"You may rely upon me; I will control myself."
With another pressure of the hand we separated.
As I tossed restlessly in bed I heard above me, as on the first night after the murder, the pacing to and fro of the Judge. A magnetic connection seemed to exist between us, causing me to think what he thought, and to feel what he felt. The same terrible images which banished sleep from his eyes were present before mine. I heard the church clock strike hour after hour, and only with the first glimmer of dawn did I enjoy a short slumber.
At five o'clock I awakened. My first thoughts dwelt upon what the Judge had told me the evening before. It now appeared to me in quite a different light. I was more composed. The nervous agitation which had then possessed me had vanished. I could reflect upon what I had heard. As the Judge had spoken in his excitement, what he said had such an effect upon me that it all seemed to me absolute verity without need of proof, but now doubts sprang up, and a clearer understanding demanded its rights.
Had Herr Foligno really divulged to me unvarnished facts, which convinced me of the guilt of Schorn and of his betrothed, as his accomplice? No! He had accumulated evidence as the doctor had done. The only fact was that Anna had not adhered to the truth in describing her relations with her father, and was it not natural that the daughter should try to clear her father's memory of all evil! It was very natural that her filial affection should awaken after her father's terrible death; that she should forget everything that had distressed her in their relations--his harshness, even his maltreatment--and remember only his love. And for this was she to be accused as an accomplice in an accursed crime!
I was ashamed of my credulity. Might not Herr Foligno be governed by prejudice even to misunderstanding the relations between father and daughter! A harsh word spoken by the father to Anna in his presence might appear to him an intolerable offence, while Anna might scarcely notice it.
I really could not comprehend my credulity of the previous evening, or how I could have been led by the Judge's excitement to regard as facts the arguments he had adduced.
And if Anna were not guilty, where were there grounds for suspicion of Franz Schorn? I repented having signed the deposition and having promised to be silent with regard to it; but I had given my promise, and it must be kept. Perhaps, after all, it was as well, for my report would elicit a judicial investigation of all grounds for suspicion of Franz Schorn, who could be acquitted of all imputations only by a thorough examination which could clear him from every suspicion entertained of him by his fellow-townsmen.
All these considerations soothed me. I could contemplate the expedition which I had arranged with Franz Schorn for to-day without aversion. It was rather disagreeable to know that the report signed by me was already on its way to Laibach, while I was one of a party of pleasure, all friends of the young man; but I would not ponder on this; it was irrevocable.
Soon after six o'clock I went down to the garden to take my morning cup of coffee, and there I found the Captain and Franz awaiting me to discuss the details for our excursion. Franz was full of life and animation. I had never seen him so gay, so happy. There was no trace of the sullen expression which sometimes clouded his handsome face. His morning greeting was so cordial that I felt ashamed indeed as I shook his proffered hand. This pleasant, happy young man guilty of a murder? It was folly, nay, it was wicked to hold any such idea for a minute.
He had early completed every necessary preparation for the excursion we were about to make. The Captain and I had really nothing to provide; even the magnesium wire had been bought at the druggist's. Two stout labourers, who could speak German, were ready to accompany us, each of them provided with a thick, pointed staff and a long rope, not too thick, but very strong. Half a dozen pitch torches Schorn had procured from the fire department, and a lantern for every member of the party. In addition, the men carried after us two short, strong ladders.
On the stroke of seven Herr Foligno entered the garden. He greeted Schorn politely; the Captain and myself cordially. He looked ill and worn. I had never seen his sallow features so expressionless, but his dark eyes shone with feverish excitement.
We began our walk. The people who met us looked after us in surprise as we strode through the streets of Luttach. Apparently they could not understand how two men, known to be such bitter enemies as Herr Foligno and Franz Schorn, should be walking so peaceably side by side.
At the furthest end of the town we descended to the bed of the Rusina. In early spring, when the snow melts quickly upon Nanos and when heavy rainfalls create hundreds of little brooks from the mountains, the Rusina dashes along in wild fury; but after a drought it is almost dried up, and is only a shallow rill of water trickling between the stones of its rocky bed. We could walk along it without wetting our feet. It was not very agreeable walking, but it was the nearest way to the grove, which we reached after scarcely ten minutes.
Here, in the centre of this grove, consisting of scarcely a hundred huge oaks, there is a pile of mighty rocks; large blocks, covered with luxuriant green moss, are heaped together in a confused mass, in which is an opening, black and forbidding, about the height of a man, which forms the entrance to the cave we were to explore. Here we halted and consulted. It was decided that we should enter in single file, Franz Schorn first as our guide. I was to follow him. Herr Foligno came after me, and the Captain was last. Our two porters closed the little procession. The lanterns were lighted and each of us took one.
We entered the cave, which was at first tolerably spacious; into it daylight penetrated, making a dim twilight. About four or five yards above us arched a roof of black, moist stone. The ground beneath, descending rather precipitously, was covered with small fragments of rock which had apparently fallen from the roof, loosened by the dampness. There was no trace of the beautiful stalactites for which the Adelsberg Grotto is so famous. The light of our lanterns was quite sufficient to reveal clearly the part of the cave where we stood and the path leading down to the depths. A few yards from the entrance the cave narrowed. There was room between the walls of rock for only two men to walk abreast; and indeed the walking was extremely difficult, because of the slippery scales of rock with which the floor was strewn.
Forward! We walked, or, rather, we scuffled, downwards, in danger at every step of falling on the slippery stones. After a few minutes our path grew easier; it no longer descended; although still strewn with fragments of rock, the danger of slipping was less. We had more room. The walls retreated and vanished beyond the circle of light cast by our lanterns, which could no longer illumine the roof of the cave arching above us.
"'Here it resembles a cathedral,' the Adelsberger guides would say, if they were here," said Franz Schorn with a laugh, stopping and raising his lantern. "How high this dome is I have never before with my insufficient light been able to discover, and just because I had insufficient light I ventured but little further into the cave."
"You reached an abyss which prevented your further progress; at least you told us so yesterday," said the Judge.
"True. It is only a few minutes' walk from here. If we go through the cathedral and turn a little to the left, we shall reach the only outlet which leads further among the rocks. It is a very narrow, rocky way, suddenly ending in a sheer abyss. It is for us to discover to-day whether it is possible to be lowered by a rope into its depths and to find sufficient foothold below to enable us to continue our exploration. When, four or five years ago, I last entered the cave, quite alone, I could go no further, and so I returned from this spot."
"Must we turn to the left!" asked the Judge. "You are mistaken; we must turn to the right; to the left the cave is completely blocked by a heap of rocky fragments."
Franz Schorn regarded the speaker with surprise, bethought himself a moment, and then exclaimed:
"True, you are right. I remember now that I found a heap of rocks on my left, and then turned to the right to find an outlet. But how did you know this, Herr Foligno?"
One of the two porters laughed aloud, and answered in the Judge's stead with some words in Slavonic, which seemed to surprise the Captain as well as Schorn.
"What, Herr Foligno, you were here in the cave a week ago, with Rassak, and ventured as far as the abyss, and never told us anything about it yesterday?" exclaimed the Captain.
"I told you that I had entered the cave, but had not gone far. I do not talk much of such trifles," he replied irritably, adding:
"Shall we not light a couple of torches to see how high the roof is?"
The torches were lighted, but did not suffice to reveal the height of the cave. Only when the magnesium light flamed up and cast its dazzling radiance upwards did we perceive for a few moments the rocky roof some twenty yards above us.
"This is gruesome," said the Captain, with a long breath, as the brilliant light was extinguished and the darkness around us seemed deeper and blacker than before. "We can now understand how the floor beneath our feet is so covered with fragments of rock. Evidently large pieces fall from the roof and are broken into a hundred bits below. Look, Herr Foligno; the stones just here show traces of having been but lately broken. At any minute another fragment might fall and be the death of us."
"Yes, such an exploration is not without danger," the Judge replied with a sneer. "But let us proceed, gentlemen. The shorter the time spent here beneath this roof the less danger is there that we shall be injured by a falling rock. Let us go on, in the same order as hitherto. You go first, Herr Schorn."
"Since you visited the cave only a week ago, you had better act as guide, Herr Foligno."
"No, I refuse. I expressly stated yesterday that I should be entirely guided by you, and I repeat it. Therefore, pray, Herr Schorn, go before us; I will follow with the Herr Professor."
Schorn made no further objection. We pursued our way, keeping to the right, and entered the narrow opening between the rocks, which seemed the only means by which to penetrate further into the cave. It was narrower than any path hitherto. It would have been impossible for two men to walk in it abreast, but there was more than enough room, when in single file. Our lanterns and the torches of the porters cast sufficient light to show us a gentle ascent in front and to enable us to proceed free from all risk of danger.
"We have reached the abyss," Schorn said, halting after a few moments. "Here we can go no further, and if we cannot find, after being lowered by a rope, another opening, our exploration party has reached its limits. The abyss appears to be not only sheer, but the rock upon which we stand overhangs it somewhat. I will lie flat on the ground and look down. Perhaps I shall succeed in finding an outlet, but I must have a brighter light than that of the lanterns. Give me one of the torches, Herr Professor."
A torch was passed from hand to hand; I gave it to Schorn, who laid himself flat on the ground, and, leaning over the abyss as far as possible, endeavoured to cast into it the light of the torch. As he lay there I had a view of the depths, but it gave me little hope for the continuance of our exploration. The red light of the torch was sufficient to show me a black wall rising twelve or fifteen feet on the opposite side of the abyss. It seemed to bar all progress, giving no hint of any outlet. A few feet above our heads the smoke of the torches hung in a cloud, which found no egress from the cave.
"Beneath us, scarcely twenty feet below, there is firm footing," cried Schorn, "and, if I do not mistake, the cave then leads to the right among the rocks; but I must have a brighter light."
He handed the torch back to me and took a piece of magnesium wire from his pocket. The next moment the cave as far as we could overlook it was illumined as by an electric light.
"A happy discovery; we can go on," cried Schorn, delighted, as the light was extinguished. "I can assure you, gentlemen," he said, rising, "that the first difficulty is almost without danger, and easy to overcome."
We crowded about him; even the two porters were determined not to lose a word of his description.
Beneath the overhanging rock, at a depth of scarcely fifteen or twenty feet, there was a firm footing, a platform of stone quite broad enough to give standing room for at least five or six men, and from this platform a way was distinguishable on the right through a narrow opening in the rocks.
"Now you see, Herr Foligno, I was right a week ago. You would not believe me, but so it is," exclaimed Rassak, one of the porters, exultantly, speaking German.
"Who asked your opinion!" the Judge said harshly.
"Did Rassak, then, discover the continuance of the cave?" said the Captain.
"Well, yes," the Judge replied irritably. "It seems at present that he was probably right. He lay down on the ground and let down a lantern by a rope, and then declared that the cave had a further outlet. I lay down after him and looked down, but I could see no opening. I did not believe him, and it was partly to convince myself whether or not he was correct that I offered to accompany you to-day. I could not explore it myself then; I had no rope strong enough to lower me to the platform below, which might have been done without danger."
"Not quite without danger, at least for the first to attempt it," Schorn remarked calmly, "but it is not great. It needs a little swing on the rope to reach the platform, but when one man obtains firm footing there, the rest is easy. I will be let down first, and can draw the rest toward me. The porters must stay here, that they may pull us up when we return."
"But it seems to me a very perilous undertaking," said the Captain anxiously. "We cannot expose our Herr Professor to such danger. If the rope breaks before he reaches the platform, or if he should be seized with giddiness, he would fall into a bottomless abyss."
"I will guarantee the strength of the rope," said Franz Schorn.
"And I that I shall suffer no dizziness; I do not know the sensation." I was so keen for the continuance of our exploration that I was almost irritated by the Captain's anxiety on my behalf. The danger would have to be far greater than it was to deter me from further progress. Hitherto I had found no trace of a cave beetle; there had been nothing living among the bald black rocks. Only at a greater depth could I hope to satisfy my passion for collecting.
"If the Captain thinks the danger too great, he can remain with the porters. I shall be glad to follow the Herr Professor," said the Judge; whereupon the Captain turned upon him angrily, declaring that he was not thinking of danger for himself, but for the old gentleman who was their guest in Luttach; since, however, the Herr Professor wished to go, he himself should surely not remain behind.
Thus we determined to proceed. Franz Schorn gave us the necessary directions. He wished us to put the rope around us and to hold it firmly when we were lowered. These directions were not necessary in my case; I have made use of rope so often with my guides among the glaciers, and have so frequently been let down from the rocks to obtain some rare plant, that I was quite familiar with its use. There seemed to be no possible peril here, even for Franz Schorn, for four of us would hold the rope and we could lower him very gradually for the short distance to the platform below, making any great swing of the rope impossible. The two porters could easily lower the Captain, who was to be the last of us to follow.
Schorn arranged the rope so that he could place himself in the loop; he fastened a lantern to it, and then advanced to the edge of the rocks, seated himself, and, still holding to the irregular surface he slowly lowered himself, while we, holding the rope, paid it out inch by inch. I followed him to the edge, but I did not look down, because I concentrated all my attention upon the paying out of the rope.
After scarcely a minute we heard him call from below:
"Halt! I am all right. Draw the rope up again."
I laid myself flat on the ground and looked over the edge of the platform, which was now illuminated by the lantern which Schorn held. It was light enough for me to see the young man distinctly as he stood quite comfortably not far below me. I could also discern the black opening to the right, the continuation of the cave.
"Follow me, Herr Professor," Schorn called up. "Do just as I did; there is no danger; seat yourself in the loop and as soon as you are lowered, I will drag you to me. A dozen men beside us could find room on this platform."
I did as he directed and seated myself in the loop, but as I was about to swing clear of the outer edge of the rock to follow Schorn's example, my heart suddenly gave a leap. For a moment horror overcame me as I looked into the depths below; I hesitated to cast myself loose.
"Are you afraid, Herr Professor!" The Judge stood immediately behind me, regarding me with a sneer. His eyes gleamed strangely as he leaned over me.
There is no greater folly than to expose oneself to a danger out of fear of being called a coward. I have often declared this, but at that moment, old man as I am, I committed this folly.
"Hold the rope firmly; I will let myself down," I replied.
"Have no fear, we will hold it fast."
I hovered above the abyss and was slowly lowered. I had almost reached the platform when I heard above me a strange creaking; at the next moment I knew I was falling, but a strong arm was thrown around me and Franz Schorn and I staggered and fell on the platform. Just then I heard a scream from above.
"Great God!" exclaimed the voice of the Judge. "The rope has broken; the Professor has fallen into the abyss!"
This was all the work of a moment. I tried to stand up, but I could not; my right ankle was terribly painful. Franz Schorn, who had fallen with me, was quickly on his feet.
"I never will believe that the rope broke," he whispered. He seized it and examined it by the light of his lantern on the ground; mine had been broken and extinguished in my fall.
"It was half cut through before it broke," he said in a dull tone. "That scoundrel, Foligno, has tried to plunge you into the abyss."
Hastily taking a knife from his breast pocket he cut off the end of the rope and handed it to me.
"Keep this," he whispered. "You may perhaps need it for proof that the rascal tried to murder you."
I heard his words, but I did not understand him. My thoughts were in wild confusion; I was still half stunned by my fall. Mechanically I followed his directions and put the piece of rope in my pocket. Only gradually did I clearly understand in what danger I had been, and that Franz Schorn had ventured his own life to rescue mine. It was almost a certainty that I should drag him down to the abyss, but he had seized me as I fell, and at the risk of his life had pulled me back to the platform.
"You have saved my life----"
He interrupted me. "Don't speak of it. We all help one another as well as we can. What we have to think of now is how to reach the rock above us without injury."
He suddenly paused, as from above came the voice of the Judge:
"Thank God! The accident is not so bad as I feared. I can see the Herr Professor and Herr Schorn on the platform below. Are you hurt, Herr Professor?"
"I believe my right ankle is broken," I called back.
"Good heavens! What shall we do?"
"Why, of course," Schorn replied, "you must lower the second rope to pull us up. I beg, however, that Rassak may be the first man, Bela the second, the Captain the third, and that you, Herr Foligno, do not touch the rope. It might break in your hands a second time. I will not trust you with the Herr Professor's life or my own."
The Judge made no reply. For a moment all was silent, and then the Captain called down to us:
"What nonsense you are talking, Franz! You have mortally offended the Judge. He had nothing to do with the accident. He is in despair that the Herr Professor should be injured."
"His anger is of no consequence," Franz answered. "He promised me to submit to my orders, and I insist upon his not touching the rope again."
A long discussion began. The Captain was seriously angry at the offence Franz had given to the Judge, whom he attempted to soothe, but Franz declared positively that he would wait with me on the platform for hours until Rassak could procure two other men rather than trust himself and me to a rope passing through the hands of the Judge. He said nothing of his suspicion that the rope had been partly cut through, and, therefore, the Captain thought his demand unjustifiable and prompted solely by hatred of his foe. He was indignant, but he was obliged to comply with the young man's demand, in order that I might be relieved from my most unpleasant situation as soon as possible. He promised that Rassak should be stationed close to the edge and that the Judge should take no part in the pulling up of the rope. While the Captain and Franz were discussing the matter I had examined my ankle, and, to my great joy, found that it was not broken, but had been severely sprained by my fall. It was excessively painful, but I could move it; I could even stand with Franz's assistance. Some moments passed, and then Schorn's name was called from above.
"Is that you, Rassak?"
"Yes."
"Where is the Judge?"
"Herr Foligno has gone back to the dome alone. He is to wait there until we come."
"Lower the second rope to me; I wish to examine it."
After a minute the rope hovered above us; Franz seized it, unfastened it from the other rope to which it was tied and examined it narrowly by the light of the lantern.
"It is sound and uninjured. I feared the rascal might have cut this through secretly; but he has not dared to do so. Now we can allow ourselves to be pulled up without delay."
Rassak was ordered to pull the rope up again and then to throw down to us the broken one. This was done. Franz cut a piece from the broken end with his knife and gave it to me, saying:
"Keep it with the one you have, Herr Professor."
After which he busied himself with preparations for my rescue. These he made with great care, trying the strength of the rope which he tied about me and of the loop in which I seated myself. Although I protested and declared that I could now care for myself perfectly, he used the piece of old rope to keep me steady as I ascended, holding it firmly below to prevent any swaying of the other. Thus I reached the top of the rock in safety, although my short ascent had caused almost intolerable pain in my sprained ankle, and when Rassak received me in his powerful arms above, I could not move the injured foot. I tried to stand up and to walk, but it was quite impossible. Rassak was forced to take me on his broad shoulders and carry me back to the dome. The Captain and Bela carried their lanterns in advance; without their light he could scarcely have made his way along the narrow path through the rocks. Franz was obliged to wait on the platform for some minutes before being drawn up.
We found the Judge seated on a block of stone at the entrance of the rocky way beneath the dome. He sprang up as we approached.
"Thank God, Herr Professor!" he cried, throwing his arm kindly about me for my support, as Rassak placed me on the ground. He pushed aside several large stones to make a comfortable bed for me. He even took off his coat and put it upon the rock that I might have a softer resting place. He was full of kind attention, far exceeding the Captain, who congratulated me in a few simple words and expressed his joy upon my escape; nevertheless I had a strange sensation, akin to fear, when he, with Rassak and Bela, returned through the narrow way to rescue Franz and I was left alone in the vault with the Judge. Involuntarily I put my hand in my breast pocket where was the trusty companion of all my excursions, my revolver. I could not but recall Franz Schorn's words on the platform, and the impression which they had made upon me was deepened when my hand met the small pieces of rope. I dreaded to see the fading light of the last lantern disappear in the narrow pathway. I was miserably uncomfortable in the spacious dark vault, where the light of a single lantern cast a ray of light so weak as only to enhance the black darkness of the place.
The Judge seated himself close beside me, and when the Captain vanished in the narrow path he seized my hand.
"Herr Professor," he said, modulating his voice to the lowest whisper, "I have been assailed by a horrible suspicion as I sat here. I feared I never should see you again. Was the accident which befell you occasioned by chance? If the rope was strong enough to sustain the heavy weight of Schorn, how could it break with the much lesser strain of your weight? Tell me, Herr Professor, does Franz Schorn know that you have told me of his meeting you in the forest on the day of the murder?"
"No."
"Then what I feared is but too certain. You saw him in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House on that day. The only witness against him must die. While he stood beneath us on the rocky platform he loosened the rope and cut it so that it parted as we were lowering you. We will examine the rope; there must be traces of a cut in it."
Schorn had brought against this man the very accusation which was now brought against himself. He could have had no cause for his supposition, whilst the reason adduced by the Judge was not without probability.
"Perhaps you will object," the Judge continued, "that he has saved your life; that without his aid you must have fallen into the chasm. He need not have stretched out his hand if he had wished to murder you. This thought also occurred to me, but, upon reflection, I find that my suspicion is only strengthened by your rescue. Perhaps his movement was involuntary--an impulse of the moment to seize a falling man--but, again, perhaps your rescue is only part of a cunning scheme. He makes sure that you never could decide to speak a word against the saviour of your life; he does not know that this word is already spoken. He thought, therefore, that he could save your life and yet attain his purpose without burdening his soul with a second murder. Indeed, should suspicion arise that the rope did not break accidentally, he might easily cast it upon another. Why else did he demand that I should take no part in drawing you up? He wished to arouse suspicion of me in your mind and in the Captain's. None could attach to him, were it discovered later that the rope had actually been cut, if he saved your life, and he will not fail to remind you that it was at the risk of his own. He is a thorough villain and incredibly cunning. I fear I shall have many difficulties to overcome before establishing the proof of his guilt and revealing him as the murderer of old Pollenz."
The Judge's words produced a deep impression on me. Had not everything that he set forth actually happened? One thing was certain--the rope had been cut. Whose was the blame? The Judge's--who could have no interest in plunging me into the abyss? Why should he attempt to take my life? Franz Schorn's--who had saved my life at the risk of his own? However the Judge might endeavour to disparage the danger to which he had exposed himself, I knew better. I had felt him stagger as he leaned over beyond the rock and dragged me toward him. The success of this hazardous action was due to his physical strength and good luck; it was little short of a miracle that he had not been dragged down to the depths with me. Where lay the truth? In vain I pondered; I could not fathom it.
Voices were heard coming through the narrow pathway, and the Captain, Rassak, Bela, and last of all, Schorn, appeared. Franz gave me a kindly nod; of the Judge he took not the smallest notice, but resumed his command and the guidance of the expedition. He directed the porters to strap together the ladders, of which we had hitherto made no use, and upon them placed the jackets of the men of the party, forming a litter for me. Rassak and Bela then bore me from beneath the vault to the entrance of the cave. I suffered intolerably; only when we had again entered the forest and my kind companions were able to make my litter softer with boughs and branches of trees did I find any relief from the torture I was enduring.
In this melancholy wise we returned to Luttach, and thus ended my investigation of an unexplored Ukraine cave.
I was confined to my lofty bed in my chamber in the inn for three days. The doctor insisted I must stay there with cold compresses upon my foot until the inflammation had entirely disappeared, and then a week at least must be spent in my room with the injured leg stretched out before me, nor could I dream of undertaking any further excursions until two weeks at least had elapsed.
This was a melancholy prospect. Two weeks of imprisonment in the bare, low-ceiled guest-chamber No. 2; while out of doors the sun was shining and calling me to wanderings in the forest and on the mountains. But what cannot be cured must be endured.
I could not complain of ennui. Of society I had more than enough; I sometimes longed to be alone for an hour to reflect upon my remarkable adventures, but I had visitors in unbroken succession, and until late in the evening I was not left for a moment to myself.
All the gentlemen whom I had met about the round table in the dining-room came to testify in the friendliest manner their sympathy, and to beg me to relate my adventures, while Mizka and Frau Franzka by turns saw to my comfort, attending most carefully to the compresses upon my ankle. I could not have been more kindly and attentively cared for than in the Slavonic inn in Ukraine. But it was almost too much of a good thing. Their perpetual attention became burdensome, and the constant stream of visitors wearied me. To tell the same thing over and over again was not very amusing, especially as a number of my auditors--Weber, Gunther, Meyer, Mosic, and the notary, Deitrich--did not seem to give full credence to my story; that is, with regard to my rescue by Franz Schorn. They put all sorts of questions to me with regard to what had passed on the platform of rock, questions which I could not or would not answer, for, of course, I said not a word of the rope's bearing traces of having been cut, although this seemed to be just the very point to which they wished to lead me.
Through the Clerk, Herr Von Einern, I at last learned the reason for their persistent questions. He expressed his indignation at the account which Herr Foligno had given on the evening of our adventure. It was eminently devised to arouse in his hearers a suspicion that in some manner Franz Schorn was to blame for my accident. He did not speak explicitly, but as unwilling to blame Schorn; he would leave that to me, who had sustained the injury; but in speaking thus he had contrived to increase the desire of those present to hear more.
The Captain confirmed his statement, but was indignant not only with Franz Schorn, but with the conduct of the Judge himself. He would not forgive Schorn for accusing Herr Foligno to me, apparently without any reason, while he found the revenge taken by the Judge unworthy and mean. In his opinion there had simply been an unfortunate accident; the rope had been cut by some sharp projection in the rocks; Franz had certainly risked his life to save mine, but this did not justify him in what he had said of the Judge, which made Herr Foligno the direct cause of the fall.
In the end I positively could not tell what to think of the affair. My harassing doubt was corroborated by a visit in the evening from the Judge. He had seen me during the day, but only for a few minutes at a time, to express his sympathy and to ask after my welfare, saying nothing during these short visits concerning my adventure; but in the evening he paid me a longer call, begging permission to bestow his society upon me for a while and to drink his wine in my room instead of in the dining-room below. He settled himself comfortably beside me, informing Mizka and Frau Franzka that he would assume the care of me during the evening and change my compresses. I tried to prevent this, but he would take no refusal, and rendered his services with assiduous precision. It was quite touching to see how careful he was to avoid giving me the least pain, and how he anticipated my every wish.
I could not but be grateful, but I was not comfortable in his society, for as soon as Mizka and Frau Franzka had left the room he took the opportunity to express himself most clearly with regard to our adventure and Franz Schorn. He informed me that he had received a telegram from Laibach announcing that the investigating Judge and the Attorney General would visit Luttach on the morrow to conduct personally further inquiries, desirous of hearing from my own lips the manner of my meeting with Franz Schorn on the day of the murder. He coupled this information with the desire that I should not withhold from the gentlemen what I thought with regard to Franz Schorn's connection with my accident.
When I refused point blank to do this and declared that I suspected Franz of nothing, that I was convinced that accident only had caused the breaking of the rope, he became very indignant at such ill-judged forbearance.
"I cannot understand you, Herr Professor," he said angrily. "Suspicion is almost become certainty. Schorn has betrayed himself by superfluous caution. It is a common experience among lawyers that the criminal often furnishes the clue to his discovery by excess of caution, and this has been Schorn's case. To destroy all traces of a cut in the rope he has cut off both ends of the break and thrown them away in the cave. Perhaps they can still be found; but should this not be the case, the fact of his so disposing of them tells against him. What other aim could he have in thus destroying all traces of the cut?"
"But he did not throw them away. He cut them off in my presence and gave them to me. Here they are," I replied, taking the ends of rope from my breast pocket.
I spoke and acted without thought, as I felt the moment the words were out of my mouth and I perceived their effect upon my hearer. He started from his chair as if from an electric shock and took instant possession of the ends of rope.
"He gave them to you," he cried, "and why? Ah! now I understand it all. Conscious of his guilt, he feared discovery, and bethought himself, in his over-caution, to inform you of what had been done. Suspicion must be thrown upon another, and I was that other. Tell me frankly, Herr Professor--I have a right to ask it--tell me, did he not hint to you that I had cut the rope?"
I had acted like a fool and was now painfully embarrassed. I was obliged to confess to him that his suspicion was correct. He instantly grew excessively angry.
"What doubly detestable villainy," he cried, "refinement of rascality--to throw suspicion on me and to adduce as proof the cut which his own knife had made, and which, of course, he knew well enough where to find! Of course I know that his words did not make the smallest impression on you. Nevertheless they anger me beyond expression. I did not credit even the villain that he is with such rascality, but it shall react upon himself. These two fragments shall bear witness against him. I shall give them to the Attorney General to-morrow."
"Indeed you will not," I replied firmly. "I owe my life to Franz Schorn. Without his aid I should now be lying dead in the depths of the cave. I do not know whether a knife or a sharp stone worked the mischief, but I do know that Schorn risked his own life for mine. This is solely my affair. My life was imperilled and I surely have the right to demand that no evil shall be said of him who preserved it."
"Will you deny me the right to clear myself from all suspicion? This can be done only by proving that Schorn himself cut the rope."
"No one has suspected you except Franz Schorn, and to me alone has he expressed his suspicion. I am sure that the breaking of the rope was an accident. I shall not allow suspicion to attach to any one, either to you or to Schorn. I require of you to return to me the pieces of rope and to be silent to the Attorney General concerning the whole matter; the affair concerns myself alone."
Herr Foligno made many objections to my demand. I found it difficult to soothe him; he was so indignant with Schorn for showing me the ends as proof against him. He burned with the desire for revenge for such an insult, and I succeeded only with great trouble and much entreaty in persuading him to be silent and to return to me the ends of rope.
He remained until far into the night--a civility I could easily have dispensed with. I was not comfortable in his society. I tried in vain to talk on indifferent subjects; he persisted in returning to the adventure in the cave and always with an attempt to cast further suspicion upon Schorn. His hatred for Franz and his indignation at what Franz had said to me was so great that he could think of nothing else. He would have tormented me, I believe, until daybreak with his accusations and his discussions of the matter; but at last I frankly told him that I had need of repose, and then he bade me good-night.
I had to undergo a long examination. The investigating Judge and the Attorney General came from Laibach. Immediately after receiving Herr Foligno's deposition, they determined to take the very uncomfortable journey to Luttach to hear for themselves from witnesses on the spot all that was known regarding Franz Schorn's actions and whereabouts during the last few weeks. The investigating Judge told me of this with all the courtesy of an Austrian official. With entire lack of reserve, he informed me that although Herr Foligno's carefully prepared paper was quite sufficient to attach suspicion to Schorn, it did not at all suffice to convince him of the young man's guilt. He requested me to tell everything that I knew of Schorn and to hold back nothing out of regard for the man who, as he had already heard in Adelsberg, had saved my life. It was my duty to tell not only the truth, but the whole truth.
The Judge was a handsome, kindly man, so courteous that he would not have me summoned for my examination to the court house, but took down my deposition in my room. Yet with all his amiability and in spite of the sympathy which he apparently felt for Franz Schorn, his inquiries were frightfully searching; he forced me to tell him more than I wished to.
I had intended at this hearing to confine myself to what I had dictated in the Judge's deposition, but I could not keep my resolution. When the Judge asked me if Franz Schorn, of whom I had seen much in the last few weeks, had never told me his reason for avoiding me in the forest, I could not reply in the negative, and I was forced to assent, and to relate the conversation I had had with Franz and his betrothed. I could not conceal that each had requested me to say nothing of the meeting in the forest. Such an interview as this of mine with the Judge is very curious. The witness knows that every word he utters is upon his oath, and also that it may decide the fate of a fellow mortal. Every consideration vanishes before such a responsibility, and I could have none for the Judge. I had to acknowledge to my examiner that Anna and Franz had given as a reason of the request for my silence that the Judge's hatred of the young man was so intense that he would surely use my meeting with Franz as evidence against him.
The Judge shook his head thoughtfully on hearing this; he evidently did not credit their explanation. Had I cherished no suspicion? Had it never occurred to me as odd that Franz Schorn should have wounded his hand? I could not deny that such a suspicion had occurred to me, but I could declare with a good conscience that it had vanished entirely after I had come to know Schorn better.
What was the reason that after this first awakening of suspicion I had not informed the authorities of my meeting with the young man in the neighborhood? Why had I withheld this information until the day before yesterday? This keen questioning forced me to an exact reply. I told of how I had desired to give information immediately of my meeting with Schorn, and I gave Herr Foligno's reason for begging me not to insert it in an official deposition, and as a natural consequence I related the reasoning by which he had induced me to render to him my official statement.
"Strange; very strange," said the Judge, more to himself than to me. "Herr Foligno has allowed personal considerations, personal feelings to influence his official action. Very unjustifiable!"
He was silent for a while and then questioned me further with continued and frightful thoroughness. I did not wish to speak of the adventure in the cave, but when the interview was over, I had told everything that I knew about my fall, my rescue, and the accusations made by Schorn and the Judge with regard to the cut ends of rope. After the official paper had been read to me and I had signed it, the Judge offered me his hand.
"Your testimony has been of the greatest importance, Herr Professor," he said gravely. "You have so far confirmed suspicion against Schorn that the young man's arrest is an unavoidable necessity, but at the same time you have proved to me that an influence has been at work in this unfortunate affair which I must investigate further. Whatever may be the true history of the strange adventure in the cave, Schorn undoubtedly saved your life and you owe him gratitude for it. If you wish to testify this, you can do so by preserving profound silence with regard to your testimony of to-day as well towards the friends as to the foes of Herr Schorn, and, of course, to Judge Foligno. He has nothing to do further with the official investigation; he must in his turn appear as a witness, and it is especially desirable for the establishment of the truth that your testimony with regard to him should remain unknown. May I hope that you will promise me inviolable secrecy towards Herr Foligno, Herr Professor?"
"Certainly, most willingly; but what am I to reply when Herr Foligno questions me? He wanted to send you an account of the adventure in the cave, and only desisted at my express desire."
"Do not let this consideration influence you. It is of the greatest importance in the investigation that the Judge should know nothing of your testimony with regard to the adventure in the cave. If he asks you, tell him the simple truth; it is unlawful for witnesses to discuss together their testimony, and he is henceforth a witness like yourself. Tell him that I told you this, and that I enjoined it upon you to refuse even the slightest information with regard to your testimony."
With this counsel, which I determined to follow implicitly, the Judge took his leave. He left me in an indescribable agitation, which increased when the District Judge paid me a visit immediately after. He came, as he told me frankly, to learn how the investigating Judge had received my testimony. When I told him of the promise which I had given, he was greatly surprised.
"I! A witness like all the rest?" he cried indignantly. "These government officials are so puffed up with pride and self-conceit that they don't know what they are about. They owe to me, to my activity, to my research, every ray of light cast upon the darkness of the crime, and now they push me aside, rob me of the reward of my discovery, and regard me as a simple witness; but they shall not succeed; I will not submit; and you, too, Herr Professor, you need not feel yourself bound by a promise which no one had a right to exact from you; you may without fear tell me anything that you desire."
"I do not know whether I should be justified in doing so or not," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "I do not know the Austrian laws, but I am well aware that if I have undertaken no legal responsibility, a moral one rests upon me not to speak of my testimony after the promise which I have given. You must pardon me, Herr Foligno, if I preserve absolute silence."
He looked at me angrily and evilly. "As you please; I shall make no further request of you," he said after a little pause. "One thing I have a right to demand of you in a matter which concerns me personally. Have you----"
"I regret that I can make no reply to any question, whatever it may be. My promise to be silent was given unconditionally."
He cast at me a glance full of rage and left the room without saying farewell. I had deeply offended him by my persistent refusal. I sat alone with a heavy heart, discontented with myself. I had offended the man who had been so kind and courteous to me during my stay in Luttach, and I had also placed him in a perilous position by my testimony to his superior. This was a very disagreeable thought. He was not aware of it, but when he learned it, would he not have a right to be angry with me and to accuse me of a breach of confidence? I had strengthened suspicion against Franz Schorn, the saviour of my life. It was my fault that the young man was now threatened with the loss of his liberty. I was provoked with myself for my imprudent and frank expressions, and yet again, when I reflected on the late examination and the questioning I had undergone, I could not have answered differently in accordance with the truth. I had surely only fulfilled my duty as a witness. In the deepest anxiety and with torturing impatience I awaited further developments. It was desperately hard to lie there and have cold bandages on my sprained ankle. I would have given anything to be able to do something, or that the visitors whom I had found so tiresome yesterday would return to-day, but I was, and remained, alone, confined to my bed.
Two hours passed. At last quick footsteps approached my door. Mizka entered breathless, her cheeks crimson, her eyes glowing, to tell me of what was the talk at present of all Luttach. Franz Schorn was the murderer of old Pollenz. The gentlemen from Laibach had been searching Schorn's house at his farm outside the town, and had found quantities of money, banknotes, and stock, and government bonds and other papers of value, all the wealth of the murdered man. Nevertheless Franz had denied everything, declaring that he was innocent, but his brazen falsehood had done him no good; he had been arrested, his hands fettered, and thus manacled had been brought between two gendarmes to Luttach. As he passed the house of the doctor, his betrothed was sitting at the window. She had seen him and had rushed down into the street. She had embraced him before everybody--he, the murderer of her father! The gendarmes were obliged to unclasp her arms. She had not wept a tear; she had looked up at him with sparkling eyes when the gendarmes bore him away.
"Do not despair, Franz," she had called after him. "God will not suffer the innocent to be condemned."
Then she had quietly gone with the doctor, who led her back into the house. Franz, however, had walked on between the gendarmes, his eyes cast gloomily on the ground. He had replied not a word to the abuse which was showered on him from all sides.
"Murderer!" "Dog of a German!" and other insulting epithets had been hurled after him by an increasing crowd of common people. He did not seem even to hear them. The people were so excited against him, so infuriated that the gendarmes had the greatest trouble in shielding him from their attack, and could hardly have succeeded in doing so if the Judge himself had not protected him from a couple of savage fellows, two labourers who had been dismissed from Schorn's farm and would gladly have revenged themselves upon their former master for their dismissal. By earnest admonition and threats of punishment the Judge had succeeded in quieting the mob, assuring the people that the murderer would not escape justice. He accompanied the prisoner to the court house, receiving no thanks from him for his protection. Not a word did Franz address to him.
Upon an order from Herr Foligno, Herr Gunther provided a vehicle and horses, and, accompanied by the two gendarmes, bore off the manacled prisoner. The Judge said he would be taken to prison in Laibach and kept there until the court assembled, when he would be certainly tried as a murderer and hanged.
All this Mizka detailed to me in the greatest agitation. Evidently she felt much satisfaction in the discovery of the murderer, and that it should be precisely Franz Schorn, whom every one hated, who was now delivered over to the law. Not a word of sympathy did the girl, usually so good-humoured, have for the unfortunate man; not a doubt of his guilt stirred within her; with a triumphant smile she left me after she had told her news.
"The voice of the people is the voice of God," the Judge had once said. The doctor had replied, "The people's gossip is the voice of the devil." Was the Judge now proved to be right? The proof of Schorn's guilt seemed to grow clearer, and yet, strangely enough, my doubt of it grew stronger with every hour. My reason told me that there could be no room for doubt, now that upon searching his house the booty had been discovered, but my heart rebelled against even this proof. I felt for the first time that I had taken more than a fleeting interest in the young man, that there had been between us a heartfelt sympathy which forbade me in the face of all proof yet adduced, to believe in the possibility of his guilt.
I was not long left to my melancholy reflections. A visitor interrupted them. The Burgomaster came, not only to inquire after my welfare, but to tell me of the discoveries made with regard to Schorn and of all that had been going on in the town while I lay bedridden. He had not yet left me before another visitor appeared, and he was followed by a third and a fourth. All the evening cronies of the round table made up for their absence in the morning, and through the entire afternoon I was not again alone. All my visitors brought melancholy confirmation of what Mizka had told me. Even the Captain and the Burgomaster were now convinced of Schorn's guilt, and acknowledged their conviction openly. The search in his house had brought much to light; so much money had been found that it was impossible to believe Franz had come by it honestly. His very conduct told against him--his bare-faced denial, as well as his unbroken silence when no credit was given to his words. There was but one opinion as to his guilt, and also as to the behaviour of the Judge. Even the Judge's opponents declared that Franz owed his escape from the indignant mob to his magnanimous protection. There was also but one voice with regard to the conduct of the Laibach court. It had been admirable, particularly that of the investigating Judge, who in a single day had discovered every particular concerning Schorn's life during the last few weeks. Almost all the gentlemen and a number of other people besides, as well as Bela and Rassak, had been examined by him. The officials had said nothing of the result of their evidence, and had enjoined the strictest silence upon the witnesses, who, however, were at liberty to declare that they considered Franz Schorn guilty, and they did so. The Clerk alone, Herr von Einern, prudently withheld his opinion in the matter.
Did the doctor also believe in Franz Schorn's guilt? He and the Judge were the only ones who paid me no visit on this day. The Judge probably could not forget my refusal to answer his questions, and was still offended. I was at heart very glad that he did not come. His visit could have given rise only to unpleasant discussions; but the doctor I should like to have seen, partly to obtain medical advice for the night, and partly to learn his opinion of the discoveries concerning Schorn. My wish was fulfilled late in the evening, when it was nearly nine o'clock. The doctor came, but he was not alone. To my great surprise he was accompanied by Anna Pollenz. My astonishment when I saw the lovely Anna enter the room on the arm of her old friend must have been mirrored in my face, for Anna blushed, and the doctor, with his characteristic short laugh, which I was always glad to hear, said:
"You wonder at this strange visit so late in the evening, Herr Professor. Well, you are right. This little girl might as well have come to you to-morrow morning, at a more fitting time; but she gave me no rest until I complied with her wish and brought her to you. If I had not consented she might perhaps have come all alone, and have given occasion for all sorts of gossip in Luttach. The entire population of the town has run mad; even the most sensible are infected with the nonsense which is heard on all sides. I could not have believed it, but since Franz's arrest and removal to Laibach, even the Captain and the Burgomaster have lost faith in him and consider him guilty, and yet everything adduced against him is thorough, unmitigated bosh. Not a word of it is true. The gentlemen from Laibach are principally to blame, with their arrest. They would hardly have proceeded to such extremities if the Judge had not taken care that they should hear from all sides the falsehoods invented by himself. This poor little girl has had a frightful day. Not only has her Franz been arrested--that is not the worst, for he will very soon be free again--but all the world, with the exception of the Clerk and myself, believe in Franz's guilt, and people are not ashamed to declare this openly. This makes my little Anna desperate. 'The Herr Professor, who loves Franz so much, cannot think him guilty,' she said, and insisted upon coming to you. I could not but do as she asked, and here we are. Well, perhaps it is all right; the poor child will not speak here to deaf ears, and will be soothed to see that every one does not consider Franz a murderer and thief. Sit down, my child, here in this chair, and pour out your heart to the Herr Professor. He will listen to you kindly."
I had been observing Anna during this long introduction. Her colour changed from red to pale and then to red again as the old doctor continued. Her eyes sparkled as she turned to me, and she gazed at me with an imploring expression in them. She was wonderfully lovely. My heart gave a throb. Was I altogether free from blame?
Anna seated herself at her old friend's bidding beside my bed and gazed at me with a long, searching look in her dark eyes, as if to read in my face the possibility of my thinking her Franz guilty.
"You cannot mistrust him, Herr Professor," she said, "he has such a regard for you, and he saved your life."
There was not much logic in these words, but they made me ashamed of myself nevertheless. Franz could not be guilty unless she were his accomplice, and I had almost believed in his guilt. I could not endure the look of those pure, clear eyes; my own dropped before them. I was ashamed.
"If all the rest think him guilty," she continued in a tone of firm conviction, "you cannot. You believe in him, and you must feel it your duty to do everything you can to prove his innocence, for he saved your life. Therefore I come to you; I wished to speak to you before to-morrow. I shall sleep quietly, for I know that you will stand by me. Franz told me yesterday evening that the Judge had tried to take your life; that he is your worst enemy. You will counsel me truly when I have confided to you a secret which I have kept until now, a suspicion which I have not ventured to utter even to my dearest friend and relative."
"Speak, dear child," I replied, taking her hand and pressing it cordially. "I assure you that I have no dearer wish than to establish the innocence of the saviour of my life."
"I know it and will trust you," she replied frankly. "You and my kind friend, the doctor, both of you shall counsel me," she continued, clasping my hand in one of hers and extending the other to the doctor.
"What do you mean, you strange child?" the doctor cried. "If you have a secret upon your soul, you ought to have told me of it long ago. If you needed counsel, you could always have had it from me."
"I did not dare to. Franz forbade me. Franz himself did not believe me until yesterday evening. He is innocent. He always said that my fear of Herr Foligno and my detestation of him misled me."
"Of whom are you speaking, child!" asked the doctor.
Instead of answering, Anna turned to me.
"When you reached the Lonely House on that terrible day, Herr Professor, did you not see in its neighbourhood another man beside Franz?" she asked.
"No. No one."
"I did not mean near the house itself, but on the upper path, the one leading along the rocks to Luttach?"
"I saw no one there either."
"You did not see him? I am sorry. Franz was sure yesterday that you did."
"But who in all the world should the Professor have seen!" asked the doctor curiously.
"The Judge," Anna replied. "I was sure I saw him, but I would not say so decidedly, and Franz, until yesterday, thought I might be mistaken and would not allow me to found an unjust suspicion upon an uncertain fact."
The doctor was as astonished and startled as was I by Anna's words. He desired to know more from her, and when I begged the young girl to give us her full confidence and to tell us all that she knew and believed, she yielded to our request and related what had lain so long upon her heart.
When on that dreadful day Anna had left home and was going down the path with her old Johanna to Luttach, she looked up by chance where the oaks grew thin and saw on the upper pathway a man approaching the Lonely House. She thought she recognized the Judge, but she could not be certain, for she had seen the figure only for a moment and had taken no trouble to recognize it, since she attached no importance to what she saw. The Judge had often gone to her father and had usually taken the upper pathway, wherefore she did not think of it again. Only upon hearing the terrible news of the murder of her father was the strange suspicion suddenly aroused within her that the Judge was the murderer, and this suspicion had been gradually confirmed. To hardly one other human being except to his friend the Judge, would her father have opened the locked front door. While he was alone he would have admitted no other. The Judge had known that her father had large sums of money in the house and was quite familiar with the place where they would be found.
"But had I a right upon such slight grounds to found a suspicion of a respectable man? I asked myself," Anna proceeded. "I answered no, but in spite of this 'no' I could not combat my thoughts, and it was most terrible for me that I myself was partly to blame for my father's death if my suspicion were correct. The day before the Judge had come to visit my father, and had not found him at home. My father had left word, however, that he would soon return, and I thought I ought to tell this to the visitor because it might have provoked my father to know that I had turned away his friend. The Judge then begged my permission to wait, and when I gave it reluctantly, he sat down by me in my room and began a conversation. During this conversation I told him that my father had gone to Luttach to get papers of value from the post. He would not send old Johanna because the sum in question was too large to be entrusted to so old a woman. The Judge knew also from me that my father had much money in the house, and that I was going on the following day to visit my Aunt Laucic in Luttach, when Johanna would accompany me, so that after eleven o'clock he might see my father alone. All this I told him, and it all recurred to my mind. I had myself told the murderer when his victim would be alone and when he could commit the deed."
In her distress Anna went on to say that she did not venture to mention her suspicion to the Captain--he was a friend of the Judge's--and only to her betrothed, from whom she kept no secrets, did she tell what was in her mind. He begged her, however, not to confide in any other human being. Franz declared that the Judge was not capable of such villainy. He tried to prove to her that her suspicions were groundless. "Does not he often climb about the rocks?" he asked. "Even had he been in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House, that ought to be no ground of suspicion against him, for I myself was met by the Herr Professor in the forest, as I was prowling about in hopes of meeting you." When her lover said this, Anna was seized with a dreadful anxiety lest he might really be suspected, and Franz, too, could understand that he was in peril. He knew how he was disliked, and how any opportunity would be seized to do him harm.
Franz had insisted, however, that the Judge was incapable of the murder, and he had forbidden Anna to say one word further upon the subject. "Because he is my enemy," he told her; "because he is always circulating damaging reports of me behind my back, we must take care not to be unjust towards him." He had spoken thus until yesterday, but when he returned from the expedition to the cave and told Anna of his adventure there, he had suddenly changed his opinion with regard to what she had always thought. "It is beyond doubt," he said, "that the Judge cut the rope. What reason could he have for such an act! He wished to plunge the Professor into the abyss. I am now convinced that the Professor saw him also in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House. You were not deceived when you recognized him on the upper pathway. He fears that the Professor may betray him, and wishes to put so dangerous a witness out of the way. There could be no other reason for his infamous attempt upon the life of the kind old man, whose friend he pretends to be. He planned a murder, and now I can believe also that he is the murderer of your father. Let him take care; I shall speak to the Professor. I will tell him of your suspicion; he will tell me whether he saw the Judge that day." But Franz soon after was arrested and Anna felt it her duty to do what he had wished to do.
"That is why I am come to you, Herr Professor," she concluded; "you must counsel me. You must help me to discover the real criminal and to set an innocent man at liberty."
While Anna had been speaking, the doctor, who had also seated himself beside my bed, had been continually getting up and sitting down again, possessed by a feverish restlessness, although listening in silence to every word spoken by the young girl. Now that Anna had finished, he exclaimed:
"Do you want to drive two old men crazy with your deuce of a story? Child, have you had such thoughts in your head and heart for weeks and never said a word of them? Think of what might have been done in those weeks! Think of how suspicion might have been turned in other directions! You are sure, Herr Professor, that you did not see the Judge on the rocky pathway?"
"I am sure of it."
"But may he not have been there without your seeing him, or are you sure that he was not there?"
"I believe that he was there."
You must help me!"You must help me!"
"And what reason have you for your belief? Out with it, Herr Professor! The scales are falling from my eyes. I begin to see clearly. This deuce of a girl has enlightened my stupidity, but what is the use of my seeing? Franz and the child have both shown confidence in you, and you must justify it. Out with what you know without any reserve!"
He was right; I could not be silent. The half promise which I had once given to the Judge to protect him from any chaffing to which he might be subjected with regard to the pocket handkerchief found where it had been could not bind me. I told of my finding the bloody handkerchief and of the Judge's explanation.
"It is he! It is he and no other!" exclaimed the doctor, quite beside himself. "Did I not always say that the murderer must have been an intimate friend of the old man? Oh, blind fool that I have been! Why did I not think of him, when for two weeks he wore a black glove on his right hand? He had good reason to wish to see you vanish in the abyss. You, who could bring such evidence against him. And you fell into his trap, and have been silent all this while, without harbouring any suspicion of him! For shame, Herr Professor! No, you need not be ashamed of yourself, you kind, old, unsuspicious man; but I could tear my hair for being such a fool and letting him lead me by the nose as he has done."
"Are you sure now that you are not deceiving yourself?" I asked very gravely. My heart was beating violently. There is something fearful in such a suspicion. Suddenly as it had arisen, it had now entire possession of me; but had I not entertained the same, and perhaps with more reason, of Franz Schorn? Could I trust myself since I had once deceived myself?
No such reflections troubled the doctor:
"I am so convinced," he said, clapping his hands as if in triumph, "that I would myself condemn the fellow to be hanged, if it lay in my province to do so. Hanged he shall be, I promise you, little girl, and we will take your Franz in triumph from the prison in Laibach and carry him home. How it is to be done, I do not see at present; but, rely upon it, I will do it. I will follow the murderer's tracks like a bloodhound. He has no idea that he is suspected, and that I have discovered his plots. He shall find it out, but only when we are taking Franz from prison in Laibach. Until then not a word to anybody, Herr Professor."
"Is it not our duty to inform the court in Laibach of what we suspect and of our grounds for doing so?"
"Not a word in that quarter. With all due reverence for the gentlemen in Laibach, the Judges and the Attorney General; before they can make up their minds to believe that a colleague, a District Judge, is a common murderer and thief, the proofs must be as clear as daylight. Only when we deliver him over to them, and they must do their part, can we be sure of them. I would sooner confide in our Clerk; he would throw all forbearance to the winds; but should we admit him to our confidence now, we should be placing him in a very embarrassing position, for the District Judge is, after all, his chief. Therefore, not a word, Herr Professor, until we have further proofs against the scoundrel. Now that we are on the scent, it will, I hope, not be long."
I was obliged to admit that the doctor's plan was the right one, and my admission flattered him.
"Do you not remember how day before yesterday evening the Judge said with a sneer, 'A great criminal lawyer is lost in you, doctor'? I will prove to him that he was right. Only trust me, Herr Professor; you shall not repent it. But be sure to follow a piece of advice which I must give you. Remember that it is to the Judge's interest to be rid of you; therefore, beware of him. It will do no harm to have your revolver where you can reach it in a moment, day or night."
I promised to follow his advice. We talked on for half an hour very pleasantly. The doctor was in the best humour in the world, and the charming little Anna was now so full of hope for a speedy reunion with her Franz that she almost forgot her grief at his imprisonment. She was indeed a lovely child, and as she talked on so heart-free and confidentially with us two old men, I was really in love with her myself. Upon their departure the doctor promised me that he would allow me to leave my bed on the following day, and Anna promised to pay me repeated visits so long as I was confined to my room. Thus we parted in the most friendly manner. The doctor turned as he was about to close the door behind him and said:
"Do you know, Herr Professor, what comforts me in this cursed affair?"
"What?"
"That Foligno is no Slav, but an Italian. Believe me, a Slav would be incapable of such villainy. Good-night, Herr Professor."