I said to poor Kruger -
'Put up your watch, I don't want it. You shan't come to any harm. Go,
now; I must tell Adler his fortune. Presently I will tell you how to
escape the assassin; meantime I shall have to examine your thumbmark
again. Say nothing to Adler about this thing - say nothing to anybody.'
He went away filled with fright and gratitude, poor devil. I told Adler
a long fortune - purposely so long that I could not finish it; promised
to come to him on guard, that night, and tell him the really important
part of it - the tragical part of it, I said - so must be out of reach of
eavesdroppers. They always kept a picket-watch outside the town - mere
discipline and ceremony - no occasion for it, no enemy around.
Toward midnight I set out, equipped with the countersign, and picked my
way toward the lonely region where Adler was to keep his watch. It was
so dark that I stumbled right on a dim figure almost before I could get
out a protecting word. The sentinel hailed and I answered, both at the
same moment. I added, 'It's only me - the fortune-teller.' Then I slipped
to the poor devil's side, and without a word I drove my dirk into his
heart! YA WOHL, laughed I, it WAS the tragedy part of his fortune,
indeed! As he fell from his horse, he clutched at me, and my blue
goggles remained in his hand; and away plunged the beast dragging him,
with his foot in the stirrup.
I fled through the woods, and made good my escape, leaving the accusing
goggles behind me in that dead man's hand.
This was fifteen or sixteen years ago. Since then I have wandered
aimlessly about the earth, sometimes at work, sometimes idle; sometimes
with money, sometimes with none; but always tired of life, and wishing
it was done, for my mission here was finished, with the act of that
night; and the only pleasure, solace, satisfaction I had, in all those
tedious years, was in the daily reflection, 'I have killed him!'
Four years ago, my health began to fail. I had wandered into Munich, in
my purposeless way. Being out of money, I sought work, and got it; did
my duty faithfully about a year, and was then given the berth of night
watchman yonder in that dead-house which you visited lately. The place
suited my mood. I liked it. I liked being with the dead - liked being
alone with them. I used to wander among those rigid corpses, and peer
into their austere faces, by the hour. The later the time, the more
impressive it was; I preferred the late time. Sometimes I turned the
lights low: this gave perspective, you see; and the imagination could
play; always, the dim receding ranks of the dead inspired one with weird
and fascinating fancies. Two years ago - I had been there a year then - I
was sitting all alone in the watch-room, one gusty winter's night,
chilled, numb, comfortless; drowsing gradually into unconsciousness; the
sobbing of the wind and the slamming of distant shutters falling fainter
and fainter upon my dulling ear each moment, when sharp and suddenly
that dead-bell rang out a blood-curdling alarum over my head! The shock
of it nearly paralyzed me; for it was the first time I had ever heard
it.
I gathered myself together and flew to the corpse-room. About midway
down the outside rank, a shrouded figure was sitting upright, wagging
its head slowly from one side to the other - a grisly spectacle! Its side
was toward me. I hurried to it and peered into its face. Heavens, it
was Adler!
Can you divine what my first thought was? Put into words, it was this:
'It seems, then, you escaped me once: there will be a different result
this time!'
Evidently this creature was suffering unimaginable terrors. Think what
it must have been to wake up in the midst of that voiceless hush, and,
look out over that grim congregation of the dead! What gratitude shone
in his skinny white face when he saw a living form before him! And how
the fervency of this mute gratitude was augmented when his eyes fell
upon the life-giving cordials which I carried in my hands! Then imagine
the horror which came into this pinched face when I put the cordials
behind me, and said mockingly -
'Speak up, Franz Adler - call upon these dead. Doubtless they will
listen and have pity; but here there is none else that will.'
He tried to speak, but that part of the shroud which bound his jaws,
held firm and would not let him. He tried to lift imploring hands, but
they were crossed upon his breast and tied. I said -
'Shout, Franz Adler; make the sleepers in the distant streets hear you
and bring help. Shout - and lose no time, for there is little to lose.
What, you cannot? That is a pity; but it is no matter - it does not
always bring help. When you and your cousin murdered a helpless woman
and child in a cabin in Arkansas - my wife, it was, and my child! - they
shrieked for help, you remember; but it did no good; you remember that
it did no good, is it not so? Your teeth chatter - then why cannot you
shout? Loosen the bandages with your hands - then you can. Ah, I see -
your hands are tied, they cannot aid you. How strangely things repeat
themselves, after long years; for MY hands were tied, that night, you
remember? Yes, tied much as yours are now - how odd that is. I could
not pull free.
