Part 3 (1/2)
You were a witness yesterday evening of my quarrel with Captain Pollenz and my clerk. Precisely on this account I do not wish to include in my official paper a suspicion which I myself hold to be entirely groundless. I promise you that I will neglect nothing that will lead to the discovery of the murderer, that I will investigate every step which Herr Schorn has taken to-day, and will have him watched by a thoroughly competent detective. If he is guilty, I shall discover his guilt; but I do not believe he is so, and because I am his foe I will not attach any suspicion to him which, while the true murderer remains undiscovered, might ruin his life, merely because at the time of the murder he had been seen near the scene of the crime. Promise me, Herr Professor, that you will tell no one at present of your meeting with Franz Schorn.
Should there be other and more important grounds for suspecting him, I shall request you to give me your account officially.”
I pressed the Judge's hand cordially, and joyfully gave him the promise for which he asked. How unjustly I had judged this man! How I had misunderstood him! I was ashamed of the reluctance I had felt to tell him of my meeting with Franz Schorn.
”I must now make out a short official account of your information,” the District Judge continued. ”You can hardly believe how difficult this is for me. Your account has agitated me so profoundly that I can scarcely control myself. I was very familiar with old Pollenz. He had indeed many disagreeable qualities. Toward others he was often hard and unyielding, but I never had anything to complain of in his behaviour to me. He has often shown me favours. He was indeed almost a friend, and now I must prepare a paper which shall show him to be the victim of a horrible crime, which I must take the first steps to investigate. It must be done. It is my duty. In spite of the pain which my right hand gives me in writing, I will do it immediately.”
He took a sheet of paper; pens and ink were at hand, and seated himself on the sofa behind the large table to write. His hand could not have been very painful, for it did not prevent his writing swiftly and clearly. Now and then, without interrupting his writing, he addressed some brief, leading question to me, and in scarcely ten minutes the paper was finished. He read it aloud to me. It was wonderfully concise and clear, without saying one word too much or too little, and I signed it without an alteration. After he had added his own signature, he said, ”I must now beg you, Herr Professor, to accompany me to the Lonely House. I shall immediately summon my a.s.sistant, as well as the District Physician and the captain of gendarmes, to inspect the premises. You, too, Herr Professor, must be present. You must testify that nothing in the house has been altered in your absence. This is important for further investigation. Can I count upon you!”
”Most certainly.”
”Then pray hold yourself in readiness. In half an hour, at the latest, I shall have notified the other gentlemen. The time of waiting, if I may advise you, should be employed by you in strengthening yourself with food and drink. Yon may not feel the need of refreshment at present, but we have some sad hours before us.”
How kind and thoughtful! I certainly had cause to ask pardon in my heart of the District Judge for the prejudice he had created.
CHAPTER IV.
THE INVESTIGATION.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon when Herr Foligno called for me in the dining-room, where I was sitting with the Captain. It had taken him almost an hour to a.s.semble those who were to inspect the scene of the murder in the Lonely House. I had informed the Captain, a near relative of the murdered man, of my terrible discovery, and he had been deeply moved. He said:
”I was never intimate with old Pollenz, although he was my first cousin. He was a hard usurer and a miser. He loved no one in the world save his daughter, but that his end has been so horrible is certainly very sad. Poor child, my dear little Anna! How will she bear this fearful shock! I saw her about twelve o'clock here in Luttach with her old maid, Johanna. She had been paying a visit to an aged aunt, and she is probably still there. I must see if it be so. I do not willingly visit the malicious old gossip, but if Anna is still with her, I must go to prepare the poor child for the sad news that awaits her.”
He sent Mizka to old Frau Lancic's, and in a few minutes she returned to say that Fraulein Anna had been with the widow, but that she had left about a quarter of an hour before to make some purchases in the village and then to return home.
Upon hearing this, the Captain determined to accompany the officials to the Lonely House, for which he received permission from the District Judge.
Soon after four o'clock we began our walk; not by the steep rocky path, which was rather too difficult for the old District Physician, and might prove dangerous, but in accordance with the Judge's directions, by the longer way past the village of Oberberg.
We could make but slow progress, for the heat was still oppressive. The old physician gasped and panted as we ascended the mountain. The Judge with kindly consideration, begged him to walk slowly, although he himself was trembling with impatience to reach our goal.
We met various people on the way. They greeted us politely and looked after us with surprise. Intelligence of the murder had not yet reached the village of Oberberg, and people could not imagine what so many persons, accompanied by the captain of gendarmes, could have to do in the little village. I walked first with the Captain. The Judge and his clerk followed, and, naturally, very little was said as we pursued our way; all were oppressed by a sense of what lay before them.
We had turned into the path by the crucifix leading on the left to the Lonely House, and were but a short distance from the spot to which we were tending, when the Captain suddenly stood still and said in a faltering voice, ”There comes my poor little Anna.”
She came towards us hurriedly from the Lonely House. She was called pretty Anna in the country round, and indeed she deserved the name. I have scarcely ever in my long life seen so beautiful a girl. Even her expression of intense anxiety could not distort her charming face. When she recognized the Captain she flew towards him.
”Oh, uncle, my dear kind uncle, thank G.o.d you are here!” she cried. ”I am dying with anxiety; my father will not open the door. For a quarter of an hour Johanna and I have been knocking in vain. Something must have happened to him, or he would hear us and open the door for us.”
The Captain put his arm round the lovely child and pressed a kiss upon her white forehead. ”My poor little girl!” he murmured. His voice failed him; he could say no more; his eyes filled with tears; he tried to control himself, but the compa.s.sion which he felt for the girl in his arms was too intense; it mastered him; he could hardly utter a word.
”Good heavens! What has happened?” cried Anna, extricating herself from the Captain's embrace and gazing at him, her large black eyes dilated with horror. ”You call me your poor girl? There are tears in your eyes.
For G.o.d's sake tell me what it means! Has anything happened to my father? Oh, answer me, uncle! I would rather hear the worst than suffer such suspense.”
The Judge answered instead of the Captain, who could not control his voice. ”Compose yourself, Fraulein Anna,” he said with grave kindliness, ”you need all your courage, all your self-control to endure the misfortune which G.o.d has sent to you. Unfortunately your anxiety is justified. Something has indeed happened to your father, my lifelong friend.”
”He is dead!” the girl cried, with what was almost a shriek; overcome with grief, she tottered and would have fallen to the ground if the Captain had not thrown his arms about her. The Judge took her hand with deep sympathy, but she s.n.a.t.c.hed it away and pushed him from her with a gesture expressive of the most profound aversion.
”Do not touch me; I hate, I despise you!” she cried, as she cast herself again into the Captain's arms. ”Uncle, my dear kind uncle, you tell me what has happened. I can hear the worst from you, but not from that man.”
The Judge, thus rudely repulsed, was deeply offended, but was too magnanimous--his pity for the unfortunate girl was too profound to admit of his expressing his resentment by a harsh word.