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"Thou art the
Man"
============= By Edgar A. Poe. ============  I will now play the
Œdipus to the Rattleborough enigma. I will
expound
to you — as I alone can — the secret of the enginery that effected
the
Rattleborough miracle — the one — the true — the admitted — the
undisputed —
the indisputable miracle which put a definite end to infidelity among
the Rattleburghers, and converted to the orthodoxy of the grandames,
all
the carnal-minded who had ventured to be sceptical [[skeptical]]
before. This event — which I should be sorry to discuss in
a tone of
unsuitable
levity — occurred in the summer of 18—. Mr Barnabas
Shuttleworthy,
one of the wealthiest and most respectable citizens of the borough,
had
been missing, for several days, under circumstances which gave rise to
suspicion
of foul play. Mr Shuttleworthy had set out from
Rattleborough, very
early
one Saturday morning, on horseback, with the avowed intention of
proceeding
to the city of ——, about fifteen miles distant, and of returning the
night
of the same day. Two hours after his departure, however, his horse
returned
without him, and without the saddle-bags which had been strapped on his
back at starting. {{1844-01c: The animal
was wounded, too, and covered with mud. }}
These
circumstances [segment ?:] naturally gave rise to much alarm
among the friends of
the
missing man, and when it was found, on Sunday morning, that {{1844-01a: the missing man // 1844-01c:
he }} had not
yet made his appearance, the whole borough arose en masse, to
go
and
look
for his body. The foremost and most energetic in instituting this
search, was the
bosom
friend of Mr Shuttleworthy — a Mr Charles
Goodfellow,
or, as he was
universally called, "Charley Goodfellow," or "Old Charley Goodfellow."
Now whether it is a marvellous coincidence, or whether it is that the
name itself has an imperceptible effect upon the character, I have
never
yet been able to ascertain — but the fact is unquestionable, that there
never yet was any person named Charles, who was not an open, manly,
honest,
good-natured, and frank-hearted fellow, with a rich, clear [segment
?:] voice, that
did you good to hear it, and an eye that looked you always straight in
the face, as much as to say "I have a clear conscience, myself, — am
afraid
of no man, — and am altogether above doing a mean action." And thus all
the
hearty, careless, "walking gentlemen" of the stage, are very certain to
be called Charles. Now "Old Charley Goodfellow," although he had been
in Rattleborough
not longer than six months, or thereabouts, and although nobody knew
anything about him before he came to settle in the neighbourhood, had
experienced
no difficulty in the world in making the acquaintance of all the
respectable
people in the borough. Not a man of them but would have taken his bare
word for a thousand at any moment; and, as for the women, there is no
saying
what they would not have done to oblige him. And all this came of his
having
been christened Charles, and of his possessing, in consequence, that
ingenuous
face which is proverbially the very "best letter of recommendation." I have already said that Mr Shuttleworthy was
one
of the most [segment ?:]
respectable,
and, undoubtedly he was the most wealthy man in Rattleborough, while
"Old
Charley Goodfellow" was upon as intimate terms with him as if he had
been
his own brother. The two old gentlemen were next-door neighbours, and
although Mr Shuttleworthy seldom, if ever, visited "Old
Charley," and
never was known to take a meal in his house, still this did not prevent
the two friends from being exceedingly intimate, as I have just
observed;
for "Old Charley" never let a day pass, without stepping in three or
four
times to see how his neighbour came on; and very often he would stay to
breakfast, or tea; and almost always to dinner; and then the amount of
wine
that was made way with by the two cronies at a sitting, it would really
{{1844-01c: be }}
a difficult thing to ascertain. Old Charley's favorite beverage was Chateau
Margaux, and it appeared to do Mr
Shuttleworthy's heart good
to
see the old fellow swallow it, as he did, quart
after quart; so that,
one
day, when the wine was in, and the wit, as a natural
consequence,
somewhat out, he said to his crony, as he slapped him upon
the back — "I tell
you
what [segment ?:] it is, Old Charley, — you are, by all odds,
the
heartiest old {{1844-01a: cock //
1844-01b: fellow }}
I ever came across in all my born days; and, since you love to guzzle
the
wine at that fashion, I'll be darned if I don't have to make thee a
present
of a big box of the Chateau Margaux. Od rot me" (Mr Shuttleworth
[[Shuttleworthy]]
had a sad habit of swearing, although he seldom went beyond "Od rot
me,"
or "By gosh," or "By the jolly golly") — "Od rot me" says he, "if I
don't send an order to town, this very afternoon, for a double box of
the
best that can be got — and I'll make ye a present of it — I will — ye
need'nt
say a word, now — I will, I tell ye, and there's an end of it;
so look
out for it — it will come to hand some of these fine days, {{1844-01a: just // 1844-01c: precisely
}}
when
ye are looking for it the least." — I mention this little bit of
liberality,
on the part of Mr Shuttleworthy, just by way of showing you
how very
intimate
an understanding existed between the two friends. Well, on the Sunday morning in question, when it
came to be fairly
understood
that Mr Shuttleworthy had met with foul play, I never saw any one so
profoundly [segment ?:]
affected as Old Charley Goodfellow. When he first heard that the
horse
had come home without his master, and without his master's saddle-bags,
and all bloody from a pistol shot that had gone clean through and
through
the poor animal's chest, without quite killing him; — when he heard all
this,
he turned as pale as if the missing man had been his own dear brother,
or
father, and shivered and shook all over, as if he had had a fit of the
ague. At first, he was too much overpowered with grief to
be able to do anything at all, or to concert upon any plan of action —
so
that, for a long
time, he endeavoured to dissuade Mr Shuttleworthy's other
friends from
making a stir about the matter — thinking it best to wait a while — say
for a week or two, or a month or two, to see if something would'nt
turn
up, or if Mr Shuttleworthy would'nt come in the natural way, and
explain
his reasons for sending his horse on before. I dare say you have often
observed this disposition to temporize, or to procrastinate, in people
who are laboring under any very poignant sorrow. Their powers of mind
seem to be rendered torpid, so that they have a
horror of anything
like
action, and like nothing in the world so well as to lie quietly in bed
and "nurse their grief," as the old {{1844-01a:
women // 1844-01c: ladies }} express it — that
is to
say,
ruminate over their trouble. The people of Rattleborough had, indeed, so high an
opinion of the
wisdom
and discretion of "Old Charley" that the greater part of them felt
disposed
to agree with him, and not make a stir in the business "until something
should turn up," as the honest old gentleman worded it; and I believe
that,
after all, this would have been the general determination, but for the
very
suspicious interference of Mr Shuttleworthy's nephew, a young man of
very
dissipated habits, and otherwise of rather bad character. This nephew —
whose name was Pennifeather — would listen to nothing like reason, in
the
matter of "lying quiet," but insisted upon making immediate search for
the "corpse of the murdered man." This was the expression he
employed;
and Mr Goodfellow acutely remarked, at the time, that it was "a singular
[segment ?:]
expression, to say no more." This remark of Old Charley's, too, had
great
effect upon the crowd; and one of the party was heard to ask, very
impressively,
"how it happened that young Mr Pennifeather was so intimately
cognizant
of all the circumstances connected with his wealthy uncle's
disappearance,
as to feel authorized to assert, distinctly and unequivocally, that his
uncle was 'a murdered man'." Hereupon some little squibbing and
bickering
occurred, among various members of the crowd, and especially between
"Old
Charley" and Mr Pennifeather — although this latter occurrence was,
indeed,
by no means a novelty; for no good will had subsisted between the
parties
for the last three or four months; and matters had even gone so far
that Mr Pennifeather had actually knocked down his uncle's friend, for
some
alleged
excess of liberty that the latter had taken in the uncle's house, of
which
the nephew was an inmate. Upon this occasion "Old Charley" is said to
have
behaved with exemplary moderation and Christian charity. He arose from
the blow, adjusted his clothes, and made no attempt at [segment ?:]
retaliation at
all; — merely muttering a few words about "taking summary vengeance at
the
first convenient opportunity" — a natural and very justifiable
ebullition
of anger, — which meant nothing, however; and, beyond
doubt, was no
sooner
given vent to than forgotten. However these matters {{1844-01c:
may }} be, (which have no
reference to the point
now [segment ?:]
at issue,) it is quite certain that the people of Rattleborough,
principally
through the persuasion of Mr Pennifeather, came, at length, to the
determination
of dispersing over the adjacent country, in search of the missing Mr
Shuttleworthy.
I say they came to this determination, in the first instance. After it
had
been fully resolved that a search should be made, it was considered
almost
a matter of course that the seekers should disperse — that is to say
distribute themselves in parties — for the more thorough examination
of
the region round about. I forget, however, by what ingenious train of
reasoning
it was, that "Old Charley" finally convinced the assembly that this was
the most injudicious plan that could be pursued. Convince them,
however,
he did — all except Mr Pennifeather — and, in the end, it was arranged
that a search should be instituted carefully, and very thoroughly, by
the
burghers en masse; "Old Charley" himself leading the way. As for the matter of that, there could have been no
better pioneer
than
"Old Charley," whom every body knew to have the eye of a lynx; but,
although
he led them into all [segment ?:] manner of out-of-the-way
holes and corners, by
routes
that nobody had ever suspected of existing in the neighbourhood; and
although
the search was incessantly kept up, day and night, for nearly a week,
still
no trace of Mr Shuttleworthy could be discovered. When I say no trace,
however, I must not be understood to speak literally — for trace, to
some
extent, there certainly was. The poor gentleman had been tracked, by
his
horse's shoes, (which were peculiar,) to a spot about three miles to
the
east of the borough, on the main road, leading to the city. Here the
track
made off into a by[[-]]path through a piece of woodland — this path
coming
out again into the main road and cutting off about half a mile of the
regular distance. Following the shoe-marks down this lane, the party
came,
at length, to a pool of stagnant water, half hidden by the brambles to
the right of the lane; and opposite this pool all vestige of the track
was lost sight of. It appeared, however, that a struggle
of some nature
had here taken place, and it seemed as if some large and heavy body —
much
larger and heavier than a man — had been dragged from the by-path [segment
?:] to the
pool.
This latter was carefully dragged, twice; but nothing was found; and
the
party were upon the point of going away, in despair of coming to any
result,
when Providence suggested to Mr Goodfellow the expediency of draining
the water off altogether. This project was received
with cheers, and
many
high compliments to "Old Charley" upon his sagacity and consideration.
As many of the burghers had brought spades with them, supposing that
they
might possibly be called upon to disinter a corpse, the drain was
easily
and speedily effected; and no sooner was the bottom visible, than,
right
in the middle of the mud that remained, was discovered a black silk
velvet
waistcoat, which nearly every one present immediately recognized as the
property of Mr Pennifeather. This waistcoat was much torn, and stained
with blood; and there were several persons, among the party, who had a [segment
?:]
distinct
remembrance of its having been worn by its owner on the very morning of
Mr Shuttleworthy's departure for the city; while there were others,
again,
ready to testify upon oath, if required, that Mr P. did not
wear the
garment
in question, at any period during the remainder of that
memorable day; —
nor
could any one be found to say that he had seen it upon Mr P.'s person
at any period at all, subsequent to Mr Shuttleworthy's disappearance. Matters now wore a very serious aspect for Mr
Pennifeather, and it
was observed, as an indubitable confirmation of the suspicions which
were
excited against him, that he grew exceedingly pale, and when asked what
he had to say for himself, was utterly incapable of saying a word.
Hereupon,
the few friends his riotous mode of living had left him, deserted him,
at
once, to a man, and were even more clamorous than his ancient and
avowed
enemies, for his instantaneous arrest. But, on the other hand, the
magnanimity
of Mr Goodfellow shone forth with [segment ?:] only the more
brilliant lustre,
through
contrast. He made a warm and intensely eloquent defence of Mr
Pennifeather,
in which he alluded, more than once, to his own sincere forgiveness of
that
wild young gentleman — "the heir of the worthy Mr Goodfellow
[[Shuttleworthy]]" —
for the insult which he (the young gentleman) had,
no doubt in the heat
of passion, thought proper to put upon him (Mr Goodfellow). "He
forgave
him for {{1844-01a: t }}
it," he said, "from the very bottom of his heart; and, for
himself,
(Mr Goodfellow), so far from pushing the suspicious circumstances to
extremity,
which, he was sorry to say, really had arisen against Mr
Pennifeather,
he (Mr Goodfellow) would make every exertion in his power — would
employ
all the little eloquence in his possession — to — to — to — soften
down,
as much as he could conscientiously do so, the worst features of this
really
exceedingly perplexing piece of business." Mr Goodfellow went on, for some half hour longer, in
this strain,
very
much to the credit both of his head and of his heart; but your
warm-hearted
people are seldom apposite in their observations; — they run into [segment
?:] all
sorts
of blunders, contre-temps and mal à propos-isms,
in the hot-headedness
of
their zeal to serve a friend; thus, often, with the kindest intentions
in the world, doing infinitely more to prejudice his cause, than to
advance
it. So, in the present instance, it turned out with all
the eloquence of
"Old Charley"; for, although he laboured earnestly in behalf of the
suspected,
yet it so happened, somehow or other, that every [segment ?:]
syllable he uttered of
which the direct but unwitting tendency was not to exalt the speaker in
the good opinion of his audience, had the effect to deepen the
suspicion
already attached to the individual whose cause he pleaded, and to
arouse {{1844-01a: [[illegible
erasure]] // 1844-01c: against }} him the
fury of the mob. One of the most unaccountable errors committed by
the orator, was his
allusion to the suspected, as "the heir of the worthy old gentleman, Mr
Goodfellow [[Shuttleworthy]]." The people had really never thought of
this before.
They
had only remembered certain threats of disinheritance uttered, a year
or
two {{1844-01a: previously //
1844-01c: previous }} , by the uncle (who had no
living relative except the
nephew);
and they had, therefore, always looked upon this disinheritance as a
matter
that was settled — so single-minded a race of beings were the
Rattleburghers; —
but the remark of "Old Charley" brought them at once to a consideration
of this point, and thus gave them [segment ?:] to see the
possibility of the threats
having been nothing more than a threat. And straightway,
hereupon, arose
the natural question of cui bono? — a
question that tended, even more
than
the waistcoat, to fasten the terrible crime upon the young man. And
here,
lest I be misunderstood, permit me to digress, for one moment, merely
to observe that the exceedingly brief and simple Latin phrase which I
have
employed, is invariably mistranslated and misconceived. "Cui bono",
in
all the crack novels, and elsewhere, — in those of Mrs Gore, for
example
(the author of "Cecil") a lady who quotes all tongues from the
Chaldæan
to Chickasaw, and is helped to her learning, "as needed," upon a
systematic
plan, by Mr Beckford; — in all the crack novels, I say, from
those of
Bulwer and Dickens, to those of
Turnapenny
and Ainsworth, the two little Latin words cui bono, are
rendered
"to [segment ?:]
what
purpose," or, (as if quo bono), "to what good." Their true
meaning,
nevertheless,
is "for whose advantage." Cui, to whom; bono, is it for
a benefit. It
is
a purely legal phrase, and applicable precisely in cases such as we
have
now under consideration, where the probability of the doer of a deed,
hinges
upon the probability of the benefit accruing to this individual, or to
that,
from the deed's accomplishment. Now, in the present instance, the
question, cui bono, very pointedly implicated Mr Pennifeather.
His uncle had
threatened
him, after making a will in his favor, with disinheritance. But the
threat
had not been actually kept; the original will, it appeared, had not
been
altered. Had it been altered, the only supposable motive for
murder, on
the part of the suspected, would have been the ordinary one of revenge;
and even this would have been counteracted by the hope of reinstation
into
the good graces of the uncle. But, the will being unaltered, while the
threat
to alter remained suspended over the nephew's head, there appears, at
once,
the very strongest possible inducement for the atrocity: and so
concluded,
very sagaciously, the worthy citizens of the
borough of Rattle. [segment ?:] Mr Pennifeather was, accordingly, arrested upon the
spot; and the
crowd,
after some farther search, proceeded homewards, having him in custody.
On
the route, however, another circumstance occurred, tending to confirm
the
suspicion entertained. Mr Goodfellow, whose zeal led him to be always
a little in advance of the party, was seen suddenly to run forward a
few
paces, stoop, and then, apparently, to pick up some small object from
the
grass. Having quickly examined it, he was observed,
too, to make a sort
of {{1844-01a: a }} half
attempt at concealing it in his coat-pocket; but this action
was
noticed, as I say, and consequently prevented; when the object picked
up
was found to be a Spanish knife, which a dozen persons at once
recognized
as belonging to Mr Pennifeather. Moreover, his initials were engraved
upon the handle. The blade of this knife was open, and bloody. No doubt now remained of the guilt of the nephew,
and, immediately
upon
reaching Rattleborough, he was taken before a magistrate for
examination. Here matters again took a most unfavourable turn.
The prisoner,
being
questioned as to his whereabouts on the morning of Mr Shuttleworthy's
disappearance, [segment ?:] had absolutely the audacity to
acknowledge that, on that
very morning, he had been out with his rifle, deer-stalking, in the
immediate
neighbourhood of the pool where the blood-stained waistcoat had been
discovered,
through the sagacity of Mr Goodfellow. This latter now came forward, and, with tears in his
eyes, asked
permission
to be examined. He said that {{1844-01a:
a }} stern sense of the duty he owed to his
Maker,
not less than to his fellow men, would permit him no longer to remain
silent.
Hitherto, the sincerest affection for the young man (notwithstanding
the
latter's ill treatment of himself, Mr Goodfellow), had induced him to
make
every hypothesis which imagination could suggest, by way of
endeavoring
to account for what appeared suspicious, in the circumstances that told
so seriously against Mr Pennifeather; — but these circumstances were
now
altogether too convincing — too damning; — he would
hesitate no
longer; —
he would tell all he knew — although his heart (Mr Goodfellow's) should
absolutely burst asunder in the effort. He then went on to state that, [segment
?:]
on the afternoon of the day previous to Mr Shuttleworthy's departure
for
the city, that worthy old gentleman had mentioned to his nephew, in his
hearing (Mr Goodfellow's), that his object in going to town on the
morrow,
was to make a deposit of an unusually large sum of money, in the
"Farmer's
and Mechanics' Bank"; and that, then and there, the said Mr
Shuttleworthy
had distinctly avowed to the said nephew, his irrevocable determination
of rescinding the will originally made, and of
cutting him off with a
shilling.
He, (the witness), now solemnly called upon the accused to state
whether
what he, (the witness), had just stated, was, or was not, the truth, in
every
substantial particular. Much to the astonishment of
every one {{1844-01c: present }}
, Mr Pennifeather frankly admitted that it was. The magistrate now considered it his duty to send a
couple of
constables
to search the chamber of the accused, in the house of his uncle. From
this
search they almost immediately returned, with the well-known,
steel-bound, [segment ?:]
russet-leather pocket-book, which the old gentleman had been in the
habit
of carrying for years. Its valuable contents, however, had been
abstracted;
and the magistrate in vain endeavoured to extort from the prisoner the
use which had been made of them, or the place of their concealment.
Indeed
he obstinately denied all knowledge of the matter. The constables
also
discovered, between the bed and sacking of the unhappy man, a shirt and
neck-handkerchief, both marked with the initials of his name, and both
hideously
besmeared with the blood of the victim. At this juncture, it was announced that the horse of
the murdered
man
had just expired in the stable from the effects of the wound he had
received,
and it was proposed by Mr Goodfellow, that a post mortem
examination of
the beast should be immediately made, with the view, if possible, of
discovering
the ball. This was accordingly done; and, as if to demonstrate, beyond
a
question, the guilt of the accused, Mr Goodfellow, after considerable
searching
in the cavity [segment ?:] of the chest, was enabled to detect,
and to pull forth, a
bullet
of very extraordinary size, which, upon trial, was found to be exactly
adapted to the bore of Mr Pennifeather's rifle, while it was far too
large
for that of any other person in the borough, or its vicinity. To render
the matter even surer yet, however, this bullet was discovered to have
a flaw, or seam, at right angles to the usual suture; and, upon
examination,
this seam corresponded precisely with an accidental ridge, or
elevation,
in a pair of moulds, acknowledged by the accused himself to be his own
property.
Upon the finding of this bullet, the examining magistrate refused to
listen
to any farther testimony, and immediately committed the prisoner for
trial; declining,
resolutely, to take any bail in the case; although
against this severity Mr Goodfellow very warmly remonstrated, and
offered to become surety
in
whatever amount might be required. This generosity on the part of "Old
Charley," was only in accordance with the whole tenor of his amiable
and
chivalrous conduct, during the entire period of his sojourn in the
borough
of Rattle. In the presence [[present]] instance, the worthy man was so
entirely
carried
away by the excessive warmth of his sympathy, that he seemed to have
quite
forgotten, when he offered to go bail for his young [segment ?:]
friend, that he
himself
(Mr Goodfellow) did not possess a single dollar's worth of property
upon
the face of the earth. The result of the committal may be readily foreseen. Mr
Pennifeather,
amid the loud execrations of all Rattleborough, was brought to trial at
the next Criminal Sessions; when the chain of circumstantial evidence,
(strengthened,
as it was, by some additional damning facts, which Mr Goodfellow's
sensitive
conscientiousness forbade him to withhold from the court), was
considered
so unbroken and so thoroughly conclusive, that the jury, without
leaving
their seats, returned an immediate verdict of "Guilty of Murder in
the
First Degree." Soon afterwards the unhappy wretch received sentence
of
death,
and was remanded to the county jail, to await the inexorable vengeance
of
the Law. In the meantime, the noble behaviour of "Old Charley
Goodfellow" had
doubly endeared him to the honest citizens of the borough. He became
ten
times a greater favorite than ever; and, as a natural result of the
hospitality
with which he was treated, he relaxed, as it were, perforce, the
extremely
parsimonious habits which his poverty had hitherto impelled him to
observe,
and very frequently had little réunions at his own
house, when wit and
jollity reigned supreme — dampened a little, [segment ?:] of
course, by the
occasional
remembrance of the untoward and melancholy fate which impended over the
nephew of the late lamented bosom friend of the generous host. One fine day, this magnanimous old gentleman was
agreeably surprized
at the receipt of the following letter:
The fact is that Mr Goodfellow had, [segment ?:]
since the
death of Mr
Shuttleworthy,
given over all expectation of ever receiving the promised
Chateau[[-]]Margaux;
and he, therefore looked upon it, now, as a sort of especial
dispensation
of Providence in his behalf. He was highly delighted, of course; and,
in
the exuberance of his joy, invited a large party of friends to a petit
souper, on the morrow, for the purpose of broaching the good old Mr
Shuttleworthy's
present. Not that he said anything about "the good old Mr
Shuttleworthy"
when he issued the invitations. The fact is, he thought much, and
concluded
to say nothing at all. He did not mention to any one — if I
remember
aright — that he had received a present of Chateau-Margaux. He
merely
asked
his
friends to come and help him to drink some, of a remarkably fine
quality,
and
rich flavor, that he had ordered up from the city,
a
couple of months
ago,
and of which he would be in the receipt upon the morrow. I have often
puzzled
myself to imagine why it was that "Old Charley" came to the
conclusion
to say nothing about having received the wine from his old friend — but
I could never precisely understand his reason for the silence —
although
he [segment ?:] had some excellent and very magnanimous
reason, no doubt. The morrow at length arrived, and, with it, a very
large and highly
respectable
company at Mr Goodfellow's house. Indeed, half the borough was there —
I myself among the number — but, much to the vexation of the host,
the Chateau[[-]]Margaux did not arrive until a late hour, and when the
sumptuous
supper, supplied by "Old Charley", had been done very ample justice by
the
guests. It came at length, however, — a monstrously big box of it
there
was, too, — and as the whole party were in excessively good humour, it
was
decided, nem: con:, that it should be lifted upon the table,
and
its
contents
disembowelled forthwith. No sooner said than done. I lent a helping hand;
and, in a trice, we
had the box upon the table, in the midst of all the bottles and
glasses,
not a few of which were demolished in the scuffle. "Old Charley," who
was
pretty much intoxicated, and excessively red in the face, now took a
seat,
with an air of mock dignity, at the head of the board, and [segment
?:] thumped
furiously
upon it with a decanter, calling upon the company to keep order "during
the ceremony of disinterring the treasure." After some vociferation, quiet was, at length, fully
restored, and, as
very often happens in similar cases, a profound and remarkable silence
ensued. Being then requested to force open the lid, I complied, of
course,
"with an infinite deal of pleasure." I inserted a chisel, and, giving
it
a few slight taps with a hammer, the top of the box flew suddenly and
violently off,
and, at the same instant, there sprang up into a sitting position,
directly
facing the host, the bruised, bloody, and nearly putrid corpse of the
murdered Mr Shuttleworthy himself. It gazed, for a few moments, fixedly
and
sorrowfully,
with its decaying and lack-lustre eyes, full into the countenance of Mr
Goodfellow; uttered slowly, but clearly and impressively, the words
"Thou art the Man!"; and then, [segment ?:] falling over the
side of the chest, as if
thoroughly satisfied, stretched out its limbs, quiveringly, upon the
table. The scene that ensued is altogether beyond
description. The rush for
the doors and windows was terrific, and many of the most robust men
in
the room fainted, outright, through sheer horror. But after the first
wild,
shrieking burst of affright, all eyes were directed to Mr Goodfellow.
If I live a thousand years, I can never forget the more than mortal
agony
which was depicted in that ghastly face of his, so lately rubicund with
triumph and wine. For several minutes, he sat rigidly as a statue of
marble;
his eyes seeming, in the intense vacancy of their gaze, to be turned
inwards,
and absorbed in the contemplation of his own miserable, murderous soul.
At length, their expression appeared to flash
suddenly out into the
external
world; when, with a quick leap, he sprang from his
chair, and falling
heavily
with his head and shoulders upon the table, and in contact with the
corpse,
poured out, rapidly and vehemently, a detailed confession of the
hideous
crime for which Mr Pennifeather was then imprisoned and doomed to die. [segment
?:] What he recounted, was, in substance, this: — He
followed his victim
to
the vicinity of the pool; there shot his horse with a pistol;
despatched
the rider with its butt-end; possessed himself of the pocket book; and,
supposing the horse dead, dragged it, with great labor, to the brambles
[segment
?:]
by the pond. Upon his own beast he slung the corpse of Mr
Shuttleworthy,
and thus bore it to a secure place of concealment, a long distance off,
through
the woods. [segment ?:] [[ ]] The
waistcoat, the knife, the pocket-book, and
the bullet, had been
placed
by himself where found, with the view of avenging himself upon Mr
Pennifeather.
He had also contrived the discovery of the stained handkerchief [segment
?:] and
shirt. Towards the end of the blood-chilling recital, the
words of the
guilty
wretch faltered, and grew hollow. When the record was finally
exhausted,
he arose, staggered backwards from the table, and fell, dead. ———————————
The means by which this happily-timed confession was
extorted,
although
efficient, were simple indeed. Mr Goodfellow's excess of frankness had
disgusted me, and excited my suspicion, from the first. I was present
when Mr Pennifeather had struck him; and the fiendish expression which
then
arose upon his countenance, although momentary, assured me that his
threat
of vengeance would, if possible, be rigidly fulfilled. I was thus
prepared
to view the manœuvering of "Old Charley" in a very different
light
from
that in which it was regarded by the good citizens of Rattleborough. I
saw, at once, that all the criminating discoveries arose, either
directly
or indirectly, from himself. But the fact which clearly opened my eyes
to the true state of the case, was the affair of the bullet, found
by Mr
G. in the carcass of the horse. I had not forgotten, although
the
Rattleburghers had, that there was a hole where the ball had
entered the horse, and
another
where it went out. If it were found in the animal, then, after
having
made
its exit, I saw clearly that it must have been deposited by the person
who found it. The bloody shirt and handkerchief confirmed the idea
suggested
by the bullet; for the blood, upon examination, proved to be capital
claret,
and no more. When I came to think of these things, and also of the late
increase of liberality and expenditure on the part of Mr Goodfellow, I
entertained a suspicion which was none the less strong ,because I kept
it
altogether to myself. [segment ?:] In the meantime, I instituted a rigorous private
search for the
corpse
of Mr Shuttleworthy, and, for good reasons, searched in quarters as
divergent
as possible from those to which Mr Goodfellow conducted his party. The
result was that, after some days, I came across an old dry well, the
mouth
of which was nearly hidden by brambles; — and here, at the bottom, I
discovered
what I sought. Now it so happened that I had overheard the colloquy
between the two
cronies, when Mr Goodfellow had contrived to cajole his host into the
promise of a box of Chateau Margaux. Upon this hint I acted. I
procured
a stiff piece of whalebone, thrust it down the throat of the corpse,
and
deposited the latter in an old wine-box; taking care so to double the
body
up, as to double the whalebone with it. In this manner, I had to press
forcibly
upon the lid to keep it down, while I secured [segment ?:] it
with nails; and I
anticipated,
of course, that as soon as these latter were removed, the top would fly
off, and the body {{1844-01c:
fly }} up. Having thus arranged the box, I marked, numbered,
and addressed it,
as
already told; and then, writing a letter in the name of the wine
merchants
with whom Mr Shuttleworthy dealt, I gave instructions to my servant to
wheel the box to Mr Goodfellow's door, in a barrow, at a given signal
from myself. For the words which I intended the corpse to speak, I
confidently
depended upon my ventriloquial abilities; for their effect, I counted
upon
the conscience of the murderous wretch. I believe there is nothing more to be explained. Mr
Pennifeather
was
released upon the spot, inherited the fortune of his uncle, profited by
the lessons of experience, turned over a new leaf, and led happily,
ever
afterwards, a new life. |
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