This eBook was produced by Dagny,
and David Widger,
MONTHS passed away before my senses returned to me. I rose from the bedof suffering and of madness calm, collected, immovable,—altered, buttranquil. All the vigilance of justice had been employed to discoverthe murderers, but in vain. The packet was gone; and directly I, whoalone was able to do so, recovered enough to state the loss of thatdocument, suspicion naturally rested on Gerald, as on one whom that lossessentially benefited. He came publicly forward to anticipate inquiry.He proved that he had not stirred from home during the whole week inwhich the event had occurred. That seemed likely enough to others; itis the tools that work, not the instigator,—the bravo, not theemployer; but I, who saw in him not only the robber, but that fearfulrival who had long threatened Isora that my bridals should be stainedwith blood, was somewhat staggered by the undeniable proofs of hisabsence from the scene of that night; and I was still more bewildered inconjecture by remembering that, so far as their disguises and my ownhurried and confused observation could allow me to judge, the person ofneither villain, still less that of Isora's murderer, corresponded withthe proportions and height of Gerald. Still, however, whether mediatelyor immediately—whether as the executor or the designer—not a doubtremained on my mind that against his head was justice due. I directedinquiry towards Montreuil: he was abroad at the time of my recovery;but, immediately on his return, he came forward boldly and at once tomeet and even to court the inquiry I had instituted; he did more,—hedemanded on what ground, besides my own word, it rested that this packethad ever been in my possession; and, to my surprise and perplexity, itwas utterly impossible to produce the smallest trace of Mr. MarieOswald. His half-brother, the attorney, had died, it is true, justbefore the event of that night; and it was also true that he had seenMarie on his death-bed; but no other corroboration of my story could besubstantiated, and no other information of the man obtained; and thepartisans of Gerald were not slow in hinting at the great interest I hadin forging a tale respecting a will, about the authenticity of which Iwas at law.
The robbers had entered the house by a back-door, which was found open.No one had perceived their entrance or exit, except Desmarais, whostated that he heard a cry; that he, having spent the greater part ofthe night abroad, had not been in bed above an hour before he heard it;that he rose and hurried towards my room, whence the cry came; that hemet two men masked on the stairs; that he seized one, who struck him inthe breast with a poniard, dashed him to the ground, and escaped; thathe then immediately alarmed the house, and, the servants accompanyinghim, he proceeded, despite his wound, to my apartment, where he foundIsora and myself bleeding and lifeless, with the escritoire broken open.
The only contradiction to this tale was, that the officers of justicefound the escritoire not broken open, but unlocked; and yet the keywhich belonged to it was found in a pocketbook in my clothes, whereDesmarais said, rightly, I always kept it. How, then, had theescritoire been unlocked? it was supposed by the master-keys peculiar toexperienced burglars; this diverted suspicion into a new channel, and itwas suggested that the robbery and the murder had really been committedby common housebreakers. It was then discovered that a large purse ofgold, and a diamond cross, wh