The tell-tale watch (Der lebende hat recht.) A novel

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Chapter 1

“ Watchman ! Watchman !”

Fearfully the call re-echoed through the silent winter night, but often as it was repeated, it did not reach the ears of the man in his thick cloak, who was leaning against one of the tall stone pillars that formed the entrance to a small garden. Unmindful of the constant downpour of raindrops, mingled with snowflakes, he seemed to be able to sleep in a standing posture, for he never stirred.

“ Watchman ! Watchman !” the call came again ; it sounded nearer and clearer.

The next moment a tall man, also wrapped in a heavy cloak, came with a powerful but elastic step down the aristocratic, quiet Neander Street, in Seaton, a suburb of Cologne, virtually a part of the great city. He was evidently greatly excited, and looked on either side to see if somewhere help might be attainable. Now he turned into Louis Street, and here he discovered the watchman who, overcome by sleep, had sunk down at the foot of the pillar.

“ Watchman ! Watchman !” he shouted. “ Don’t you hear?”

“Thunder and lightning! Don’t I hear? Can’t a man take his little nap undisturbed ?” growled the sleeper, stretching his stiffened limbs. Then he passed his thick fur glove over his eyes, and looking around, still half dazed, he continued : “ I whistled at one o’clock, as is my duty, and it can’t be much more now 1”

The other man had, in the meantime, come close up to him. His broad fur collar, however, covered his face so completely that the watchman, still but half awake, could see but little, even if the rain and snowflakes had not made the night too dark to see anything.

“ I did not ask you what time it is,” said the gentleman, who was evidently anxious to get away, “ but a great misfortune seems to have happened. In Neander Street, near a newly-built house, there is a man lying — dead, I think. I saw him as I passed by and called for you. You had better go to look. It may be a bad accident !”

“ In Neander Street?” asked the man, now fully awake.

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“Yes, yes! Near the corner! You cannot miss him !”

“A man, you say, and at this hour?” asked the watchman, eying the stranger suspiciously. “A man unconscious in the snow ? Ah ! dare say he is drunk !”

“ No, I fear something has happened there!” said the gentleman, as he moved away. “ I have done my duty. Make haste to do yours now !”

“ You had better come along with me. How can I find anything in this darkness?”

“ I have no time ; besides, you cannot miss it ; close by the new building a lantern is hanging, and it shines right down upon the man in the snow,” and then the stranger, who evidently belonged to the upper classes of society, hastened away.

The man looked after him, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. “ I certainly had fallen asleep and dreamed I was at home, and mother was — and now I must trot. It is weather for dogs and cats, but not for honest men. It is raining and snowing at once — well, it will be a nice state of things to-morrow morning !”

He warmed his feet by stamping violently, and then set out for Neander Street, turning the corner. At once he saw the miserable, dim, flickering oillamp. As he approached he saw how the raindrops were unceasingly dashing against the sides of the lamp, while the snowflakes hugged the panes for a while, till they melted and fell to the ground.

“Here is the new building!” he murmured to

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himself and opened his eyes wide, “ but 1 see no man lying here. There is nothing here!”

Two, three times he walked up and down before the unfinished building, which was under roof, but still encased in its scaffolding, and diligently looked around.

“ Eh ! Has anybody fallen down here?” he cried hoarsely. No answer came, although he repeated his call ; the echo of his own voice was all that came back from the empty shell of the building.

“A blackguard of a fool !” he exclaimed, in very bad humor, “ he comes from his punch-bowl and his merry company, while we poor devils have to walk up and down the empty streets all night long. Little does such a man know how tired we feel 1”

Thus growling and scolding he slowly returned to his post. Carefully wrapped up in his warm cloak, he leaned against the same familiar stone pillar, that sheltered him a little from the biting North wind ; after awhile his head sank mechanically, lower and lower, and soon he was nodding again, overcome with drowsiness.

Gradually the rain ceased, but now the snowflakes came down, denser and denser, as the pale light in the East proclaimed the early dawn; but little of the snow remained. From afar the regular strokes of a church bell announced the hours; it struck five and no one yet stirred; the watchman was still standing and nodding at his post.

Slowly and wearily the gloaming increased; in the trembling twilight the snowflakes looked unnat-

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u rally large ; and a raven who had roosted in one of the old trees, rose croaking, and with heavy wings sailed away in search of a warmer resting-place.

Now the watchman stirred; he beat his breast with his arms to start the sluggish blood into activity ; then he yawned. “What a foolish trick that was in the night!” he said, as he remembered the warning of the unknown man, which turned out to have had no foundation. “ A man, he said, was lying unconscious in the snow. This is a cursed cold, and, to be sure, just as I thought, as smooth and slippery as a mirror — however — I dare say, I had better — in this weather — yes, I ’ll have to make the rounds. If the captain finds out that I have not been around once to-night, — there will be the Devil's Tattoo !”

With cautious steps he walked down the street till he reached the corner, and here he turned into Neander Street. It was a street like many others. The tremulous twilight showed here and there elegant villas. In the gardens that separated them from the. road cypress trees were growing ; the snowladen branches hanging sadly down to the ground. Statues here and there stood shivering on their marble pedestals, and a pretty little group, representing Hans and Gretchen under an umbrella, which ordinarily served as a fountain, now looked absolutely suffering in this fiercely cold weather.

Once more the watchman was standing in front of the new building; the lamp had long since succumbed to the dawning light.

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“ There is no trace here of anything that could have happened,” said the man, looking at a clear space, where the snow had apparently been swept away for some purpose. Unconsciously his eyes followed the tracks, which continued into the new building, that was but imperfectly protected by a few loose planks. One of these looked as if it had been removed. As he drew nearer he noticed a tall gray hat with a mourning band, lying close by the fence, in an opening which no doubt was intended to become a show-window.

“ By the great Satan ! This looks after all as if something had happened !” he cried, and picked up the hat, which was new and apparently uninjured. Then he bent over the window-frame to look inside.

Instantly he started back, let the hat drop from his trembling hands, and his weather-beaten, hard and rugged face looked as if he had been frightened unto death. “All Holy Spirits bless me!” he exclaimed, and then stared once more down into the deep excavation.

The morning light was barely strong enough to let him recognize the form of a man, who was lying stretched out at full length and motionless, on the ground, covered with blood.

“ Great Heavens I What a calamity 1 My friend, if you have any life left in you, here is somebody !” he cried, and then he was frightened by the echo of his own voice, which alone broke in upon the uncanny silence. “ He has had enough,” he continued ; “ it is no use to try to help that man !” and retreated

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into the street, casting anxious and bewildered glances at the darkness below.

Then he started on a fast trot. “ I must report this at once ! The stranger was right after all ! The devil ! why did 1 not look more closely I Well, a man cannot be in two places at once ! Our duties are hard enough, and wages are wretched low !”

When he reached the nearest police-office, where he had to make his report, he candidly confessed that he had not believed the stranger, because he thought he was trying to “fool” him, and besides “ walking on the slippery ice is mighty dangerous for an elderly man,” he added.

At once the matter was reported to Headquarters in the city proper, while two policemen were dispatched with the watchman to the place where the dead man was lying.

The day promised to be a severe winter day, darkened by dense snow-clouds and swept over by fierce blasts and heavy, driving snow storms. A sleigh came dashing up, and several men got out before the unfinished house. One of them, a tall, intelligent looking man of some thirty years, whose rosy face was set in a frame of a full black beard, approached one of the policemen, and said : “ I am Mr. Molitor, Commissary of Police ; is the Justice here ?”

“ No,” replied the man ; “ he has been here and is to be sent for when wanted.”

“ Well, then, let one of you go for him !” ordered the Commissary, and turning to the watchman, he

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asked him: “You made the first report, did you not ?”

The watchman nodded, and then most circumstantially narrated everything; dwelling very fully upon the hardships of his duty and the self-sacrifice he had made on this occasion.

The Commissary ordered the hat to be carefully laid aside, and then, taking a step nearer to the place where the dead man was lying, he bent over the opening.

“ The poor man has fallen from a considerable height,” he said, drawing back again ; “from what 1 see, it was not an accident, for the wall here is three feet high and 'a man cannot well fall over it into the cellar; besides, the building seems to have been protected by planks.”

“ That is so. Commissary,'” said the watchman.

“ Last night it was all in order ; I can vouch for that.”

An elderly man, who wore spectacles, and who had come in the same carriage with the Commissary, now approached the group, and said :

“ It seems to me advisable that we should all of' us get down into the cellar, to ascertain the injuries received by the unfortunate man. I have an appointment in court at half-past ten and cannot stay long.”

“Certainly, Doctor,” said the Coroner; “we will do at once what you wish.” Then he sent for a ladder and had it put down inside of what was to be a show-window.

In the meantime the Justice had also come and now joined the others.

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The Commissary was the first on the ladder. With youthful, elasticity he descended quickly, while the Justice and the Coroner followed more carefull}'. The space below appeared littered up with building material of all kinds. Already, while getting down, the Commissary had pointed at spots here and there, saying :

“Here is blood and here again. The poor man, in falling, must have knocked against some projections in the wall.” When he reached the bottom, his eye fell upon a number of matches, that had been used and lay scattered about. “ They look as if they had been used quite recently, in fact not many hours ago — can it be that they were the dead man’s property ?”

The Coroner, who had at once gone up to the dead body, made no answer. “ That is out of the question,” he said, after a long pause. “ That man has used no matches down here ; just look at these fearful, perfectly heartrrending wounds!”

“ Is the man surely dead?” asked the Commissar}', as he also came to look at the corpse.

The coroner merely nodded while kneeling down cautiously by the dead man. “Some hours!” He then said, “ The rigor mortis is plainly visible. The injuries are simply fearful! The whole skull is crushed and the brain is scattered all over the cellar. He must have fallen with tremendous force,” he added, pointing at the back of the head of the man, who was lying on his face. Then he gave orders to have the body turned, noticing at the time

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that the blood-bespattered clothes showed the victim to have belonged to the upper classes of society.

At the moment when the pale, fearfully disfigured face of the black-bearded man became visible, the watchman, who had remained standing on one of the upper rungs of the ladder, uttered a short cry of horror.

All faces were instantly turned up at him.

“Well? Do you know 'the man?” asked the Commissary.

“ 1 do,” replied the man, who seemed to be beside himself. “ I cannot be mistaken ! That is Wigan, the great banker. That villa over there is his ; he lives there in the summer. Oh, what a calamity !”

“ Banker Wigan,” asked the Commissary, frowning darkly. “ The man who has the great banking-house in Kaiser Street?”

“ Exactly,” answered the watchman.

After a long pause the Justice said : “ It is probably an accident.”

The Coroner shrugged his shoulders. He had carefully examined, first the dead man himself, and then the spots of blood that adhered in places to the wall-projections. “ The position of the body is a very peculiar one,” he continued, “ and all the circumstances lead me to the impression that the poor man cannot have accidentally fallen into the cellar. First of all : How did he get here, inside of the planks, with which the place was fenced in ? Then, a falling man invariably stretches out his arms to

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protect himself ; while this man is lying on his face, with his hands under him — and yet his face is not injured as one would expect ! He evidently fell first on the back of his head and literally smashed it, as you see. I am inclined to think a dead man was thrown down into the cellar.”

He paused a moment, looking intently at the face of the dead ma

“ This is strange indeed !” he then added, in an undertone. “ He has evidently been shamefully ill-treated while yet alive.”

All the bystanders started once more and the excitement grew higher and higher.

“ Why I think so, you ask,” he said to the Justice, who had instantly knelt down by the side of the Coroner to study the dead man’s face. “Nothing can be simpler! Look here; these broad, bloody looking welts across the face are evidently traces of heavy blows which the dead man received before he was cast down here, alive or dead — who will say ? However, there are so many possibilities in this case, that it will be hard to decide, unless light is thrown upon the event by other witnesses. The poor man may, to suggest but one, have been trying to escape from a murderous attack ; he may not have seen this ominous opening in the dark of the night, and may thus have fallen backward.”

“Then you suspect a crime ?” asked the Justice eagerly, his manly, fair features betraying deep inner emotion.

The Coroner gave no direct answer. “ Of course.

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we shall all have to wait for the autopsy, which will naturally be ordered, although the cause of death is patent,” pointing at the broken back of the man’s head. “ But how death came about, no one can tell, as yet. Thisskull may show theeffectsof brutal blows, or it may have been broken by the sharp projections in the wall. The body must at once be sent to the Morgue.” He looked at his watch. “ I regret I cannot stay here any longer; however, you do not need my presence now.”

The Justice bowed courteously, “ I shall see to it. Coroner, that the body is taken directly to the Morgue,” he added.

The Coroner took leave and somewhat slowly climbed up the steep ladder.

Now only the Justice found words to express his great sorrow. “ There can be no doubt,” he said in an undertone, “ it is Banker Wigan. Such an excellent family ! What a terrible calamity !”

“ Did you know the deceased ?”

“Oh, very well. We have played many a game of whist in his villa in the summer, but I cannot remember ever having seen Mr. Wigan out here during winter-time; and what could he have had to do here in the depth of night ? His villa is unoccupied, and not even a watchman is kept there.”

“ Let us hope,” said his friend, “ that the autopsy and the regular inquiries will throw some light upon this mysterious accident.”

The Commissary, in the meantime, knelt down by the body, and was at work examining the pockets.

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“This is very, very strange!” lie suddenly exclaimed, turning to the policeman, who was assisting his superior. “ The deceased must have been a rich man !”

“ Certainly,” replied the other ; “ everybody in town will tell you how rich a man was Mr. Wigan.”

“ Well, then it is all the more remarkable that no money of any kind can be found on the body. There is no watch and no chain. He has neither purse nor pocket-book, and all I can find is this ring, with keys and a pocket-knife I”

“ Here in his overcoat is a bunch of cigars and a double key,” said one of the policemen, presenting the two articles.

“ But that seems to be all,” continued the Commissary, “ no papers at all, no pocket-book — nothing. His wedding-ring, however, is still on his finger and a small diamond ring on his little finger.”

The two men looked at each other in silence.

“ This looks very much like a crime,” said the Commissary. “These matches also confirm that idea ; they have evidently been burnt recently. From what the Coroner says, the deceased cannot have lit them ; death must have been instantaneous after those horrible injuries. Besides, no match-box has been found m the dead man’s pockets. There must have been a second man in the cellar, and evidently at the same time when the crime was committed.”

Here one of the policemen came up to him to report that he had found some tracks leading to the

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back of the cellar. A lantern was brought down, but the traces were too indistinct to lead to any result. The broken pieces of mortar and lime had been so roughly trod upon, that the footsteps were soon lost.

The Commissary returned to the Justice and said :

“ We had better go up again. I hope you had the street barred so that no one can come in ?”

“ That is hardly necessary ; with the exception of a single man, all the house-owners here live in town during the winter months.”

“ That makes it^all the more strange that this rich banker should have come to grief here,” said the other, hurriedly mounting the ladder, after he had given orders that until the hearse should come the body should be left in the cellar.

Chapter II

In a great city this event would immediately have attracted a crowd of curious people — here, in the suburb, not a single person had as yet strayed. The officials had the place to themselves, and the young commissary was thoughtfully walking up and down before the new structure, staring at the ground.

“ Here are footsteps,” he said, examining with critical eyes the traces left in the hard frozen snow.

“ Well,” objected the Justice, “ we may have made the marks ourselves.”

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“ By no means,” retorted the former, shaking his head ; “ look at these traces that seem to come across from the other side of the street; they are certainly several hours old.”

Suddenly he bent down and examined most anxiously a very clearly-defined track.

“ Look here,” he cried eagerly, “ look what an elegant and characteristic foot ! This gentleman wore double-soled boots, and the heels were high and narrow. His steps must have been regular and elastic, for they are all alike. And — what can this mean ? I declare ! Here, quite clearly, do you see ? Within the heel a horse-shoe, ending in the shape of a heart! Eveh the little screws with which the horseshoe was secured in the heels have left their indentation in the plastic snow ! And then look, close by, these coarse, awkward tracks made by boots with big nails on the soles I”

The watchman, who was standing near him, blushed purple and all over his face, advancing almost shame-faced one of his own clumsy shoes.

“ That is probably my work,” he said grumbling; “ I was here in the night, but I never saw anything 1”

The Commissary glanced at the man’s shoes and nodded.

“ You may be right!” he said, but the next moment, looking once more carefully at the sole of the watchman’s shoe, which he held up for his benefit, he added, “And yet, no ! You are not right! these tracksresemble yours, and here,”pointingat tjiesnow, “ is clearly the impression of your shoe. Your soles

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are fastened with nails ; but several of these nails are wanting and this is distinctly seen in the footsteps. But these other tracks belong to shoes, also fastened with nails, but having a crack right across the sole. Here you see that very clearly ! This man had evidently old boots on, that were in very bad order. Let me see your soles once more.”

The man did so and the Commissary looked convinced.

“ I see ! Another man must have been about here last night, and I think later than the man with the ornamental boot heels, because the traces are not so clearly marked. It was perhaps colder by that time and the snow not so soft as before !” Then, fixing his eye upon this new track, he followed it till it reached the next house ; then he suddenly called out : “ Watchman, come here a moment !”’

When the man had come up, the official pointed at some tracks inside of the plank fence, just before the open window. ,

“ Did you get in here last night ?” he asked.

“ No !” said the man. “ I was here this morning, but only a few moments!”

“ No ! no !” said the Commissary at once. “ These tracks were made in the night, and look ! here is the cracked sole again ! How very deep the impression is! It looks as if the man had thrown his weight against the show-window — or could he have relieved himself here of a heavy burden.?” He immediately ordered the tracks to be carefully measured, and then fell into deep meditation.

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“ I admire your sagacity,” said the Justice, with well-founded and serious respect; “ I should never have read in those marks in the snow, what you see in them.”

“ Experience is the best master,” said Molitor mechanically. “ I have seen no tracks made by the deceased,” he murmured to himself.

He looked again and again for some time at the three different tracks which he had discovered ; at last he called out: “Schmidt!” One of the policemen drew near. “ Go down into the cellar and measure the boots of the dead man, but be careful 1 — or, better, 1 will go myself,” he added, and in a moment he was down in the cellar.

When he came up again a few minutes later, he looked contented and said : “ I was right; this is the dead man’s own work. Now let us see V’

Attentive, with his head eagerly bent forward, he now stepped across the road bed, tracing the remarkable heel-mark backward. “ Exactly I” he said, nodding his head; “the two tracks come in opposite directions across the street, but here they reunite,” he said, as he approached an elegant gate of wrought-iron. On one of the stone pillars that supported the gate, he saw a porcelain plate with the words “ Theodore Wigan.” “ This is, of course, the banker’s villa.”

“No doubt the footsteps continue inside,” continued Molitor, who had tried in vain to open the gates. “ I can see, from here, the traces of the strange heel by the side of the dead man’s track. -

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Both of them are coming from the house towards us; no doubt the banker and the other man left the villa together. He himself went across towards the new structure, while the other first turned towards Louis Street, then seems to have re-considered and returned, crossed the street and reached the banker once more just before the unfinished structure.”

He thought a few moments, then he said: “ We shall have to inspect the villa. We have the bunch of keys. Schmidt took them from the body.”

Just then the man came up from the cellar, and Molitor called him, in order to get the keys from him. They were of all kinds and sizes, so that the Commissary had to try a number before he found that the big double key, which could be folded up to half its size, was the house key.

Slowly the two gentlemen crossed the paved road, which led sideways from the front-gate around the garden, between the street and the house. It was thickly covered with snow, and the Commissary followed the two tracks with keenest attention.

“ Evidently,” said the latter, “ the gentleman with the curious heels has gone first, for many of his footsteps are partly obliterated by those of the banker, which are left perfect. The soles with nails have left no trace inside of the villa.”

Thus they reached the house-door. The few steps that led up to it, showed likewise the impressions of both pairs of boots. The other end of the double key opened this door, and as they entered they

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found all the shutters carefully closed. Molitor entered first, and his eye was at once attracted by a big, damp and dirty spot, contrasting sharply with the white marble floor of the hall.

“ Here the gentlemen have shaken off the snow,” he said, pointing at this spot, from which footsteps led to a door on the left. “If you will excuse me. I’ll follow them and go in there.”

The Justice had left the front door open, so that the daylight could enter fully into the hall, which had three other doors, while on the right a staircase led to the upper story.

When the Commissary opened the door on the left, a musty, unpleasant odor arose from the dark room. The contrast with the bright hall at first blinded the new-comers, and Molitor promptly produced one of those convenient matches that burn some ten minutes, like tiny wax candles. The gentlemen found themselves in a tastefully furnished room, with a table in the centre and over it a very handsome oil lamp. The unpleasant smell bore witness that it had not been long extinguished.

The Commissary’s eye fell upon some silver candle-sticks on the richly-carved sideboard ; he at once took one of them, lit the candle, and then went up to the lamp that had been lowered. He took off the chimney and passed his fingers over the wick.

“ I was not mistaken,” he said to the Justice, who had stopped on the threshold. “ I thought the lamp had been still burning a few hours ago ; the wick is still soft to the touch and, as you see, still blackens.

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Evidently the gentlemen were in this room for some time ; they have smoked their cigars here ; we can smell the odor still. ' Here, in these two armchairs on the long side of the table, they sat opposite each other — here is the cup for the cigar ashes only half filled. No ! Only one has smoked, for the cup stands close by him, and the ashes that are spilled lie all on this side of the cup.”