Doctor, his Wife, and the Clock , livre ebook

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30 pages

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	06 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819946854
Langue	English

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THE AUTONYM LIBRARY.
Small works by representative writers, whosecontributions will bear their signatures.
I.
On the 17th of July, 1851, a tragedy of no littleinterest occurred in one of the residences of the Colonnade inLafayette Place.
Mr. Hasbrouck, a well-known and highly respectedcitizen, was attacked in his room by an unknown assailant, and shotdead before assistance could reach him. His murderer escaped, andthe problem offered to the police was, how to identify this personwho, by some happy chance or by the exercise of the most remarkableforethought, had left no traces behind him, or any clue by which hecould be followed.
The affair was given to a young man, named EbenezerGryce, to investigate, and the story, as he tells it, is this:
When, some time after midnight, I reached LafayettePlace, I found the block lighted from end to end. Groups of excitedmen and women peered from the open doorways, and mingled theirshadows with those of the huge pillars which adorn the front ofthis picturesque block of dwellings.
The house in which the crime had been committed wasnear the centre of the row, and, long before I reached it, I hadlearned from more than one source that the alarm was first given tothe street by a woman's shriek, and secondly by the shouts of anold man-servant who had appeared, in a half-dressed condition, atthe window of Mr. Hasbrouck's room, crying "Murder! murder! "
But when I had crossed the threshold, I wasastonished at the paucity of the facts to be gleaned from theinmates themselves. The old servitor, who was the first to talk,had only this account of the crime to give.
The family, which consisted of Mr. Hasbrouck, hiswife, and three servants, had retired for the night at the usualhour and under the usual auspices. At eleven o'clock the lightswere all extinguished, and the whole household asleep, with thepossible exception of Mr. Hasbrouck himself, who, being a man oflarge business responsibilities, was frequently troubled withinsomnia.
Suddenly Mrs. Hasbrouck woke with a start. Had shedreamed the words that were ringing in her ears, or had they beenactually uttered in her hearing? They were short, sharp words, fullof terror and menace, and she had nearly satisfied herself that shehad imagined them, when there came, from somewhere near the door, asound she neither understood nor could interpret, but which filledher with inexplicable terror, and made her afraid to breathe, oreven to stretch forth her hand towards her husband, whom shesupposed to be sleeping at her side. At length another strangesound, which she was sure was not due to her imagination, drove herto make an attempt to rouse him, when she was horrified to findthat she was alone in the bed, and her husband nowhere withinreach.
Filled now with something more than nervousapprehension, she flung herself to the floor, and tried topenetrate, with frenzied glances, the surrounding darkness. But theblinds and shutters both having been carefully closed by Mr.Hasbrouck before retiring, she found this impossible, and she wasabout to sink in terror to the floor, when she heard a low gasp onthe other side of the room, followed by the suppressed cry:
"God! what have I done! "
The voice was a strange one, but before the feararoused by this fact could culminate in a shriek of dismay, shecaught the sound of retreating footsteps, and, eagerly listening,she heard them descend the stairs and depart by the front door.
Had she known what had occurred had there been nodoubt in her mind as to what lay in the darkness on the other sideof the room it is likely that, at the noise caused by the closingfront door, she would have made at once for the balcony that openedout from the window before which she was standing, and taken onelook at the flying figure below. But her uncertainty as to what layhidden from her by the darkness chained her feet to the floor, andthere is no knowing when she would have moved, if a carriage hadnot at that moment passed down Astor Place, bringing with it asense of companionship which broke the spell that held her, andgave her strength to light the gas, which was in ready reach of herhand.
As the sudden blaze illuminated the room, revealingin a burst the old familiar walls and well-known pieces offurniture, she felt for a moment as if released from some heavynightmare and restored to the common experiences of life. But inanother instant her former dread returned, and she found herselfquaking at the prospect of passing around the foot of the bed intothat part of the room which was as yet hidden from her eyes.
But the desperation which comes with great crisesfinally drove her from her retreat; and, creeping slowly forward,she cast one glance at the floor before her, when she found herworst fears realized by the sight of the dead body of her husbandlying prone before the open doorway, with a bullet-hole in hisforehead.
Her first impulse was to shriek, but, by a powerfulexercise of will, she checked herself, and, ringing frantically forthe servants who slept on the top-floor of the house, flew to thenearest window and endeavored to open it. But the shutters had beenbolted so securely by Mr. Hasbrouck, in his endeavor to shut outlight and sound, that by the time she had succeeded in unfasteningthem, all trace of the flying murderer had vanished from thestreet.
Sick with grief and terror, she stepped back intothe room just as the three frightened servants descended thestairs. As they appeared in the open doorway, she pointed at herhusband's inanimate form, and then, as if suddenly realizing in itsfull force the calamity which had befallen her, she threw up herarms, and sank forward to the floor in a dead faint.
The two women rushed to her assistance, but the oldbutler, bounding over the bed, sprang to the window, and shriekedhis alarm to the street.
In the interim that followed, Mrs. Hasbrouck wasrevived, and the master's body laid decently on the bed; but nopursuit was made, nor any inquiries started likely to assist me inestablishing the identity of the assailant.
Indeed, every one, both in the house and out, seemeddazed by the unexpected catastrophe, and as no one had anysuspicions to offer as to the probable murderer, I had a difficulttask before me.
I began, in the usual way, by inspecting the sceneof the murder. I found nothing in the room, or in the condition ofthe body itself, which added an iota to the knowledge alreadyobtained. That Mr. Hasbrouck had been in bed; that he had risenupon hearing a noise; and that he had been shot before reaching thedoor, were self-evident facts. But there was nothing to guide mefurther. The very simplicity of the circumstances caused a dearthof clues, which made the difficulty of procedure as great as any Iever encountered.
My search through the hall and down the stairselicited nothing; and an investigation of the bolts and bars bywhich the house was secured, assured me that the assassin hadeither entered by the front door, or had already been secreted inthe house when it was locked up for the night.
"I shall have to trouble Mrs. Hasbrouck for a shortinterview, " I hereupon announced to the trembling old servitor,who had followed me like a dog about the house.
He made no demur, and in a few minutes I was usheredinto the presence of the newly made widow, who sat quite alone, ina large chamber in the rear. As I crossed the threshold she lookedup, and I encountered a good plain face, without the shadow ofguile in it.
"Madam, " said I, "I have not come to disturb you. Iwill ask two or three questions only, and then leave you to yourgrief. I am told that some words came from the assassin before hedelivered his fatal shot. Did you hear these distinctly enough totell me what they were? "
"I was sound asleep, " said she, "and dreamt, as Ithought, that a fierce, strange voice cried somewhere to some one:âAh! you did not expect me ! ' But I dare not say thatthese words were really uttered to my husband, for he was not theman to call forth hate, and only a man in the extremity of passioncould address such an exclamation in such a tone as rings in mymemory in connection with the fatal shot which woke me. "
"But that shot was not the work of a friend, " Iargued. "If, as these words seem to prove, the assassin had someother motive than gain in his assault, then your husband had anenemy, though you never suspected it. "
"Impossible! " was her steady reply, uttered in themost convincing tone. "The man who shot him was a common burglar,and, frightened at having been betrayed into murder, fled withoutlooking for booty. I am sure I heard him cry out in terror andremorse: âGod! what have I done! '"
"Was that before you left the side of the bed? "
"Yes; I did not move from my place till I heard thefront door close. I was paralyzed by my fear and dread. "
"Are you in the habit of trusting to the security ofa latch-lock only in the fastening of your front door at night? Iam told that the big key was not in the lock, and that the bolt atthe bottom of the door was not drawn. "
"The bolt at the bottom of the door is never drawn.Mr. Hasbrouck was so good a man he never mistrusted any one. Thatis why the big lock was not fastened. The key, not working well, hetook it some days ago to the locksmith, and when the latter failedto return it, he laughed, and said he thought no one would everthink of meddling with his front door. "
"Is there more than one night-key to your house? " Inow asked.
She shook her head.
"And when did Mr. Hasbrouck last use his? "
"To-night, when he came home from prayer-meeting, "she answered, and burst into tears.
Her grief was so real and her loss so recent that Ihesitated to afflict her by further questions. So returning to thescene of the tragedy, I stepped out upon the balcony which ran infront. Soft voices instantly struck my ears. The neighbors oneither side were grouped in front of their own windows, and wereexchangi