classic mystery and detective stories-第66章

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vengeance　of　justice；　which　rose　from　all　sides　of　the　startled

city。　　Never　shall　I　forget　the　hurry；　the　agitation；　the　feverish

restlessness；　the　universal　communicativeness；　the　volunteered

services；　the　eager　suggestion；　surging　round　the　house　of　the

unhappy　parents。　　Herr　Lehfeldt；　the　father　of　the　unhappy　girl；

was　a　respected　burgher　known　to　almost　every　one。　　His　mercer's

shop　was　the　leading　one　of　the　city。　　A　worthy；　pious　man；

somewhat　strict；　but　of　irreproachable　character；　his　virtues；　no

less　than　those　of　his　wife；　and　of　his　only　daughter；　Lieschen

now；　alas；　for　ever　snatched　from　their　yearning　eyeswere

canvassed　everywhere；　and　served　to　intensify　the　general　grief。

That　such　a　calamity　should　have　fallen　on　a　household　so

estimable；　seemed　to　add　fuel　to　the　people's　wrath。　　Poor

Lieschen！　her　pretty；　playful　waysher　opening　prospects；　as　the

only　daughter　of　parents　so　well　to　do　and　so　kindher　youth　and

abounding　lifethese　were　detailed　with　impassioned　fervor　by

friends；　and　repeated　by　strangers　who　caught　the　tone　of　friends；

as　if　they；　too；　had　known　and　loved　her。　　But　amidst　the　surging

uproar　of　this　sea　of　many　voices　no　one　clear　voice　of　direction

could　be　heard；　no　clue　given　to　the　clamorous　bloodhounds　to　run

down　the　assassin。



Cries　had　been　heard　in　the　streets　that　night　at　various　parts　of

the　town；　which；　although　then　interpreted　as　the　quarrels　of

drunken　brawlers；　and　the　conflicts　of　cats；　were　now　confidently

asserted　to　have　proceeded　from　the　unhappy　girl　in　her　death…

struggle。　　But　none　of　these　cries　had　been　heard　in　the　immediate

neighborhood　of　the　archway。　　All　the　inhabitants　of　that　part　of

the　town　agreed　that　in　their　waking　hours　the　streets　had　been

perfectly　still。　　Nor　were　there　any　traces　visible　of　a　struggle

having　taken　place。　　Lieschen　might　have　been　murdered　elsewhere；

and　her　corpse　quietly　deposited　where　it　was　found；　as　far　as　any

evidence　went。



Wild　and　vague　were　the　conjectures。　　All　were　baffled　in　the

attempt　to　give　them　a　definite　direction。　　The　crime　was

apparently　prompted　by　revengecertainly　not　by　lust；　or　desire　of

money。　　But　she　was　not　known　to　stand　in　any　one's　way。　　In　this

utter　blank　as　to　the　assignable　motive；　I；　perhaps　alone　among　the

furious　crowd；　had　a　distinct　suspicion　of　the　assassin。　　No　sooner

had　the　news　reached　me；　than　with　the　specification　of　the　theater

of　the　crime　there　at　once　flashed　upon　me　the　intellectual　vision

of　the　criminal：　the　stranger　with　the　dark　beard　and　startled　eyes

stood　confessed　before　me！　　I　held　my　breath　for　a　few　moments；　and

then　there　came　a　tide　of　objections　rushing　over　my　mind；

revealing　the　inadequacy　of　the　grounds　on　which　rested　my

suspicions。　　What　were　the　grounds？　　I　had　seen　a　man　in　a

particular　spot；　not　an　unfrequented　spot；　on　the　evening　of　the

night　when　the　crime　had　been　committed　there；　that　man　had　seemed

to　recognize　me；　and　wished　to　avoid　being　recognized。　　Obviously

these　grounds　were　too　slender　to　bear　any　weight　of　construction

such　as　I　had　based　on　them。　　Mere　presence　on　the　spot　could　no

more　inculpate　him　than　it　could　inculpate　me；　if　I　had　met　him

there；　equally　had　he　met　me　there。　　Nor　even　if　my　suspicion　were

correct　that　he　knew　me；　and　refused　to　recognize　me；　could　that　be

any　argument　tending　to　criminate　him　in　an　affair　wholly

disconnected　with　me。　　Besides；　he　was　walking　peaceably；　openly；

and　he　looked　like　a　gentleman。　　All　these　objections　pressed

themselves　upon　me；　and　kept　me　silent。　　But　in　spite　of　their

force　I　could　not　prevent　the　suspicion　from　continually　arising。

Ashamed　to　mention　it；　because　it　may　have　sounded　too　absurd；　I

could　not　prevent　my　constructive　imagination　indulging　in　its

vagaries；　and　with　this　secret　conviction　I　resolved　to　await

events；　and　in　case　suspicion　from　other　quarters　should　ever

designate　the　probable　assassin；　I　might　then　come　forward　with　my

bit　of　corroborative　evidence；　should　the　suspected　assassin　be　the

stranger　of　the　archway。



By　twelve　o'clock　a　new　direction　was　given　to　rumor。　　Hitherto　the

stories；　when　carefully　sifted　of　all　exaggerations　of　flying

conjecture；　had　settled　themselves　into　something　like　this：　　The

Lehfeldts　had　retired　to　rest　at　a　quarter　before　ten；　as　was　their

custom。　　They　had　seen　Lieschen　go　into　her　bedroom　for　the　night；

and　had　themselves　gone　to　sleep　with　unclouded　minds。　　From　this

peaceful　security　they　were　startled　early　in　the　morning　by　the

appalling　news　of　the　calamity　which　had　fallen　on　them。

Incredulous　at　first；　as　well　they　might　be；　and　incapable　of

believing　in　a　ruin　so　unexpected　and　so　overwhelming；　they

imagined　some　mistake；　asserting　that　Lieschen　was　in　her　own　room。

Into　that　room　they　rushed；　and　there　the　undisturbed　bed；　and　the

open　window；　but　a　few　feet　from　the　garden；　silently　and

pathetically　disclosed　the　fatal　truth。　　The　bereaved　parents

turned　a　revealing　look　upon　each　other's　whitened　faces；　and　then

slowly　retired　from　the　room；　followed　in　affecting　silence　by　the

others。　　Back　into　their　own　room　they　went。　　The　father　knelt

beside　the　bed；　and；　sobbing；　prayed。　　The　mother　sat　staring　with

a　stupefied　stare；　her　lips　faintly　moving。　　In　a　short　while　the

flood　of　grief；　awakened　to　a　thorough　consciousness；　burst　from

their　laboring　hearts。　　When　the　first　paroxysms　were　over　they

questioned　others；　and　gave　incoherent　replies　to　the　questions

addressed　to　them。　　From　all　which　it　resulted　that　Lieschen's

absence；　though　obviously　voluntary；　was　wholly　inexplicable　to

them；　and　no　clew　whatever　could　be　given　as　to　the　motives　of　the

crime。　　When　these　details　became　known；　conjecture　naturally

interpreted　Lieschen's　absence　at　night　as　an　assignation。　　But

with　whom？　　She　was　not　known　to　have　a　lover。　　Her　father；　on

being　questioned；　passionately　affirmed　that　she　had　none；　she

loved　no　one　but　her　parents；　poor　child！　　Her　mother；　on　being

questioned；　told　the　same　storyadding；　however；　that　about

seventeen　months　before；　she　had　fancied　that　Lieschen　was　a　little

disposed　to　favor　Franz　Kerkel；　their　shopman；　but　on　being　spoken

to　on　the　subject　with　some　seriousness；　and　warned　of　the　distance

between　them；　she　had　laughed　heartily　at　the　idea；　and　since　then

had　treated　Franz　with　so　much　indifference　that　only　a　week　ago

she　had　drawn　from　her　mother　a　reproof　on　the　subject。



〃I　told　her　Franz　was　a　good　lad；　though　not　good　enough　for　her；

and　that　she　ought　to　treat　him　kindly。　　But　she　said　my　lecture

had　given　her　an　alarm；　lest　Franz　should　have　got　the　same　maggot

into　his　head。〃



This　was　the　story　now　passing　through　the　curious　crowds　in　every

street。　　After　hearing　it　I　had　turned　into　a　tobacconist's　in　the

Adlergrasse；　to　restock　my　cigar…case；　and　found　there；　as

everywhere；　a　group　discussing　the　one　topic　of　the　hour。　　Herr

Fischer；　the　tobacconist；　with　a　long　porcelain　pipe　pendent　from

his　screwed…up　lips；　was　solemnly　listening　to　the　particulars

volubly　communicated　by　a　stout　Bavarian　priest；　while　behind　the

counter；　in　a　corner；　swiftly　knitting；　sat　his　wife；　her　black

bead…like　eyes　also　fixed　on　the　orator。　　Of　course　I　was　dragged

into　the　conversation。　　Instead　of　attending　to　commercial

interests；　they　looked　upon　me　as　the　possible　bearer　of　fresh

news。　　Nor　was　it　without　a　secret　satisfaction　that　I　found　I

could　gratify　them　in　that　respect。　　They　had　not　heard　of　Franz

Kerkel　in　the　matter。　　No　sooner　had　I　told　what　I　had　heard　than

the　knitting…needles　of　the　vivacious　little　woman　were　at　once

suspended。



〃Ach　Je！〃　she　exclaimed；　〃I　see　it　all。　　He's　the　wretch！〃



〃Who？〃　we　all　simultaneously　inquired。



〃Who？　　Why；　Kerkel；　of　course。　　If　she　changed；　and　treated　him

with　indifference；　it　was　because　she　loved　him；　and　he　has

murdered　the　poor　thing。〃



〃How　you