The International Monthly, Volume 2, No. 1, December, 1850Various
History
The International Monthly, Volume 2, No. 1, December, 1850
Various
Art, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- History -- Periodicals
The father was alone--at least except himself there was no living being
in the room--but there lay a corpse on the floor; at the table stood the
man with a large black notebook in his hand, out of which he was taking
what appeared to the spectator, so far as he could discern, to be bank
notes. To see this was the work of an instant; to conclude that a crime
had been committed was as sudden! and under the impulse of fear and
horror that seized him, Tracy turned to fly, but in his haste and
confusion, less cautious than usual, he struck the window with his
elbow. The sound must have been heard within; and he could not resist
the temptation of flinging an instantaneous glance into the room to
observe what effect it had produced. It was exactly such as might have
been expected; like one interrupted in a crime, the man stood
transfixed, his pale face glaring at the window, and his hands, from
which the notes had dropped suspended in the attitude in which they had
been surprised; with an involuntary exclamation of grief and terror,
Tracy turned again and fled. But he had scarcely gone two hundred yards
when he met the girl walking calmly along the street with her basket on
her arm. She did not observe him, but he recognized her; and urged by
love and curiosity, he could not forbear turning back, and following her
to the door. On reaching it, she, as usual, put her key into the lock;
but it did not open as usual; it was evidently fastened on the inside.
She lifted the knocker, and let it fall once, just loud enough to be
heard within; there was a little delay, and then the door was opened--no
more, however, than was sufficient to allow her to pass in--and
immediately closed. Tracy felt an eager desire to pursue this strange
drama further, and was standing still, hesitating whether to venture a
glance into the room, when the door was again opened, and the girl
rushed out, leaving it unclosed, and ran across the street into the
apothecary's shop.
"She is fetching a doctor to the murdered man," thought Tracy. And so it
appeared, for a minute had scarcely elapsed, when she returned,
accompanied by the apothecary and his assistant; they all three entered
the house; and upon the impulse of the moment, without pausing to
reflect on the impropriety of the intrusion, the young soldier entered
with them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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