in an assured tone:
"I
have no way of telling but he can't be more than four or five years old. Have
you got him here?"
"Oh
no; we had no conveniences for keeping him here. He is at a livery stable in
the Rue Dubourg, just by. You can get him in the morning. Of course you are
prepared to identify the property?"
"To be
sure I am, sir."
"I
shall be sorry to part with him," said Dupin.
"I
don't mean that you should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir," said
the man. "Couldn't expect it. Am very willing to pay a reward for the
finding of the animal that is to say, any thing in reason."
"Well,"
replied my friend, "that is all very fair, to be sure. Let me think! what
should I have? Oh! I will tell you. My reward shall be this. You shall give me
all the information in your power about these murders in the Rue Morgue."
Dupin said
the last words in a very low tone, and very quietly. Just as quietly, too, he
walked toward the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. He then drew
a pistol from his bosom and placed it, without the least flurry, upon the
table.
The
sailor's face flushed up as if he were struggling with suffocation. He started
to his feet and grasped his cudgel; but the next moment he fell back into his
seat, trembling violently, and with the countenance of death itself. He spoke
not a word. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart.
"My
friend," said Dupin, in a kind tone, "you are alarming yourself
unnecessarily you are indeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I pledge you the
honor of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we intend you no injury. I
perfectly well know that you are innocent of the atrocities in the Rue Morgue.
It will not do, however, to deny that you are in some measure implicated in
them. From what I have already said, you must know that I have had means of
information about this matter means of which you could never have dreamed. Now
the thing stands thus. You have done nothing which you could have avoided
nothing, certainly, which renders you culpable. You were not even guilty of
robbery, when you might have robbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal.
You have no reason for concealment. On the other hand, you are bound by every
principle of honor to confess all you know. An innocent man is now imprisoned,
charged with that crime of which you can point out the perpetrator."
The sailor
had recovered his presence of mind, in a great measure, while Dupin uttered
these words; but his original boldness of bearing was all gone.
"So
help me God," said he, after a brief pause, "I will tell you all I
know about this affair; but I do not expect you to believe one half I say I
would be a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am innocent, and I will make a clean
breast if I die for it."
What he
stated was, in substance, this. He had lately made a voyage to the Indian
Archipelago. A party, of which he formed one, landed at Borneo ,
and passed into the interior on an excursion of pleasure. Himself and a
companion had captured the Ourang- Outang. This companion dying, the animal
fell into his own exclusive possession. After great trouble, occasioned by the
intractable ferocity of his captive during the home voyage, he at length
succeeded in lodging it safely at his own residence in Paris, where, not to
attract toward himself the unpleasant curiosity of his neighbors, he kept it
carefully secluded, until such time as it should recover from a wound in the
foot, received from a splinter on board ship. His ultimate design was to sell
it.
Returning
home from some sailors' frolic the night, or rather in the morning of the murder,
he found the beast occupying his own bed-room, into which it had broken from a
closet adjoining, where it had been, as was thought, securely confined. Razor
in hand, and fully lathered, it was sitting before a looking-glass, attempting
the operation of shaving, in which it had no doubt previously watched its
master through the key-hole of the closet. Terrified at the sight of so
dangerous a weapon in the possession of an animal so ferocious, and so well
able to use it, the man, for some moments, was at a loss what to do. He had
been accustomed, however, to quiet the creature, even in its fiercest moods, by
the use of a whip, and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of it, the
Ourang-Outang sprang at once through the door of the chamber, down the stairs, and
thence, through a window, unfortunately open, into the street.
The
Frenchman followed in despair; the ape, razor still in hand, occasionally
stopping to look back and gesticulate at its pursuer, until the latter had
nearly come up with it. It then again made off. In this manner the chase
continued for a long time. The streets were profoundly quiet, as it was nearly
three o'clock in the morning. In passing down an alley in the rear of the Rue
Morgue, the fugitive's attention was arrested by a light gleaming from the open
window of Madame L'Espanaye's chamber, in the fourth story of her house.
Rushing to the building, it perceived the lightning-rod, clambered up with
inconceivable agility, grasped the shutter, which was thrown fully back against
the wall, and, by its means, swung itself directly upon the headboard of the
bed. The whole feat did not occupy a minute. The shutter was kicked open again
by the Ourang-Outang as it entered the room.
The sailor,
in the meantime, was both rejoiced and perplexed. He had strong hopes of now
recapturing the brute, as it could scarcely escape from the trap into which it
had ventured, except by the rod, where it might be intercepted as it came down.
On the other hand, there was much cause for anxiety as to what it might do in
the house. This latter reflection urged the man still to follow the fugitive. A
lightning-rod is ascended without difficulty, especially by a sailor; but, when
he had arrived as high as the window, which lay far to his left, his career was
stopped; the most that he could accomplish was to reach over so as to obtain a
glimpse of the interior of the room. At this glimpse he nearly fell from his
hold through excess of horror. Now it was that those hideous shrieks arose upon
the night, which had startled from slumber the inmates of the Rue Morgue.
Madame L'Espanaye and her daughter, habited in their night clothes, had
apparently been occupied in arranging some papers in the iron chest already
mentioned, which had been wheeled into the middle of the room. It was open, and
its contents lay beside it on the floor. The victims must have been sitting
with their backs toward the window; and, from the time elapsing between the
ingress of the beast and the screams, it seems probable that it was not
immediately perceived. The flapping-to of the shutter would naturally have been
attributed to the wind.
As the
sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had seized Madame L'Espanaye by the hair,
(which was loose, as she had been combing it,) and was flourishing the razor
about her face, in imitation of the motions of a barber. The daughter lay
prostrate and motionless; she had swooned. The screams and struggles of the old
lady (during which the hair was torn from her head) had the effect of changing
the probably pacific purposes of the Ourang-Outang into those of wrath. With
one determined sweep of its muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her
body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into phrenzy. Gnashing its teeth,
and flashing fire from its eyes, it flew upon the body of the girl, and
imbedded its fearful talons in her throat, retaining its grasp until she
expired. Its wandering and wild glances fell at this moment upon the head of
the bed, over which the face of its master, rigid with horror, was just
discernible. The fury of the beast, who no doubt bore still in mind the dreaded
whip, was instantly converted into fear. Conscious of having deserved
punishment, it seemed desirous of concealing its bloody deeds, and skipped
about the chamber in an agony of nervous agitation; throwing down and breaking
the furniture as it moved, and dragging the bed from the bedstead. In
conclusion, it seized first the corpse of the daughter, and thrust it up the
chimney, as it was found; then that of the old lady, which it immediately hurled
through the window headlong.
As the ape
approached the casement with its mutilated burden, the sailor shrank aghast to
the rod, and, rather gliding than clambering down it, hurried at once home
dreading the consequences of the butchery, and gladly abandoning, in his
terror, all solicitude about the fate of the Ourang-Outang. The words heard by
the party upon the staircase were the Frenchman's exclamations of horror and
affright, commingled with the fiendish jabberings of the brute.
I have
scarcely anything to add. The Ourang-Outang must have escaped from the chamber,
by the rod, just before the breaking of the door. It must have closed the
window as it passed through it. It was subsequently caught by the owner
himself, who obtained for it a very large sum at the Jardin des Plantes. Le Bon
was instantly released, upon our narration of the circumstances (with some
comments from Dupin) at the bureau of the Prefect of Police. This functionary,
however well disposed to my friend, could not altogether conceal his chagrin at
the turn which affairs had taken, and was fain to indulge in a sarcasm or two,
about the propriety of every person minding his own business.
"Let
him talk," said Dupin, who had not thought it necessary to reply.
"Let him discourse; it will ease his conscience. I am satisfied with
having defeated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, that he failed in the
solution of this mystery, is by no means that matter for wonder which he
supposes it; for, in truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhat too cunning to
be profound. In his wisdom is no stamen. It is all head and no body, like the
pictures of the Goddess Laverna, or, at best, all head and shoulders, like a
codfish. But he is a good creature after all. I like him especially for one
master stroke of cant, by which he has attained his reputation for ingenuity. I
mean the way he has 'de nier ce qui est, et d'expliquer ce qui n'est pas.' "*
* Rousseau - Nouvelle Heloise.
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