Tales of mystery and imagination

;

THE MAN OF THE CROWD

into the street, looked anxiously around him for an instant, and then ran

with incredible swiftness through many crooked and people-less lanes,

until we emerged once more upon the great thoroughfare whence we had
— Dstarted the street of the
Hotel. It no longer wore, however, the

same aspect. It was still brilliant with gas but the rain fell fiercely, and
;

there were few persons to be seen. The stranger grew pale. He walked

moodily some paces up the once populous avenue, then, with a heavy

sigh, turned in the direction of the river, and, plunging through a great

variety of devious ways, came out, at length, in view of one of the principal

theatres. It was about being closed, and the audience were thronging

from the doors. I saw the old man gasp as if for breath while he threw him-

self amid the crowd but I thought that the intense agony of his coun-
;

tenance had, in some measure, abated. His head again fell upon his breast

he appeared as I had seen him at first. I observed that he now took the

—course in which had gone the greater number of the audience but, upon

the whole, I was at a loss to comprehend the waywardness of his actions.

As he proceeded, the company grew more scattered, and his old un-

easiness and vacillation were resumed. For some time he followed closely

a party of some ten or twelve roysterers but from this number one by
;

one dropped off, until three only remained together, in a narrow and

gloomy lane little frequented. The stranger paused, and, for a moment,

seemed lost in thought then, with every mark of agitation, pursued
;

rapidly a route which brought us to the verge of the city, amid regions

very different from those we had hitherto traversed. It was the most

noisome quarter of London, where everything wore the worst impress

of the most deplorable poverty, and of the most desperate crime. By

the dim light of an accidental lamp, tall, antique, worm-eaten, wooden

tenements were seen tottering to their fall, in directions so many and

capricious that scarce the semblance of a passage was discernible between

them. The paving stones lay at random, displaced from their beds by

the rankly-growing grass. Horrible filth festered in the dammed-up
gutters. The whole atmosphere teemed with desolation. Yet, as we
proceeded, the sounds of human life revived by sure degrees, and at length
large bands of the most abandoned of a London populace were seen
reeling to and fro. The spirits of the old man again flickered up, as a
lamp which is near its death-hour. Once more he strode onward with

elastic tread. Suddenly a corner was turned, a blaze of light burst upon
our sight, and we stood before one of the huge suburban temples of

—Intemperance one of the palaces of the fiend, Gin.

L 161

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

It was now nearly daybreak but a number of wretched inebriates
;

still pressed in and out of the flaunting entrance. With a half shriek of

joy the old man forced a passage within, resumed at once his original bear-

ing, and stalked backward and forward, without apparent object, among

the throng. He had not been thus long occupied, however, before a rush

to the doors gave token that the host was closing them for the night. It

was something even more intense than despair that I then observed upon

the countenance of the singular being whom I had watched so pertina-

ciously. Yet he did not hesitate in his career, but, with a mad energy,

retraced his steps at once, to the heart of the mighty London. Long and

swiftly he fled, while I followed him in the wildest amazement, resolute

not to abandon a scrutiny in which I now felt an interest all-absorbing.

The sun arose while we proceeded, and, when we had once again reached

Dthat most thronged mart of the populous town, the street of the

Hotel, it presented an appearance of human bustle and activity scarcely

inferior to what I had seen on the evening before. And here, long,

amid the momently increasing confusion, did I persist in my pursuit of

the stranger. But, as usual, he walked to and fro, and during the day did

not pass from out the turmoil of that street. And, as the shades of the

second evening came on, I grew wearied unto death, and, stopping fully

in front of the wanderer, gazed at him steadfastly in the face. He noticed

me not, but resumed his solemn walk, while I, ceasing to follow, remained

absorbed in contemplation. “ This old man,” I said at length, “ is the

type and the genius of deep crime. He refuses to be alone. He is the man

of the crozvd. It will be in vain to follow for I shall learn no more of
;

him, nor of his deeds. The worst heart of the world is a grosser book

than the Hortulus Animce, and perhaps it is but one of the great mercies

Godof that es lasst sich nicht lesen

—

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid
himself among women, although puzzling questions are not beyond all
conjecture. Sir Thomas Browne, Urn Burial

HE mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in them-
T Weonly in their effects.
Weselves, but little susceptible of analysis. appreciate them

know of them, among other things,

that they are always to their possessor, when inordinately pos-

sessed, a source of the liveliest enjoyment. As the strong man exults

in his physical ability, delighting in such exercises as call his muscles into

action, so glories the analyst in that moral activity which disentangles .

He derives pleasure from even the most trivial occupations bringing his

talents into play. He is fond of enigmas, of conundrums, of hieroglyphics
;

exhibiting in his solutions of each a degree of acumen which appears to

the ordinary apprehension preternatural. His results, brought about

by the very soul and essence of method, have, in truth, the whole air of

intuition. The faculty of re-solution is possibly much invigorated by

mathematical study, and especially by that highest branch of it which,

unjustly, and merely on account of its retrograde operations, has been

called, as if par excellence analysis. Yet to calculate is not in itself to
,

Aanalyse. chess-player, for example, does the one without effort at the

other. It follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon mental char-

acter, is greatly misunderstood. I am not now writing a treatise, but

simply prefacing a somewhat peculiar narrative by observations very

much at random I will, therefore, take occasion to assert that the higher
;

powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully

tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by all the elaborate

frivolity of chess. In this latter, where the pieces have different and

bizarre motions, with various and variable values, what is only complex

is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound. The attention

is here called powerfully into play. If it flag for an instant, an oversight

is committed, resulting in injury or defeat. The possible moves being

not only manifold but involute, the chances of such oversights are multi-

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TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

plied and in nine cases out of ten it is the more concentrative rather
;

than the more acute player who conquers. In draughts, on the contrary,

where the moves are unique and have but little variation, the probabilities

of inadvertence are diminished, and the mere attention being left com-

paratively unemployed, what advantages are obtained by either party are

—obtained by superior acumen. To be less abstract Let us suppose a

game of draughts where the pieces are reduced to four kings, and where,

of course, no oversight is to be expected. It is obvious that here the vic-

tory can be decided (the players being at all equal) only by some recherche

movement, the result of some exertion of the intellect. Deprived of

ordinary resources, the analyst throws himself into the spirit of his op-

ponent, identifies himself therewith, and not unfrequently sees thus,

at a glance, the sole methods (sometimes indeed absurdly simple ones) by

which he may seduce into error or hurry into miscalculation.

Whist had long been noted for its influence upon what is termed the

calculating power and men of the highest order of intellect have been
;

known to take an apparently unaccountable delight in it, while eschewing

chess as frivolous. Beyond doubt there is nothing of a similar nature so

greatly tasking the faculty of analysis. The best chess-player in Christen-

dom may be little more than the best player of chess but proficiency in
;

whist implies capacity for success in all these more important under-

takings where mind struggles with mind. When I say proficiency, I

mean that perfection in the game which includes a comprehension of all

the sources whence legitimate advantage may be derived. These are not

only manifold but multiform, and lie frequently among the recesses of

thought altogether inaccessible to the ordinary understanding. To

observe attentively is to remember distinctly and, so far, the concentra-
;

tive chess-player will do very well at whist while the rules of Hoyle
;

(themselves based upon the mere mechanism of the game) are sufficiently

and generally comprehensible. Thus to have a retentive memory, and
to proceed by “ the book,” are points commonly regarded as the sum

total of good playing. But it is in matters beyond the limits of mere

rule that the skill of the analyst is evinced. He makes, in silence, a host

of observations and inferences. So, perhaps, do his companions and
;

the difference in the extent of the information obtained, lies not so much

in the validity of the inference as in the quality of the observation. The

necessary knowledge is that of what to observe. Our player confines him-

self not at all nor, because the game is the object, does he reject de-
;

ductions from things external to the game. He examines the countenance

164

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

of his partner, comparing it carefully with that of each of his opponents.

He considers the mode of assorting the cards in each hand ; often counting

trump by trump, and honour by honour, through the glances bestowed

by their holders upon each. He notes every variation of face as the

play progresses, gathering a fund of thought from the differences in the

expression of certainty, of surprise, of triumph, or chagrin. From the

manner of gathering up a trick he judges whether the person taking it

can make another in the suit. He recognizes what is played through

Afeint, by the air with which it is thrown upon the table. casual or in-

advertent word the accidental dropping or turning of a card, with the
;

accompanying anxiety or carelessness in regard to its concealment
;

the counting of the tricks, with the order of their arrangement embarrass-
;

—ment, hesitation, eagerness or trepidation all afford, to his apparently

intuitive perception, indications of the true state of affairs. The first

two or three rounds having been played, he is in full possession of the

contents of each hand, and thenceforward puts down his cards with as

absolute a precision of purpose as if the rest of the party had turned

outward the faces of their own.

The analytical power should not be confounded with simple ingenuity
;

for while the analyst is necessarily ingenious, the ingenious man is often

remarkably incapable of analysis. The consecutive or combining power,

by which ingenuity is usually manifested, and to which the phrenologists

(I believe erroneously) have assigned a separate organ, supposing it a primi-

tive faculty, has been so frequently seen in those whose intellect bordered

otherwise upon idiocy, as to have attracted general observation among

writers on morals. Between ingenuity and the analytic ability there

exists a difference far greater, indeed, than that between the fancy and the

imagination, but of a character very strictly analogous. It will be found,

in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the truly imaginative

never otherwise than analytic.

The narrative which follows will appear to the reader somewhat in
the light of a commentary upon the propositions just advanced.

—Residing in Paris during the spring and part of the summer of 18 I
,

there became acquainted with a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This

—young gentleman was of an excellent indeed of an illustrious family,

but, by a variety of untoward events, had been reduced to such poverty
that the energy of his character succumbed beneath it, and he ceased to

bestir himself in the world, or to care for the retrieval of his fortunes.

By courtesy of his creditors, there still remained in his possession a small

165

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

remnant of his patrimony and upon the income arising from this,
;

he managed, by means of a rigorous economy, to procure the necessaries

of life, without troubling himself about its superfluities. Books, indeed,

were his sole luxuries, and in Paris these are easily obtained.

Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the Rue Montmartre,

where the accident of our both being in search of the same very rare and

very remarkable volume, brought us into closer communion. We saw

each other again and again. I was deeply interested in the little family

history which he detailed to me with all that candour which a Frenchman

indulges whenever mere self is the theme. I was astonished, too, at the

myvast extent of his reading and, above all, I felt; soul enkindled within

me by the wild fervour, and the vivid freshness of his imagination. Seek-

ing in Paris the objects I then sought, I felt that the society of such a man
would be to me a treasure beyond price and this feeling I frankly con-

;

fided to him. It was at length arranged that we should live together

during my stay in the city and as my worldly circumstances were some-
;

what less embarrassed than his own, I was permitted to be at the expense

of renting, and furnishing in a style which suited the rather fantastic

gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and grotesque mansion,

long deserted through superstitions into which we did not inquire, and

tottering to its fall in a retired and desolate portion of the Faubourg

Saint-Germain.

Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world,

—we should have been regarded as madmen although, perhaps, as madmen

Weof a harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. admitted no visitors.

Indeed the locality of our retirement had been carefully kept a secret

from my own former associates and it had been many years since Dupin
;

had ceased to know or be known in Paris. We existed within ourselves

alone.

myIt was a freak of fancy in friend (for what else shall I call it ?) to

be enamoured of the Night for her own sake and into this bizarrerie
;,

as into all his others, I quietly fell giving myself up to his wild whims
;

with a perfect abandon . The sable divinity would not herself dwell

with us always but we could counterfeit her presence. At the first dawn
;

of the morning we closed all the massy shutters of our old building
;

lighted a couple of tapers which, strongly perfumed, threw out only the

ghastliest and feeblest of rays. By the aid of these we then busied our

souls in dreams— reading, writing, or conversing, until warned by the

clock of the advent of the true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into the

166

—

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

streets, arm in arm, continuing the topics of the day, or roaming far and

wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of the

populous city, that infinity of mental excitement which quiet observation

can afford.

At such times I could not help remarking and admiring (although

from his rich ideality I had been prepared to expect it) a peculiar analytic

ability in Dupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in its exercise

—if not exactly in its display and did not hesitate to confess the pleasure

thus derived. He boasted to me, with a low chuckling laugh, that most

men, in respect to himself, wore windows in their bosoms, and was wont

to follow up such assertions by direct and very startling proofs of his

intimate knowledge of my own. His manner at these moments was frigid

and abstract his eyes were vacant in expression while his voice,
;;

usually a rich tenor, rose into a treble which would have sounded petulantly

but for the deliberateness and entire distinctness of the enunciation.

Observing him in these moods, I often dwelt meditatively upon the old

philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with the fancy of a

—double Dupin the creative and the resolvent.

Let it not be supposed, from what I have just said, that I am detailing

any mystery, or penning any romance. What I have described in the

Frenchman, was merely the result of an excited, or perhaps of a diseased

intelligence. But of the character of his remarks at the periods in question

an example will best convey the idea.

We were strolling one night down a long dirty street, in the vicinity of

the Palais Royal. Being both, apparently, occupied with thought, neither

of us had spoken a syllable for fifteen minutes at least. All at once Dupin

broke forth with these words :

“ He is a very little fellow, that’s true, and would do better for the

Theatre des VarietesT

“ There can be no doubt of that,” I replied unwittingly, and not at

first observing (so much had I been absorbed in reflection) the extra-

ordinary manner in which the speaker had chimed in with my meditations.
In an instant afterward I recollected myself, and my astonishment was

profound.

“ Dupin,” said I, gravely, “ this is beyond my comprehension. I

do not hesitate to say that I am amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses.

How was it possible you should know I was thinking of ” Here

?

I paused, to ascertain beyond a doubt whether he really knew of whom I

thought.

167

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

“ of Chantilly,” said he, “ why do you pause ? You were remarking
to yourself that his diminutive figure unfitted him for tragedy.”

This was precisely what had formed the subject of my reflections.

Chantilly was a quondam cobbler of the Rue Saint-Denis, who, becoming

stage-mad, had attempted the role of Xerxes, in Crebillon’s tragedy so
called, and been notoriously Pasquinaded for his pains.

—“Tell me, for Heaven’s sake,” I exclaimed, “ the method if method
—there is by which you have been enabled to fathom my soul in this

matter.” In fact I was even more startled than I would have been willing

to express.

“ It was the fruiterer,” replied my friend, “ who brought you to the

conclusion that the mender of soles was not of sufficient height for Xerxes

et id genus omne .”

— —“ The fruiterer you astonish me I know no fruiterer whomsoever.”
—“ The man who ran up against you as we entered the street it may

have been fifteen minutes ago.”

I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carrying upon his head

a large basket of apples, had nearly thrown me down, by accident, as we

passed from the Rue C into the thoroughfare where we stood; but

what this had to do with Chantilly I could not possibly understand.
There was not a particle of charlatanerie about Dupin. “ I will ex-

plain,” he said, “ and that you may comprehend all clearly, we will first
retrace the course of your meditations, from the moment in which I

spoke to you until that of the rencontre with the fruiterer in question.

—The larger links of the chain run thus Chantilly, Orion, Dr Nichols,

Epicurus, Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruiterer.”

There are few persons who have not, at some period of their lives,

amused themselves in retracing the steps by which particular conclusions

of their own minds have been attained. The occupation is often full of

interest and he who attempts it for the first time is astonished by the
;

apparently illimitable distance and incoherence between the starting-point

and the goal. What, then, must have been my amazement when I heard

the Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, and when I could not help

acknowledging that he had spoken the truth. He continued :

We“ had been talking of horses, if I remember aright, just before

leaving the Rue C . This was the last subject we discussed. As

we crossed into this street, a fruiterer, with a large basket upon his head,

brushing quickly past us, thrust you upon a pile of paving-stones collected

at a spot where the causeway is undergoing repair. You stepped upon

168

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

one of the loose fragments, slipped, slightly strained your ankle, appeared
vexed or sulky, muttered a few words, turned to look at the pile, and then

proceeded in silence. I was not particularly attentive to what you did
;

but observation has become with me, of late, a species of necessity.

—“ You kept your eyes upon the ground glancing, with a petulant

expression, at the holes and ruts in the pavement (so that I saw you were

still thinking of the stones), until we reached the little alley called Lamar-
tine, which has been paved, by way of experiment, with the overlapping

and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened up, and, perceiving

your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured the word ‘ stereo-

tomy,’ a term very affectedly applied to this species of pavement. I

knew that you could not say to yourself ‘ stereotomy ’ without being

brought to think of atomies, and thus of the theories of Epicurus and
;

since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I mentioned to
you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guesses of that
noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, I
felt that you could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great
nebula in Orion, and I certainly expected that you would do so. You
did look up and I was now assured that I had correctly followed your

;

steps. But in that bitter tirade upon Chantilly, which appeared in yester-
day’s ‘ Muse'e ,’ the satirist, making some disgraceful allusions to the cob-
bler’s change of name upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latin line
about which we have often conversed. I mean the line

Perdidit antiquum litera prima sonum.

I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly written Urion
;

and, from certain pungencies connected with this explanation, I was aware

that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, that you

would not fail to combine the two ideas of Orion and Chantilly. That

you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile which passed

over your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler’s immolation. So

far, you had been stooping in your gait but now I saw you draw yourself
;

up to your full height. I was then sure that you reflected upon the

diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I interrupted your medita-

—tions to remark that as, in fact, he was a very little fellow that Chantilly
—he would do better at the Theatre des Varietes .”

Not long after this, we were looking over an evening edition of the

Gazette des Tribunaux when the following paragraphs arrested our
,

attention.

169

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

—“ Extraordinary Murders. This morning, about three o’clock, the

inhabitants of the Quartier Saint-Roch were aroused from sleep by a
succession of terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from the fourth story

of a house in the Rue Morgue, known to be in the sole occupancy of one
Madame L’Espanaye, and her daughter, Mademoiselle Camille L’Espanaye.
After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to procure admis-

sion in the usual manner, the gateway was broken in with a crowbar, and
eight or ten of the neighbours entered, accompanied by two gendarmes.

By this time the cries had ceased but, as the party rushed up the first
;

flight of stairs, two or more rough voices, in angry contention, were dis-
tinguished, and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house. As
the second landing was reached, these sounds, also, had ceased, and every-

thing remained perfectly quiet. The party spread themselves, and hurried
from room to room. Upon arriving at a large back chamber in the fourth

story (the door of which, being found locked, with the key inside, was
forced open), a spectacle presented itself which struck every one present

not less with horror than with astonishment.

—“ The apartment was in the wildest disorder the furniture broken

and thrown about in all directions. There was only one bedstead
;

and from this the bed had been removed, and thrown into the middle of the

floor. On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with blood. On the hearth

were two or three long and thick tresses of grey human hair, also dabbled

in blood, and seeming to have been pulled out by the roots. Upon the

floor were found four Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz, three large silver

spoons, three smaller of metal d’Alger, and two bags, containing nearly

four thousand francs in gold. The drawers of a bureau, which stood in

one corner, were open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although many

Aarticles still remained in them. small iron safe was discovered under

the bed (not under the bedstead). It was open, with the key still in the

door. It had no contents beyond a few old letters, and other papers of

little consequence.

“ Of Madame L’Espanaye no traces were here seen but an unusual
;

quantity of soot being observed in the fireplace, a search was made in the

chimney, and (horrible to relate ! ) the corpse of the daughter, head down-
wards, was dragged therefrom it having been thus forced up the narrow

;

aperture for a considerable distance. The body was quite warm. Upon

examining it, many excoriations were perceived, no doubt occasioned by
the violence with which it had been thrust up and disengaged. Upon the

face were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat, dark bruises, and

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THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

deep indentations of finger-nails, as if the deceased had been throttled

to death.

“ After a thorough investigation of every portion of the house, without

further discovery, the party made its way into a small paved yard in the

rear of the building, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her throat

so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise her, the head fell off. The

—body, as well as the head, was fearfully mutilated the former so much so

as scarcely to retain any semblance of humanity.

“To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we believe, the slightest

clue.”

The next day’s paper had these additional particulars.

“ The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue. Many individuals have been
”
examined in relation to this most extraordinary and frightful
affair

(the word * affaire ’ has not yet, in France, that levity of import which

it conveys with us), “ but nothing whatever has transpired to throw light

Weupon it. give below all the material testimony elicited.

“ Pauline Dubourg, laundress, deposes that she has known both the

deceased for three years, having washed for them during that period.

—The old lady and her daughter seemed on good terms very affectionate

towards each other. They were excellent pay. Could not speak in
regard to their mode or means of living. Believed that Madame L.

told fortunes for a living. Was reputed to have money put by. Never

met any persons in the house when she called for the clothes or took

them home. Was sure that they had no servant in employ. There

appeared to be no furniture in any part of the building except in the

fourth story.

“ Pierre Moreau tobacconist, deposes that he has been in the habit of
,

selling small quantities of tobacco and snuff to Madame L’Espanaye for

nearly four years Was born in the neighbourhood, and has always

resided there. The deceased and her daughter had occupied the house

in which the corpses were found, for more than six years. It was formerly
occupied by a jeweller, who under-let the upper rooms to various persons.

The house was the property of Madame L. She became dissatisfied

with the abuse of the premises by her tenant, and moved into them herself,

refusing to let any portion. The old lady was childish. Witness had
seen the daughter some five or six times during the six years. The two

—lived an exceedingly retired life were reputed to have money. Had heard
—it said among the neighbours that Madame L. told fortunes did not

believe it. Had never seen any person enter the door except the old lady

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

and her daughter, a porter once or twice, and a physician some eight or

ten times.

“ Many other persons, neighbours, gave evidence to the same effect.
No one was spoken of as frequenting the house. It was not known
whether there were any living connexions of Madame L. and her daughter.
The shutters of the front windows were seldom opened. Those in the

rear were always closed, with the exception of the large back room, fourth

—story. The house was a good house not very old.

“ Isidore Muset gendarme deposes that he was called to the house
,,

about three o’clock in the morning, and found some twenty or thirty

persons at the gateway, endeavouring to gain admittance. Forced it

—open, at length, with a bayonet not with a crowbar. Had but little

difficulty in getting it open, on account of its being a double or folding gate,

and bolted neither at bottom nor top. The shrieks were continued until

—the gate was forced and then suddenly ceased. They seemed to be
—screams of some person (or persons) in great agony were loud and drawn

out, not short and quick. Witness led the way upstairs. Upon reaching

—the first landing, heard two voices in loud and angry contention the one a
—gruff voice, the other much shriller a very strange voice. Could dis-

tinguish some words of the former, which was that of a Frenchman.

Was positive that it was not a woman’s voice. Could distinguish the words
‘ sacre ’ and ‘ diablel The shrill voice was that of a foreigner. Could not
be sure whether it was the voice of a man or of a woman. Could not make
out what was said, but believed the language to be Spanish. The state of
the room and of the bodies was described by this witness as we described

them yesterday.
“ Henri Duval a neighbour, and by trade a silversmith, deposes that

,

he was one of the party who first entered the house. Corroborates the
testimony of Muset in general. As soon as they forced an entrance,

they reclosed the door, to keep out the crowd, which collected very fast,

notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The shrill voice, the witness
thinks, was that of an Italian. Was certain it was not French. Could

not be sure that it was a man’s voice. It might have been a woman’s.

Was not acquainted with the Italian language. Could not distinguish

the words, but was convinced by the intonation that the speaker was an

Italian. Knew Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with both
frequently. Was sure that the shrill voice was not that of either of the

deceased.

“ Odenheimer restaurateur . This witness volunteered his testi-
,

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THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

mony. Not speaking French, was examined through an interpreter.

Is a native of Amsterdam. Was passing the house at the time of the shrieks.
They lasted for several minutes probably ten. They were long and loud

— —very awful and distressing. Was one of those who entered the building.

Corroborated the previous evidence in every respect but one. Was sure

—that the shrill voice was that of a man of a Frenchman. Could not
—distinguish the words uttered. They were loud and quick unequal

spoken apparently in fear as well as in anger. The voice was harsh
not so much shrill as harsh. Could not call it a shrill voice. The gruff
voice said repeatedly ‘ sacre ,’ ‘ diable ,’ and once ‘ mon Dieu .’

“ Jules Mignaud, banker, of the firm of Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine.

Is the elder Mignaud. Madame L’Espanaye had some property. Had

opened an account with his banking house in the spring of the year

(eight years previously). Made frequent deposits in small sums. Had
chequed for nothing until the third day before her death, when she took
out in person the sum of four thousand francs. This sum was paid in
gold, and a clerk sent home with the money.

“ Adolphe Le Bon clerk to Mignaud et Fils, deposes that on the day
,

in question, about noon, he accompanied Madame L’Espanaye to her
residence with the four thousand francs, put up in two bags. Upon the

door being opened, Mademoiselle L. appeared and took from his hands

one of the bags, while the old lady relieved him of the other. He then

bowed and departed. Did not see any person in the street at the time. It

—is a bye-street very lonely.

“ William Bird tailor, deposes that he was one of the party who entered
,

the house. Is an Englishman. Has lived in Paris two years. Was one
of the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in contention. The
gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could make out several words,
but cannot now remember all. Heard distinctly ‘ sacre ’ and ‘ mon Dieu.'
There was a sound at the moment as if of several persons struggling

—a scraping and scuffling sound. The shrill voice was very loud louder

than the gruff one. Is sure that it was not the voice of an Englishman.
Appeared to be that of a German. Might have been a woman’s voice.
Does not understand German.

“ Four of the above-named witnesses, being recalled, deposed that the
door of the chamber in which was found the body of Mademoiselle L.
was locked on the inside when the party reached it. Everything was

—perfectly silent no groans or noises of any kind. Upon forcing the door

no person was seen. The windows, both of the back and front room,

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TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

Awere down and firmly fastened from within. door between the two

rooms was closed, but not locked. The door leading from the front room

Ainto the passage was locked, with the key on the inside. small room

in the front of the house, on the fourth story, at the head of the passage,
was open, the door being ajar. This room was crowded with old beds,

boxes, and so forth. These were carefully removed and searched. There

was not an inch of any portion of the house which was not carefully

searched. Sweeps were sent up and down the chimneys. The house was

Aa four-story one, with garrets (mansardes). trap-door on the roof was
—nailed down very securely did not appear to have been opened for years.

The time elapsing between the hearing of the voices in contention and the

breaking open of the room door, was variously stated by the witnesses.

—Some made it as short as three minutes some as long as five. The

door was opened with difficulty.

“ Aljonzo Carcio, undertaker, deposes that he resides in the Rue
Morgue. Is a native of Spain. Was one of the party who entered

the house. Did not proceed upstairs. Is nervous, and was apprehen-

sive of the consequences of agitation. Heard the voices in contention.

The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish

—what was said. The shrill voice was that of an Englishman is sure

of this. Does not understand the English language, but judges by the

intonation.

“ Alberto Montani confectioner, deposes that he was among the first
,

to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in question. The gruff voice was
that of a Frenchman. Distinguished several words. The speaker ap-
peared to be expostulating. Could not make out the words of the shrill

voice. Spoke quick and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian.

Corroborates the general testimony. Is an Italian. Never conversed

with a native of Russia.
“ Several witnesses, recalled, here testified that the chimneys of all

the rooms on the fourth story were too narrow to admit the passage of a

human being. By ‘ sweeps ’ were meant cylindrical sweeping-brushes,
such as are employed by those who clean chimneys. These brushes were
passed up and down every flue in the house. There is no back passage

by which any one could have descended while the party proceeded up-

stairs. The body of Mademoiselle L’Espanaye was so firmly wedged in
the chimney that it could not be got down until four or five of the party

united their strength.

“ Paul Dumas physician, deposes that he was called to view the bodies
,

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THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

about daybreak. They were both then lying on the sacking of the bed-

stead in the chamber where Mademoiselle L. was found. The corpse

of the young lady was much bruised and excoriated. The fact that it

had been thrust up the chimney would sufficiently account for these

appearances. The throat was greatly chafed. There were several deep

scratches just below the chin, together with a series of livid spots which

were evidently the impression of fingers. The face was fearfully dis-

coloured, and the eyeballs protruded. The tongue had been partially

Abitten through. large bruise was discovered upon the pit of the stomach,

produced, apparently, by the pressure of a knee. In the opinion of M.

Dumas, Mademoiselle L’Espanaye had been throttled to death by some

person or persons unknown. The corpse of the mother was horribly

mutilated. All the bones of the right leg and arm were more or less

shattered. The left tibia much splintered, as well as all the ribs of the

left side. Whole body dreadfully bruised and discoloured. It was not

Apossible to say how the injuries had been inflicted. heavy club of
— —wood, or a broad bar of iron a chair any large, heavy, and obtuse

weapon would have produced such results, if wielded by the hands of a

very powerful man. No woman could have inflicted the blows with any

weapon. The head of the deceased, when seen by witness, was entirely

separated from the body, and was also greatly shattered. The throat had

—evidently been cut with some very sharp instrument probably with a

razor.

“ Alexandre Etienne surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to view the
,

bodies. Corroborated the testimony, and the opinions of M. Dumas.

“ Nothing further of importance was elicited, although several other

Apersons were examined. murder so mysterious, and so perplexing in
—all its particulars, was never before committed in Paris if indeed a murder
—has been committed at all. The police are entirely at fault an unusual

occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the shadow of

a clue apparent.”

The evening edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitement

—still continued in the Quartier Saint-Roch that the premises in question

had been carefully re-searched, and fresh examinations of witnesses

Ainstituted, but all to no purpose. postscript, however, mentioned that
—Adolphe Le Bon had been arrested and imprisoned although nothing

appeared to criminate him, beyond the facts already detailed.

Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair

at least so I judged from his manner, for he made no comments. It was

*75

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

only after the announcement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that he

asked me my opinion respecting the murders.

I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insoluble
mystery. I saw no means by which it would be possible to trace the

murderer.

“ We must not judge of the means,” said Dupin, “ by this shell of

an examination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for acumen are
,

cunning, but no more. There is no method in their proceedings, beyond
the method of the moment. They make a vast parade of measures

;

but, not unfrequently, these are so ill adapted to the objects proposed,

as to put us in mind of Monsieur Jourdain’s calling for his robe-de-chambre

—pour mieux entendre la musique. The results attained by them are not

unfrequently surprising, but, for the most part, are brought about by

simple diligence and activity. When these qualities are unavailing, their

schemes fail. Vidocq, for example, was a good guesser, and a persevering

man. But, without educated thought, he erred continually by the very

intensity of his investigations. He impaired his vision by holding the
object too close. He might see, perhaps, one or two points with unusual

clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sight of the matter as a whole.

Thus there is such a thing as being too profound. Truth is not always in a
well. In fact, as regards the more important knowledge, I do believe that
she is invariably superficial. The depth lies in the valleys where we seek
her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found. The modes

and sources of this kind of error are well typified in the contemplation

—of the heavenly bodies. To look at a star by glances to view it in a side-

long way, by turning toward it the exterior portions of the retina (more

susceptible of feeble impressions of light than the interior), is to behold

— —the star distinctly is to have the best appreciation of its lustre a lustre

Awhich grows dim just in proportion as we turn our vision jully upon it.

greater number of rays actually fall upon the eye in the latter case, but,
in the former, there is the more refined capacity for comprehension. By
undue profundity we perplex and enfeeble thought and it is possible

;

to make even Venus herself vanish from the firmament by a scrutiny too

sustained, too concentrated, or too direct.

“ As for these murders, let us enter into some examinations for our-

selves, before we make up an opinion respecting them. An inquiry will

afford us amusement ” (I thought this an odd term, so applied, but said

nothing), “ and, besides, Le Bon once rendered me a service for which

WeI am not ungrateful. will go and see the premises with our own eyes.

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THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

I know G the Prefect of Police, and shall have no difficulty in

,

obtaining the necessary permission.”

The permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue

Morgue. This is one of those miserable thoroughfares which intervene

between the Rue Richelieu and the Rue Saint-Roch. It was late in the after-

noon when we reached it as this quarter is at a great distance from that
;

in which we resided. The house was readily found for there were still
;

many persons gazing up at the closed shutters, with an objectless curiosity,

from the opposite side of the way. It was an ordinary Parisian house,

with a gateway, on one side of which was a glazed watch-box, with a

sliding panel in the window, indicating a loge de concierge. Before going

in we walked up the street, turned down an alley, and then, again turning,

—passed in the rear of the building Dupin, meanwhile, examining the whole

neighbourhood, as well as the house, with a minuteness of attention for

which I could see no possible object.

Retracing our steps, we came again to the front of the dwelling, rang,

and, having shown our credentials, were admitted by the agents in charge.

—We went upstairs into the chamber where the body of Mademoiselle

L’Espanaye had been found, and where both the deceased still lay. The

disorders of the room had, as usual, been suffered to exist. I saw nothing

beyond what had been stated in the Gazette des Tribunaux. Dupin
— Wescrutinized everything not excepting the bodies of the victims.
then

went into the other rooms, and into the yard a gendarme accompanying
;

us throughout. The examination occupied us until dark, when we took

our departure. On our way home my companion stepped in for a moment

at the office of one of the daily papers.

I have said that the whims of my friend were manifold, and that

—Je les menageais : for this phrase there is no English equivalent. It

was his humour, now, to decline all conversation on the subject of the

murder, until about noon the next day. He then asked me, suddenly,

if I had observed anything peculiar at the scene of the atrocity.

There was something in his manner of emphasizing the word “ pecu-

liar,” which caused me to shudder, without knowing why.

“ No, nothing pecidiar ,” I said “ nothing more, at least, than we
;

both saw stated in the paper.”

“ The Gazette ,” he replied, “ has not entered, I fear, into the unusual

horror of the thing. But dismiss the idle opinions of this print. It

appears to me that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the very reason

—which should cause it to be regarded as easy of solution I mean for the

M 177

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

outre character of its features. The police are confounded by the

— —seeming absence of motive not for the murder itself but for the

atrocity of the murder. They are puzzled, too, by the seeming im-

possibility of reconciling the voices heard in contention, with the facts

that no one was discovered upstairs but the assassinated Mademoiselle

L’Espanaye, and that there were no means of egress without the notice

of the party ascending. The wild disorder of the room the corpse thrust,
;

with the head downward, up the chimney the frightful mutilation
;

of the body of the old lady these considerations, with those just men-
;

tioned, and others which I need not mention, have sufficed to paralyse

the powers, by putting completely at fault the boasted acumen of the
,

government agents. They have fallen into the gross but common error

of confounding the unusual with the abstruse. But it is by these devia-

tions from the plane of the ordinary, that reason feels its way, if at all, in

its search for the true. In investigations such as we are now pursuing, it
should not be so much asked ‘ what has occurred,’ as ‘ what has occurred

that has never occurred before.’ In fact, the facility with which I shall

arrive, or have arrived, at the solution of this mystery, is in the direct ratio

of its apparent insolubility in the eyes of the police.”

I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment.

—“ I am now awaiting,” continued he, looking toward the door of our

apartment “ I am now awaiting a person who, although perhaps not the

perpetrator of these butcheries, must have been in some measure impli-

cated in their perpetration. Of the worst portion of the crimes committed,

it is probable that he is innocent. I hope that I am right in this sup-

— —myposition for upon it I build
;
expectation of reading the entire riddle.

I look for the man here in this room every moment. It is true that

he may not arrive but the probability is that he will. Should he come,
;

it will be necessary to detain him. Here are pistols and we both know
;

how to use them when occasion demands their use.”

I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did, or believing what I

heard, while Dupin went on, very much as if in a soliloquy. I have already

spoken of his abstract manner at such times. His discourse was addressed

to myself but his voice, although by no means loud, had that intonation
;

which is commonly employed in speaking to some one at a great distance.

His eyes, vacant in expression, regarded only the wall.

“ That the voices heard in contention,” he said, “ by the party upon

the stairs, were not the voices of the women themselves, was fully proved

by the evidence. This relieves us of all doubt upon the question whether

178

;

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

the old lady could have first destroyed the daughter, and afterward have

committed suicide. I speak of this point chiefly for the sake of method

for the strength of Madame L’Espanaye would have been utterly unequal

to the task of thrusting her daughter’s corpse up the chimney as it was

found and the nature of the wounds upon her own person entirely
;

preclude the idea of self-destruction. Murder, then, has been committed

by some third party and the voices of this third party were those heard

—;

in contention. Let me now advert not to the whole testimony respecting

—these voices but to what was peculiar in that testimony. Did you
”
observe anything peculiar about it ?

I remarked that, while all the witnesses agreed in supposing the gruff

voice to be that of a Frenchman, there was much disagreement in regard

to the shrill, or, as one individual termed it, the harsh voice.
“ That was the evidence itself,” said Dupin, “ but it was not the

peculiarity of the evidence. You have observed nothing distinctive.

Yet there was something to be observed. The witnesses, as you remark,

agreed about the gruff voice they were here unanimous. But in regard
;

— —to the shrill voice, the peculiarity is not that they disagreed but that,

while an Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard, a Hollander, and a French-

man attempted to describe it, each one spoke of it as that of a foreigner .
Each is sure that it was not the voice of one of his own countrymen. Each

—likens it not to the voice of an individual of any nation with whose lan-
—guage he is conversant but the converse. The Frenchman supposes

it the voice of a Spaniard, and ‘ might have distinguished some words

had he been acquainted with the Spanish' The Dutchman maintains it

to have been that of a Frenchman but we find it stated that ‘ not under-
;

standing French this witness was examined through an ' The

interpreter

Englishman thinks it the voice of a German, and ‘ does not understand

German .’ The Spaniard ‘ is sure ’ that it was that of an Englishman, but

‘judges by the intonation ’ altogether, ‘ as he has no knowledge of the Eng-

lish' The Italian believes it the voice of a Russian, but ‘ has never con-

Aversed with a native of Russia' second Frenchman differs, moreover,

with the first, and is positive that the voice was that of an Italian, but,

not being cognizant of that tongue is, like the Spaniard, ‘ convinced by the
,

intonation.’ Now, how strangely unusual must that voice have really

—been, about which such testimony as this could have been elicited ! in

whose tones even, denizens of the five great divisions of Europe could
,

recognize nothing familiar ! You will say that it might have been the

—voice of an Asiatic of an African. Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound

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—

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

in Paris but, without denying the inference, I will now merely call
;

your attention to three points. The voice is termed by one witness

* harsh rather than shrill.’ It is represented by two others to have been

— —‘ quick and unequal.’ No words no sounds resembling words were

by any witness mentioned as distinguishable.

“ I know not,” continued Dupin, “ what impression I may have

made, so far, upon your own understanding but I do not hesitate to say
;

that legitimate deductions even from this portion of the testimony

—the portion respecting the gruff and shrill voices are in themselves

sufficient to engender a suspicion which should give direction to all further

progress in the investigation of the mystery. I said ‘ legitimate de-

ductions ’ but my meaning is not thus fully expressed. I designed to
;

imply that the deductions are the sole proper ones, and that the suspicion

arises inevitably from them as the single result. What the suspicion is,
however, I will not say just yet. I merely wish you to bear in mind that,

—with myself, it was sufficiently forcible to give a definite form a certain
—tendency to my inquiries in the chamber.

“ Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this chamber. What
shall we first seek here ? The means of egress employed by the murderers.
It is not too much to say that neither of us believe in preternatural events.
Madame and Mademoiselle L’Espanaye were not destroyed by spirits.
The doers of the deed were material, and escaped materially. Then how ?
Fortunately, there is but one mode of reasoning upon the point, and that

—mode must lead us to a definite decision. Let us examine, each by each,

the possible means of egress. It is clear that the assassins were in the
room where Mademoiselle L’Espanaye was found, or at least in the room
adjoining, when the party ascended the stairs. It is then only from

these two apartments that we have to seek issues. The police have laid

bare the floors, the ceilings, and the masonry of the walls, in every direction.

No secret issues could have escaped their vigilance. But not trusting to
their eyes, I examined with my own. There were, then, no secret issues.

Both doors leading from the rooms into the passage were securely locked,

with the keys inside. Let us turn to the chimneys. These, although of

ordinary width for some eight or ten feet above the hearths, will not admit,

throughout their extent, the body of a large cat. The impossibility of
egress, by means already stated, being thus absolute, we are reduced to
the windows. Through those of the front room no one could have
escaped without notice from the crowd in the street. The murderers must
have passed, then, through those of the back room. Now, brought to

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—

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

this conclusion in so unequivocal a manner as we are, it is not our part, as

reasoners, to reject it on account of apparent impossibilities. It is only for

us to prove that these apparent ‘ impossibilities ’ are, in reality, not such.

“ There are two windows in the chamber. One of them is un-

obstructed by furniture, and is wholly visible. The lower portion of the

other is hidden from view by the head of the unwieldy bedstead which

is thrust close up against it. The former was found securely fastened

from within. It resisted the utmost force of those who endeavoured to

Araise it. large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame to the left, and

a very stout nail was found fitted therein, nearly to the head. Upon

examining the other window, a similar nail was seen similarly fitted in

it and a vigorous attempt to raise this sash, failed also. The police
;

were now entirely satisfied that egress had not been in these directions.

And, therefore it was thought a matter of supererogation to withdraw
,

the nails and open the windows.

“ My own examination was somewhat more particular, and was so

—for the reason I have just given because here it was, I knew, that all

apparent impossibilities must be proved to be not such in reality.

—“ I proceeded to think thus a posteriori. The murderers did escape

from one of these windows. This being so, they could not have re-

fastened the sashes from the inside, as they were found fastened ;

the consideration which put a stop, through its obviousness, to the scrutiny

of the police in this quarter. Yet the sashes were fastened. They must
,

then, have the power of fastening themselves. There was no escape from

this conclusion. I stepped to the unobstructed casement, withdrew the

nail with some difficulty, and attempted to raise the sash. It resisted all

Amy efforts, as I had anticipated. concealed spring must, I now knew,

exist and this corroboration of my idea convinced me that my premises,
;

at least, were correct, however mysterious still appeared the circumstances

Aattending the nails. careful search soon brought to light the hidden

spring. I pressed it, and, satisfied with the discovery, forbore to upraise

the sash.

A“ I now replaced the nail and regarded it attentively. person passing

out through this window might have reclosed it, and the spring would

—have caught but the nail could not have been replaced. The conclusion

was plain, and again narrowed in the field of my investigations. The

assassins must have escaped through the other window. Supposing,

then, the springs upon each sash to be the same, as was probable, there

must be found a difference between the nails, or at least between the modes

181

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

of their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bedstead, I looked over

the head-board minutely at the second casement. Passing my hand

down behind the board, I readily discovered and pressed the spring,

which was, as I had supposed, identical in character with its neighbour.

I now looked at the nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparently

—fitted in the same manner driven in nearly up to the head.

“You will say that I was puzzled but, if you think so, you must
;

have misunderstood the nature of the inductions. To use a sporting
phrase, I had not been once ‘ at fault.’ The scent had never for an instant

been lost. There was no flaw in any link of the chain. I had traced

—the secret to its ultimate result, and that result was the nail. It had,

I say, in every respect, the appearance of its fellow in the other window
;

but this fact was an absolute nullity (conclusive as it might seem to be)
when compared with the consideration that here, at this point, terminated
the clue. ‘ There must be something wrong,’ I said, ‘ about the nail.’
I touched it and the head, with about a quarter of an inch of the shank,

;

came off in my fingers. The rest of the shank was in the gimlet-hole,

where it had been broken off. The fracture was an old one (for its edges

were incrusted with rust), and had apparently been accomplished by the
blow of a hammer, which had partially imbedded, in the top of the bottom

sash, the head portion of the nail. I now carefully replaced this head

portion in the indentation whence I had taken it, and the resemblance to a

—perfect nail was complete the fissure was invisible. Pressing the spring,

I gently raised the sash for a few inches ; the head went up with it, re-
maining firm in its bed. I closed the window, and the semblance of the

whole nail was again perfect.

“ The riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The assassin had escaped
through the window which looked upon the bed. Dropping of its own

accord upon his exit (or perhaps purposely closed), it had become fastened
by the spring and it was the retention of this spring which had been

—;

mistaken by the police for that of the nail, further inquiry being thus

considered unnecessary.

“ The next question is that of the mode of descent. Upon this point

I had been satisfied in my walk with you around the building. About

five feet and a half from the casement in question there runs a lightning-

rod. From this rod it would have been impossible for any one to reach
the window itself, to say nothing of entering it. I observed, however, that

the shutters of the fourth story were of a peculiar kind called by Parisian

—carpenters jerrades a kind rarely employed at the present day, but fre-

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THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

quently seen upon very old mansions at Lyons and Bordeaux. They

are in the form of an ordinary door (a single, not a folding door), except

that the upper half is latticed or worked in open trellis—thus affording

an excellent hold for the hands. In the present instance these shutters

are fully three feet and a half broad. When we saw them from the rear

—of the house, they were both about half open that is to say, they stood

off at right angles from the wall. It is probable that the police, as well

as myself, examined the back of the tenement but, if so, in looking at
;

these ferrades in the line of their breadth (as they must have done), they

did not perceive this great breadth itself, or, at all events, failed to take it

into due consideration. In fact, having once satisfied themselves that no

egress could have been made in this quarter, they would naturally bestow

here a very cursory examination. It was clear to me, however, that

the shutter belonging to the window at the head of the bed, would, if swung

fully back to the wall, reach to within two feet of the lightning-rod. It

was also evident that, by exertion of a very unusual degree of activity and

courage, an entrance into the window, from the rod, might have been thus

—effected. By reaching to the distance of two feet and a half (we now

suppose the shutter open to its whole extent) a robber might have taken

a firm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting go, then, his hold upon the

rod, placing his feet securely against the wall, and springing boldly from

it, he might have swung the shutter so as to close it, and, if we imagine

the window open at the time, might even have swung himself into the room.
“ I wish you to bear especially in mind that I have spoken of a very

unusual degree of activity as requisite to success in so hazardous and so

mydifficult a feat. It is design to show you, first, that the thing might
—possibly have been accomplished : but, secondly and chiefly I wish to
,

—impress upon your understanding the very extraordinary the almost

preternatural character of that agility which could have accomplished it.

“ You will say, no doubt, using the language of the law, that ‘ to make

out my case ’ I should rather undervalue, than insist upon a full estimation

of the activity required in this matter. This may be the practice in law,

Mybut it is not the usage of reason. ultimate object is only the truth.

My immediate purpose is to lead you to place in juxtaposition that very

unusual activity of which I have just spoken, with that very peculiar shrill

(or harsh) and unequal voice, about whose nationality no two persons

could be found to agree, and in whose utterance no syllabification could

be detected.”

At these words a vague and half-formed conception of the meaning

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TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

of Dupin flitted over my mind. I seemed to be upon the verge of com-

—prehension, without power to comprehend as men, at times, find them-

selves upon the brink of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to

remember. My friend went on with his discourse.

“You will see,” he said, “ that I have shifted the question from the
mode of egress to that of ingress. It was my design to suggest that both
were effected in the same manner, at the same point. Let us now revert
to the interior of the room. Let us survey the appearances here. The
drawers of the bureau, it is said, had been rifled, although many articles
of apparel still remained within them. The conclusion here is absurd.

—It is a mere guess a very silly one-—and no more. How are we to know

that the articles found in the drawers were not all these drawers had

originally contained ? Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter lived an

— — —exceedingly retired life saw no company seldom went out had little

use for numerous changes of habiliment. Those found were at least of

as good quality as any likely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief

—had taken any, why did he not take the best why did he not take all ?

In a word, why did he abandon four thousand francs in gold to encumber
himself with a bundle of linen ? The gold was abandoned. Nearly
the whole sum mentioned by Monsieur Mignaud, the banker, was dis-

covered, in bags, upon the floor. I wish you, therefore, to discard from

your thoughts the blundering idea of motive engendered in the brains of
,

the police by that portion of the evidence which speaks of money delivered

at the door of the house. Coincidences ten times as remarkable as this

(the delivery of the money, and murder committed within three days

upon the party receiving it), happen to all of us every hour of our lives,
without attracting even momentary notice. Coincidences, in general,
are great stumbling-blocks in the way of that class of thinkers who have

—been educated to know nothing of the theory of probabilities that theory

to which the most glorious objects of human research are indebted

for the most glorious of illustration. In the present instance, had
the gold been gone, the fact of its delivery three days before would have
formed something more than a coincidence. It would have been corro-
borative of this idea of motive. But, under the real circumstances of the

case, if we are to suppose gold the motive of this outrage, we must also

imagine the perpetrator so vacillating an idiot as to have abandoned his

gold and his motive together.

“ Keeping now steadily in mind the points to which I have drawn

—your attention that peculiar voice, that unusual agility, and that startling

184

—

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

—absence of motive in a murder so singularly atrocious as this let us glance

at the butchery itself. Here is a woman strangled to death by manual

strength, and thrust up a chimney, head downwards. Ordinary assassins
employ no such modes of murder as this. Least of all, do they thus dis-
pose of the murdered. In the manner of thrusting the corpse up the

—chimney, you will admit that there was something excessively outre

something altogether irreconcilable with our common notions of human
action, even when we suppose the actors the most depraved of men.
Think, too, how great must have been that strength which could have

thrust the body up such an aperture so forcibly that the united vigour
of several persons was found barely sufficient to drag it down !

“ Turn, now, to other indications of the employment of a vigour

—most marvellous. On the hearth were thick tresses very thick tresses

of grey human hair. These had been torn out by the roots. You are

aware of the great force in tearing thus from the head even twenty or thirty

hairs together. You saw the locks in question as well as myself. Their

roots (a hideous sight were clotted with fragments of the flesh of the

— !)

scalp sure token of the prodigious power which had been exerted in

uprooting perhaps half a million of hairs at a time. The throat of the old

lady was not merely cut, but the head absolutely severed from the body :
the instrument was a mere razor. I wish you also to look at the

brutal ferocity of these deeds. Of the bruises upon the body of Madame

L’Espanaye I do not speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthy coadjutor
Monsieur Etienne, have pronounced that they were inflicted by some
obtuse instrument and so far these gentlemen are very correct. The

;

instrument was clearly the stone pavement in the yard, upon which the
victim had fallen from the window which looked in upon the bed. This

idea, however simple it may now seem, escaped the police for the same

—reason that the breadth of the shutters escaped them because, by the

affair of the nails, their perceptions had been hermetically sealed against
the possibility of the windows having ever been opened at all.

“ If now, in addition to all these things, you have properly reflected

upon the odd disorder of the chamber, we have gone so far as to combine

the ideas of an agility astounding, a strength superhuman, a ferocity
brutal, a butchery without motive, a grotesquerie in horror absolutely

alien from humanity, and a voice foreign in tone to the ears of men of
many nations, and devoid of all distinct or intelligible syllabification.
What result, then, has ensued ? What impression have I made upon

your fancy ? ”

i8 5

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

AI felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the question. “

—madman,” I said, “ has done this deed some raving maniac, escaped

from a neighbouring Maison de Sante .”
“ In some respects,” he replied, “ your idea is not irrelevant. But

the voices of madmen, even in their wildest paroxysms, are never found

to tally with that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Madmen are of

some nation, and their language, however incoherent in its words, has

always the coherence of syllabification. Besides, the hair of a madman

is not such as I now hold in my hand. I disentangled this little tuft from
the rigidly clutched fingers of Madame L’Espanaye. Tell me what

you can make of it.”

— “ Dupin ! ” I said, completely unnerved ; “ this hair is most unusual
this is no human hair.”
“ I have not asserted that it is,” said he “ but, before we decide
;
this point, I wish you to glance at the little sketch I have here traced

upon this paper. It is a jacsimile drawing of what has been described

in one portion of the testimony as ‘ dark bruises, and deep indentations
of finger-nails,’ upon the throat of Mademoiselle L’Espanaye, and in

another (by Messrs Dumas and Etienne), as a ‘ series of livid spots,

evidently the impression of fingers.’

“ You will perceive,” continued my friend, spreading out the paper

upon the table before us, “ that this drawing gives the idea of a firm
and fixed hold. There is no slipping apparent. Each finger has re-

— —tained possibly until the death of the victim the fearful grasp by

which it originally imbedded itself. Attempt, now, to place all your
fingers, at the same time, in the respective impressions as you see

them.”

I made the attempt in vain.

We“ are possibly not giving this matter a fair trial,” he said. “ The

paper is spread out upon a plane surface but the human throat is cylin-
;

drical. Here is a billet of wood, the circumference of which is about

that of the throat. Wrap the drawing around it, and try the experiment

again.”

I did so but the difficulty was even more obvious than before.
;

“ This,” I said, “ is the mark of no human hand.”

“ Read now,” replied Dupin, “ this passage from Cuvier.”

It was a minute anatomical and generally descriptive account of the

large fulvous Ourang-Outang of the East Indian Islands. The gigantic

stature, the prodigious strength and activity, the wild ferocity, and the

1 86

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

imitative propensities of these mammalia are sufficiently well known to

all. I understood the full horrors of the murder at once.

“ The description of the digits,” said I, as I made an end of reading,

“ is in exact accordance with this drawing. I see that no animal but an

Ourang-Outang, of the species here mentioned, could have impressed

the indentations as you have traced them. This tuft of tawny hair, too,

is identical with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I cannot possibly com-

prehend the particulars of this frightful mystery. Besides, there were

two voices heard in contention, and one of them was unquestionably the

voice of a Frenchman.”
“ True and you will remember an expression attributed almost

;

—unanimously, by the evidence, to this voice, the expression, ‘ mon Dieu ! ’

This, under the circumstances, has been justly characterized by one of the

witnesses (Montani, the confectioner), as an expression of remonstrance

or expostulation. Upon these two words, therefore, I have mainly built

Amy hopes of a full solution of the riddle. Frenchman was cognizant of
— —the murder. It is possible indeed it is far more than probable that

he was innocent of all participation in the bloody transactions which took

place. The Ourang-Outang may have escaped from him. He may have

traced it to the chamber but, under the agitating circumstances which
;

ensued, he could never have recaptured it. It is still at large. I will

— —not pursue these guesses for I have no right to call them more since

the shades of reflection upon which they are based are scarcely of sufficient

depth to be appreciable by my own intellect, and since I could not pretend

Weto make them intelligible to the understanding of another. will

call them guesses then, and speak of them as such. If the Frenchman in

question is indeed, as I suppose, innocent of this atrocity, this advertise-

ment, which I left last night, upon our return home, at the office of Le

Monde (a paper devoted to the shipping interest, and much sought by

sailors), will bring him to our residence.”

He handed me a paper, and I read thus :

— —Caught.
In the Bois de Boulogne early in the morning of the inst.
,

[the morning of the murder], a very large, tawny Ourang-Outang of the Bornese

species. The owner (who is ascertained to be a sailor, belonging to a Maltese

vessel) may have the animal again, upon identifying it satisfactorily and paying
—a few charges arising from its capture and keeping. Call at No.
, Rue ,

Faubourg Saint-Germain au troisieme.

“ How was it possible,” I asked, “ that you should know the man to

be a sailor, and belonging to a Maltese vessel ? ”

187

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

“ I do not know it,” said Dupin. “ I am not sure of it. Here, however,

is a small piece of ribbon, which from its form, and from its greasy appear-

ance, has evidently been used in tying the hair in one of those long queues
of which sailors are so fond. Moreover, this knot is one which few besides
sailors can tie, and is peculiar to the Maltese. I picked the ribbon up at the

foot of the lightning-rod. It could not have belonged to either of the deceased.

Now if, after all, I am wrong in my deduction from this ribbon, that the

Frenchman was a sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel, still I can have

done no harm in saying what I did in the advertisement. If I am in error,

he will merely suppose that I have been misled by some circumstance

into which he will not take the trouble to inquire. But if I am right,

a great point is gained. Cognizant although innocent of the murder,

the Frenchman will naturally hesitate about replying to the advertisement

— —about demanding the Ourang-Outang. He will reason thus : ‘ I
—am innocent I am poor my Ourang-Outang is of great value to one

—; ;

in my circumstances a fortune of itself why should I lose it through idle
apprehensions of danger ? Here it is, within my grasp. It was found in

—the Bois de Boulogne at a vast distance from the scene of that butchery.

How can it ever be suspected that a brute beast should have done the deed ?

—The police are at fault they have failed to procure the slightest clue.

Should they even trace the animal, it would be impossible to prove me

cognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilt on account of that

cognizance. Above all, I am known. The advertiser designates me

as the possessor of the beast. I am not sure to what limit his knowledge

may extend. Should I avoid claiming a property of so great value, which

it is known that I possess, I will render the animal, at least, liable to sus-

mypicion. It is not policy to attract attention either to myself or to the

beast. I will answer the advertisement, get the Ourang-Outang, and keep
it close until this matter has blown over.’ ”

At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs.

“ Be ready,” said Dupin, “ with your pistols, but neither use them nor

show them until at a signal from myself.”
The front door of the house had been left open, and the visitor had

entered, without ringing, and advanced several steps upon the staircase.
Now, however, he seemed to hesitate. Presently we heard him descending.
Dupin was moving quickly to the door, when we again heard him coming

up. He did not turn back a second time, but stepped up with decision

and rapped at the door of our chamber.

“ Come in,” said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone.

188

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

A —man entered. He was a sailor, evidently, a tall, stout, and muscular-

looking person, with a certain dare-devil expression of countenance,

not altogether unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was more

than half hidden by whisker and mustachio. He had with him a huge
oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise unarmed. He bowed awk-

wardly, and bade us “ good evening,” in French accents, which, although

somewhat Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently indicative of a Parisian

origin.

“ Sit down, my friend,” said Dupin. “ I suppose you have called

about the Ourang-Outang. Upon my word, I almost envy you the pos-

session of him a remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuable animal.
;
How old do suppose him to be ”
you
?

The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a man relieved of some

intolerable burthen, and then replied, in an assured tone :

—“ I have no way of telling but he can’t be more than four or five

years old. Have you got him here ? ”

“ Oh no we had no conveniences for keeping him here. He is at a
;

livery stable in the Rue Dubourg, just by. You can get him in the morn-
ing. Of course you are prepared to identify the property ? ”

“ To be sure I am, sir.”

“ I shall be sorry to part with him,” said Dupin.

“ I don’t mean that you should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir,”

Amsaid the man. “ Couldn’t expect it. very willing to pay a reward
—for the finding of the animal that is to say, anything in reason.”

my“ Well,” replied mefriend, “ that is all very fair, to be sure. Let
— MyOhthink ! what should I have ?
! I will tell you. reward shall be

this. You shall give me all the information in your power about these

murders in the Rue Morgue.”

Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and very quietly. Just

as quietly, too, he walked toward the door, locked it, and put the key

in his pocket. He then drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it, with-

out the least flurry, upon the table.

The sailor’s face flushed up as if he were struggling with suffocation.

He started to his feet and grasped his cudgel but the next moment he
;

fell back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the countenance of

death itself. He spoke not a word. I pitied him from the bottom of

my heart.

My“ friend,” said Dupin, in a kind tone, “ you are alarming yourself

—unnecessarily you are indeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I

189

—

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

pledge you the honour of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we

intend you no injury. I perfectly well know that you are innocent of

the atrocities in the Rue Morgue. It will not do, however, to deny that

you are in some measure implicated in them. From what I have already

said, you must know that I have had means of information about this

—matter means of which you could never have dreamed. Now the thing

stands thus. You have done nothing which you could have avoided

nothing, certainly, which renders you culpable. You were not even

guilty of robbery, when you might have robbed with impunity. You

have nothing to conceal. You have no reason for concealment. On the

other hand, you are bound by every principle of honour to confess all

you know. An innocent man is now imprisoned, charged with that crime

of which you can point out the perpetrator.”

The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in a great measure,

while Dupin uttered these words but his original boldness of bearing
;

was all gone.

“ So help me God,” said he, after a brief pause, “ I will tell you all

—I know about this affair ; but I do not expect you to believe one half I
—say I would be a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am innocent, and I will

make a clean breast if I die for it.”*

What he stated was, in substance, this. He had lately made a voyage

Ato the Indian Archipelago. party, of which he formed one, landed at

Borneo, and passed into the interior on an excursion of pleasure. Him-

self and a companion had captured the Ourang-Outang. This com-

panion dying, the animal fell into his own exclusive possession. After

great trouble, occasioned by the intractable ferocity of his captive during

the home voyage, he at length succeeded in lodging it safely at his own

residence in Paris, where, not to attract toward himself the unpleasant

curiosity of his neighbours, he kept it carefully secluded, until such

time as it should recover from a wound in the foot, received from a splinter

on board ship. His ultimate design was to sell it.

Returning home from some sailors’ frolic on the night, or rather in the
morning of the murder, he found the beast occupying his own bedroom,

into which it had broken from a closet adjoining, where it had been, as
was thought, securely confined. Razor in hand, and fully lathered, it
was sitting before a looking-glass, attempting the operation of shaving,
in which it had no doubt previously watched its master through the key-
hole of the closet. Terrified at the sight of so dangerous a weapon in the
possession of an animal so ferocious, and so well able to use it, the man*

190

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

for some moments, was at a loss what to do. He had been accustomed,

however, to quiet the creature, even in its fiercest moods, by the use of a

whip, and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of it, the Ourang-Outang
sprang at once through the door of the chamber, down the stairs, and

thence, through a window, unfortunately open, into the street.

The Frenchman followed in despair the ape, razor still in hand,
;

occasionally stopping to look back and gesticulate at its pursuer, until

the latter had nearly come up with it. It then again made off. In this
manner the chase continued for a long time. The streets were profoundly

quiet, as it was nearly three o’clock in the morning. In passing down an

alley in the rear of the Rue Morgue, the fugitive’s attention was arrested

by a light gleaming from the open window of Madame L’Espanaye’s

chamber, in the fourth story of her house. Rushing to the building,

it perceived the lightning-rod, clambered up with inconceivable agility,

grasped the shutter, which was thrown fully back against the wall, and,

by its means, swung itself directly upon the head-board of the bed. The

whole feat did not occupy a minute. The shutter was kicked open again

by the Ourang-Outang as it entered the room.

The sailor, in the meantime, was both rejoiced and perplexed. He

had strong hopes of now capturing the brute, as it could scarcely escape

from the trap into which it had ventured, except by the rod, where it

might be intercepted as it came down. On the other hand, there was

much cause for anxiety as to what it might do in the house. This latter

Areflection urged the man still to follow the fugitive. lightning-rod is

ascended without difficulty, especially by a sailor but, when he had
;

arrived as high as the window, which lay far to his left, his career was

stopped the most that he could accomplish was to reach over so as to
;

obtain a glimpse of the interior of the room. At this glimpse he nearly

Nowfell from his hold through excess of horror. it was that those hideous

shrieks arose upon the night, which had startled from slumber the inmates

of the Rue Morgue. Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter, habited

in their night clothes, had apparently been arranging some papers in the

iron chest already mentioned, which had been wheeled into the middle

of the room. It was open, and its contents lay beside it on the floor.

The victims must have been sitting with their backs toward the window
;

and, from the time elapsing between the ingress of the beast and the

screams, it seems probable that it was not immediately perceived. The

flapping-to of the shutter would naturally have been attributed to the

wind.

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had seized Madame

L’Espanaye by the hair (which was loose, as she had been combing it),
and was flourishing the razor about her face, in imitation of the motions

of a barber. The daughter lay prostrate and motionless she had
;

swooned. The screams and struggles of the old lady (during which the

hair was torn from her head) had the effect of changing the probably
pacific purposes of the Ourang-Outang into those of wrath. With one
determined sweep of its muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her

body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into frenzy. Gnashing its

teeth, and flashing fire from its eyes, it flew upon the body of the girl, and
imbedded its fearful talons in her throat, retaining its grasp until she
expired. Its wandering and wild glances fell at this moment upon the
head of the bed, over which the face of its master, rigid with horror, was

just discernible. The fury of the beast, who no doubt bore still in mind

the dreaded whip, was instantly converted into fear. Conscious of having
deserved punishment, it seemed desirous of concealing its bloody deeds,
and skipped about the chamber in an agony of nervous agitation throwing

;

down and breaking the furniture as it moved, and dragging the bed

from the bedstead. In conclusion, it seized first the corpse of the daughter,
and thrust it up the chimney, as it was found then that of the old lady,

;

which it immediately hurled through the window headlong.
As the ape approached the casement with its mutilated burthen, the

sailor shrank aghast to the rod, and, rather gliding than clambering down

—it, hurried at once home dreading the consequences of the butchery,

and gladly abandoning, in his terror, all solicitude about the fate of the

Ourang-Outang. The words heard by the party upon the staircase were

the Frenchman’s exclamations of horror and affright, commingled with

the fiendish jabberings of the brute.

I have scarcely anything to add. The Ourang-Outang must have

escaped from the chamber by the rod, just before the breaking of the door.
It must have closed the window as it passed through it. It was subse-

quently caught by the owner himself, who obtained for it a very large
sum at the Jardin des Plantes. Le Bon was instantly released, upon our
narration of the circumstances (with some comments from Dupin) at the

bureau of the Prefect of Police. This functionary, however well disposed

to my friend, could not altogether conceal his chagrin at the turn which

affairs had taken, and was fain to indulge in a sarcasm or two, about the

propriety of every person minding his own business.
“ Let him talk,” said Dupin, who had not thought it necessary to

192

GNASHING ITS TEETH, AND FLASHING FIRE FROM ITS EYES. 192
IT FLEW UPON THE BODY OF THE GIRL



THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

reply. “ Let him discourse ; amit will ease his conscience. I satisfied

with having defeated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, that he failed

in the solution of this mystery is by no means that matter for wonder

which he supposes it for in truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhat too
;

cunning to be profound. In his wisdom is no stamen. It is all head and

—no body, like the pictures of the Goddess Laverna, or, at best, all head

and shoulders, like a codfish. But he is a good creature after all. I like

him especially for one master-stroke of cant, by which he has attained his

reputation for ingenuity. I mean the way he has ‘ de nier ce qui est et
d’ expliquer ce qui n’est pas.’ ” 1 ,

1 Rousseau, Nouvelle Heloise.

N 193

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGfcT 1

A SEQUEL TO “ THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE ”

Es giebt eine Reihe idealischer Begebenheiten, die der Wirklichkeit

parallel lauft. Selten fallen sie zusammen. Menschen und Zufalle modi-

ficiren gewobnlich die idealische Begebenheit, so dass sie unvollkommen

erscheint, und ihre Folgen gleichfalls unvollkommen sind. So bei der Re-

formation statt des Protestantismus kam das Lutherthum hervor.
;

There are ideal series of events which run parallel with the real ones.

They rarely coincide. Men and circumstances generally modify the ideal

train of events, so that it seems imperfect, and its consequences are equally

imperfect. Thus with the Reformation instead of Protestantism came
;

Lutheranism. Novalis, Moral Ansichten

HERE are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who

have not occasionally been startled into a vague yet thrilling

T half-credence in the supernatural, by coincidences of so seemingly
marvellous a character that, as mere coincidences, the intellect

—has been unable to receive them. Such sentiments for the half-credences
—of which I speak have never the full force of thought such sentiments

are seldom thoroughly stifled unless by reference to the doctrine of chance,

Nowor, as it is technically termed, the Calculus of Probabilities. this

Calculus is, in its essence, purely mathematical and thus we have the
;

1 tfpon the original publication of Marie Roget, the footnotes now appended were considered

unnecessary but the lapse of several years since the tragedy upon which the tale is based, renders
;

Ait expedient to give them, and also to say a few words in explanation of the general design. young

girl, Mary Cecilia Rogers, was murdered in the vicinity of New York ; and although her death occasioned

an intense and long-enduring excitement, the mystery attending it had remained unsolved at the period

when the present paper was written and published (November, 1842). Herein, under pretence of

relating the fate of a Parisian grisette, the author has followed, in minute detail, the essential, while

merely paralleling the inessential, facts of the real murder of Mary Rogers. Thus all argument upon

the fiction is applicable to the truth : and the investigation of the truth was the object.

The Mystery of Marie Roget was composed at a distance from the scene of the atrocity, and with
no other means of investigation than the newspapers afforded. Thus much escaped the writer of which

he could have availed himself had he been upon the spot and visited the localities. It may not be
improper to record, nevertheless, that the confessions of two persons (one of them the Madame Deluc

of the narrative), made, at different periods, long subsequent to the publication, confirmed, in full,

not only the general conclusion, but absolutely all the chief hypothetical details by which that conclusion

was attained.

194

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET

anomaly of the most rigidly exact in science applied to the shadow and
spirituality of the most intangible in speculation.

The extraordinary details which I am now called upon to make public,

will be found to form, as regards sequence of time, the primary branch of a
series of scarcely intelligible coincidences, whose secondary or concluding

branch will be recognized by all readers in the late murder of Mary
Cecilia Rogers, at New York.

When, in an article entitled, The Murders in the Rue Morgue I en-
,

deavoured, about a year ago, to depict some very remarkable features

in the mental character of my friend, the Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin,
it did not occur to me that I should ever resume the subject. This de-
picting of character constituted my design and this design was thoroughly

;

fulfilled in the wild train of circumstances brought to instance Dupin’s
idiosyncrasy. I might have adduced other examples, but I should have
proven no more. Late events, however, in their surprising development,

have startled me into some further details, which will carry with them the

air of extorted confession. Hearing what I have lately heard, it would be
indeed strange should I remain silent in regard to what I both heard and
saw long ago.

Upon the winding up of the tragedy involved in the deaths of Madame

L’Espanaye and her daughter, the Chevalier dismissed the affair at once

from his attention, and relapsed into his old habits of moody reverie.
Prone, at all times, to abstraction, I readily fell in with his humour and,

;

continuing to occupy our chambers in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, we

gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the Present,
weaving the dull world around us into dreams.

But these dreams were not altogether uninterrupted. It may readily

be supposed that the part played by my friend, in the drama at the Rue

Morgue, had not failed of its impression upon the fancies of the Parisian
police. With its emissaries, the name of Dupin had grown into a household

word. The simple character of those inductions by which he had dis-

entangled the mystery never having been explained even to the Prefect,
or to any other individual than myself, of course it is not surprising that
the affair was regarded as little less than miraculous, or that the Chevalier’s
analytical abilities acquired for him the credit of intuition. His frankness
would have led him to disabuse every inquirer of such prejudice but his

;

indolent humour forbade all further agitation of a topic whose interest to

himself had long ceased. It thus happened that he found himself the
cynosure of the political eyes and the cases were not few in which at-

;

195

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

tempt was made to engage his services at the Prefecture. One of the most
remarkable instances was that of the murder of a young girl named Marie

Roget.

This event occurred about two years after the atrocity in the Rue
Morgue. Marie, whose Christian and family name will at once arrest

attention from their resemblance to those of the unfortunate “ cigar-

girl,” was the only daughter of the widow Estelle Roget. The father had

died during the child’s infancy, and from the period of his death, until
within eighteen months before the assassination which forms the subject

of our narrative, the mother and daughter had dwelt together in the Rue

Pavee Sainte-Andree 1 Madame there keeping a pension assisted by
;,

Marie. Affairs went on thus until the latter had attained her twenty-

second year, when her great beauty attracted the notice of a perfumer,
who occupied one of the shops in the basement of the Palais-Royal, and
whose custom lay chiefly among the desperate adventurers infesting that
neighbourhood. Monsieur Le Blanc 2 was not unaware of the advantages

to be derived from the attendance of the fair Marie in his perfumery and
;

his liberal proposals were accepted eagerly by the girl, although with some-

what more of hesitation by Madame.
The anticipations of the shopkeeper were realized, and his rooms

soon became notorious through the charms of the sprightly grisette.
She had been in his employ about a year, when her admirers were thrown
into confusion by her sudden disappearance from the shop. Monsieur

Le Blanc was unable to account for her absence, and Madame Roget was
distracted with anxiety and terror. The public papers immediately

took up the theme, and the police were upon the point of making
serious investigations, when, one morning, after a lapse of a week, Marie,
in good health, but with a somewhat saddened air, made her

reappearance at her usual counter in the perfumery. All inquiry, ex-

cept that of a private character, was, of course, immediately hushed.

Monsieur Le Blanc professed total ignorance, as before. Marie, with
Madame, replied to all questions, that the last week had been spent at
the house of a relation in the country. Thus the affair died away, and

was generally forgotten for the girl, ostensibly to relieve herself
;

from the impertinence of curiosity, soon bade a final adieu to the
perfumer, and sought the shelter of her mother’s residence in the

Rue Pavee Sainte-Andree.
It was about five months after this return home, that her friends were

1 Nassau Street. 2 Anderson.

196





THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET

alarmed by her sudden disappearance for the second time. Three days

elapsed, and nothing was heard of her. On the fourth her corpse was

found floating in the Seine 1 near the shore which is opposite the Quartier
,

of the Rue Sainte-Andree, and at a point not very far distant from the
secluded neighbourhood of the Barriere du Roule .2

The atrocity of this murder (for it was at once evident that murder

had been committed), the youth and beauty of the victim, and, above all,
her previous notoriety, conspired to produce intense excitement in the
minds of the sensitive Parisians. I can call to mind no similar occurrence
producing so general and so intense an effect. For several weeks, in the
discussion of this one absorbing theme, even the momentous political

topics of the day were forgotten. The Prefect made unusual exertions
;

and the powers of the whole Parisian police were, of course, tasked to the

utmost extent.

Upon the first discovery of the corpse, it was not supposed that the

murderer would be able to elude, for more than a very brief period, the
inquisition which was immediately set on foot. It was not until the ex-
piration of a week that it was deemed necessary to offer a reward and

;

even then this reward was limited to a thousand francs. In the meantime
the investigation proceeded with vigour, if not always with judgment,
and numerous individuals were examined to no purpose; while, owing

to the continual absence of all clue to the mystery, the popular excite-

ment greatly increased. At the end of the tenth day it was thought ad-

visable to double the sum originally proposed and, at length, the second
;

week having elapsed without leading to any discoveries, and the prejudice

which always exists in Paris against the police having given vent to itself
in several serious emeutes the Prefect took it upon himself to offer the

,

sum of twenty thousand francs “ for the conviction of the assassin,” or,
if more than one should prove to have been implicated, “ for the conviction

of any one of the assassins.” In the proclamation setting forth this reward,

a full pardon was promised to any accomplice who should come forward in

evidence against his fellow and to the whole was appended, wherever it
;

appeared, the private placard of a committee of citizens, offering ten
thousand francs, in addition to the amount proposed by the Prefecture.

The entire reward thus stood at no less than thirty thousand francs,
which will be regarded as an extraordinary sum when we consider the

humble condition of the girl, and the great frequency, in large cities, of
such atrocities as the one described.

1 The Hudson. 2 Weehawken.

197

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

No one doubted now that the mystery of this murder would be im-

mediately brought to light. But although, in one or two instances, arrests

were made which promised elucidation, yet nothing was elicited which

could implicate the parties suspected and they were discharged forth-
;

with. Strange as it may appear, the third week from the discovery of the

body had passed, and passed without any light being thrown upon the

subject, before even a rumour of the events which had so agitated the public

mind reached the ears of Dupin and myself. Engaged in researches

which had absorbed our whole attention, it had been nearly a month

since either of us had gone abroad, or received a visitor, or more than

glanced at the leading political articles in one of the daily papers. The

Gfirst intelligence of the murder was brought us by , in person. He

—called upon us early in the afternoon of the 13th of July, 18 and remained,

with us until late in the night. He had been piqued by the failure of all

—his endeavours to ferret out the assassins. His reputation so he said
—with a peculiarly Parisian air was at stake. Even his honour was con-

cerned. The eyes of the public were upon him and there was really
;

no sacrifice which he would not be willing to make for the development

of the mystery. He concluded a somewhat droll speech with a compli-

ment upon what he was pleased to term the tact of Dupin, and made him

a direct and certainly a liberal proposition, the precise nature of which I

do not feel myself at liberty to disclose, but which has no bearing upon

the proper subject of my narrative.
The compliment my friend rebutted as best he could, but the pro-

position he accepted at once, although its advantages were altogether

provisional. This point being settled, the Prefect broke forth at once into

explanations of his own views, interspersing them with long comments
upon the evidence of which latter we were not yet in possession. He

;

discoursed much and, beyond doubt, learnedly while I hazarded an
;

occasional suggestion as the night wore drowsily away. Dupin, sitting

steadily in his accustomed arm-chair, was the embodiment of respectful

attention. He wore spectacles, during the whole interview and an
;

occasional glance beneath their green glasses sufficed to convince me that

he slept not the less soundly, because silently, throughout the seven or

eight leaden-footed hours which immediately preceded the departure of

the Prefect.
In the morning, I procured, at the Prefecture, a full report of all

the evidence elicited, and, at the various newspaper offices, a copy of
every paper in which, from first to last, had been published any decisive

198

,

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET

information in regard to this sad affair. Freed from all that was positively

disproved, the mass of information stood thus :

Marie Roget left the residence of her mother, in the Rue Pavee Sainte-

—Andree, about nine o’clock in the morning of Sunday, the 22nd June, 18

In going out, she gave notice to a Monsieur Jacques Saint-Eustache, 1 and to

him only, of her intention to spend the day with an aunt, who resided in

the Rue des Dromes. The Rue des Dromes is a short and narrow but

populous thoroughfare, not far from the banks of the river, and at a dis-

tance of some two miles, in the most direct course possible, from th t pension

of Madame Roget. Saint-Eustache was the accepted suitor of Marie, and

lodged, as well as took his meals, at the pension. He was to have gone

for his betrothed at dusk, and to have escorted her home. In the after-

noon, however, it came on to rain heavily and, supposing that she would
;

remain at her aunt’s (as she had done under similar circumstances before),

he did not think it necessary to keep his promise. As night drew on,

Madame Roget (who was an infirm old lady, seventy years of age) was

heard to express a fear “ that she should never see Marie again ” but
;

this observation attracted little attention at the time.

On Monday it was ascertained that the girl had not been to the Rue

des Dromes and when the day elapsed without tidings of her, a tardy
;

search was instituted at several points in the city and its environs. It

was not, however, until the fourth day from the period of her disappear-

ance that anything satisfactory was ascertained respecting her. On this

day (Wednesday, June the 25th) a Monsieur Beauvais, 2 who, with a friend,

had been making inquiries for Marie near the Barriere du Roule, on the

shore of the Seine which is opposite the Rue Pavee Sainte-Andree, was

informed that a corpse had just been towed ashore by some fishermen, who

had found it floating in the river. Upon seeing the body, Beauvais, after

some hesitation, identified it as that of the perfumery-girl. His friend

recognized it more promptly.

The face was suffused with dark blood, some of which issued from the

mouth. No foam was seen, as in the case of the merely drowned. There

was no discoloration in the cellular tissue. About the throat were bruises

and impressions of fingers. The arms were bent over on the chest, and

were rigid. The right hand was clenched Onthe left partially open.
;

the left wrist were two circular excoriations, apparently the effect of ropes,

Aor of a rope in more than one volution. part of the right wrist, also,

was much chafed, as well as the back throughout its extent, but more

1 Payne. * Crommelin.

*99

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

especially at the shoulder-blades. In bringing the body to the shore
the fishermen had attached to it a rope, but none of the excoriations had

been effected by this. The flesh of the neck was much swollen. There

were no cuts apparent, or bruises which appeared the effect of blows.

A piece of lace was found tied so tightly around the neck as to be

hidden from sight it was completely buried in the flesh, and was
;

fastened by a knot which lay just under the left ear. This alone

would have sufficed to produce death. The medical testimony spoke

confidently of the virtuous character of the deceased. She had been

subjected, it said, to brutal violence. The corpse was in such condition
when found that there could have been no difficulty in its recognition by

friends.

The dress was much torn and otherwise disordered. In the outer

garment, a slip, about a foot wide, had been torn upward from the bottom

hem to the waist, but not torn off. It was wound three times around
the waist, and secured by a sort of hitch in the back. The dress im-

mediately beneath the frock was of fine muslin and from this a slip
;

—eighteen inches wide had been torn entirely out torn very evenly and with

great care. It was found around her neck, fitting loosely, and secured

with a hard knot. Over this muslin slip and the slip of lace, the strings of

a bonnet were attached, the bonnet being appended. The knot by which

the strings of the bonnet were fastened was not a lady’s, but a slip or

sailor’s knot.

After the recognition of the corpse, it was not, as usual, taken to the
Morgue (this formality being superfluous), but hastily interred not far

from the spot at which it was brought ashore. Through the exertions

of Beauvais, the matter was industriously hushed up, as far as possible
;

Aand several days had elapsed before any public emotion resulted.

weekly paper 1 however, at length took up the theme the corpse was
,;

disinterred, and a re-examination instituted but nothing was elicited
;

beyond what has been already noted. The clothes, however, were now

submitted to the mother and friends of the deceased, and fully identified

as those worn by the girl upon leaving home.

Meantime, the excitement increased hourly. Several individuals were

arrested and discharged. Saint-Eustache fell especially under suspicion
;

and he failed, at first, to give an intelligible account of his whereabouts

during the Sunday on which Marie left home. Subsequently, however, he

Gsubmitted to Monsieur affidavits, accounting satisfactorily for every

,

1 The New York Mercury.

200

—

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET

hour of the day in question. As time passed and no discovery ensued, a

thousand contradictory rumours were circulated, and journalists busied

themselves in suggestions. Among these, the one which attracted the

—most notice, was the idea that Marie Roget still lived that the corpse

found in the Seine was that of some other unfortunate. It will be proper
that I submit to the reader some passages which embody the suggestion
alluded to. These passages are literal translations from L'Etoile* a

paper conducted, in general, with much ability.

“ Mademoiselle Roget left her mother’s house on Sunday morning,

—June the 22nd, 18 ,with the ostensible purpose of going to see her aunt, or

some other connexion, in the Rue des Dromes. From that hour, nobody

is proved to have seen her. There is no trace or tidings of her at all.

. . . There has no person, whatever, come forward, so far, who saw her
at all, on that day, after she left her mother’s door. . . . Now, though we

have no evidence that Marie Roget was in the land of the living after nine

o’clock on Sunday, June the 22nd, we have proof that, up to that hour, she

was alive. On Wednesday noon, at twelve, a female body was discovered

afloat on the shore of the Barriere du Roule. This was, even if we presume

that Marie Roget was thrown into the river within three hours after she

left her nother’s house, only three days from the time she left her home

three days to an hour. But it is folly to suppose that the murder, if murder
was committed on her body, could have been consummated soon enough
to have enabled her murderers to throw the body into the river before

midnight. Those who are guilty of such horrid crimes choose darkness
rather than light. . . . Thus we see that if the body found in the river

was that of Marie Roget, it could only have been in the water two and a
half days, or three at the outside. All experience has shown that drowned
bodies, or bodies thrown into the water immediately after death by violence,

require from six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to take place
to bring them to the top of the water. Even where a cannon is fired over

a corpse, and it rises before, at least, five or six days’ immersion, it sinks

again, if let alone. Now, we ask what was there in this case to cause a
departure from the ordinary course of nature ? ... If the body had been
kept in its mangled state on shore until Tuesday night, some trace would

be found on shore of the murderers. It is a doubtful point, also, whether
the body would be so soon afloat, even were it thrown in after having been
dead two days. And, furthermore, it is exceedingly improbable that any

villains who had committed such a murder as is here supposed, would have

1 The New York Brother Jonathan, edited by H. Hastings Weld, Esq.

201

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

thrown the body in without weight to sink it, when such a precaution

could have so easily been taken.”

The editor here proceeds to argue that the body must have been in

water “ not three days merely, but, at least, five times three days,” because

it was so far decomposed that Beauvais had great difficulty in recognizing
it. This latter point, however, was fully disproved. I continue the

translation :

“ What, then, are the facts on which M. Beauvais says that he has
no doubt the body was that of Marie Roget ? He ripped up the gown
sleeve, and says he found marks which satisfied him of the identity. The
public generally supposed those marks to have consisted of some descrip-

—tion of scars. He rubbed the arm and found hair upon it something as
—indefinite, we think, as can readily be imagined as little conclusive as

finding an arm in the sleeve. M. Beauvais did not return that night,
but sent word to Madame Roget, at seven o’clock, on Wednesday evening,

that an investigation was still in progress respecting her daughter. If

we allow that Madame Roget, from her age and grief, could not go over

(which is allowing a great deal), there certainly must have been some one

who would have thought it worth while to go over and attend the in-
vestigation, if they thought the body was that of Marie. Nobody went over.
There was nothing said or heard about the matter in the Rue Pavee

Sainte-Andree, that reached even the occupants of the same building.

M. Saint-Eustache, the lover and intended husband of Marie, who boarded

in her mother’s house, deposes that he did not hear of the discovery of

the body of his intended until the next morning, when M. Beauvais came
into his chamber and told him of it. For an item of news like this, it

strikes us it was very coolly received.”
In this way the journal endeavoured to create the impression of an

apathy on the part of the relatives of Marie, inconsistent with the supposi-

tion that these relatives believed the corpse to be hers. Its insinuations
amount to this : that Marie, with the connivance of her friends, had
absented herself from the city for reasons involving a charge against her

chastity and that these friends upon the discovery of a corpse in the Seine,
;

somewhat resembling that of the girl, had availed themselves of the oppor-
tunity to impress the public with the belief of her death. But L'Etoile
was again over-hasty. It was distinctly proved that no apathy, such as
was imagined, existed that the old lady was exceedingly feeble, and so

;

agitated as to be unable to attend to any duty that Saint-Eustache, so far
;

from receiving the news coolly, was distracted with grief, and bore himself

202

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET

so frantically, that M. Beauvais prevailed upon a friend and relative to

take charge of him, and prevent his attending the examination at the dis-

interment. Moreover, although it was stated by L’Etoile, that the corpse

was re-interred at the public expense, that an advantageous offer of

private sepulture was absolutely declined by the family, and that no

—member of the family attended the ceremonial ; although, I say, all this

was asserted by L’Etoile in furtherance of the impression it designed

—to convey yet all this was satisfactorily disproved. In a subsequent

number of the paper, an attempt was made to throw suspicion upon

Beauvais himself. The editor says :

“ Now, then, a change comes over the matter. We are told that,

on one occasion, while a Madame B was at Madame Roget’s house,

M. Beauvais, who was going out, told her that a gendarme was expected

there, and that she, Madame B must not say anything to the gendarme

,

until he returned, but let the matter be for him. ... In the present

posture of affairs M. Beauvais appears to have the whole matter locked

Aup in his head. single step cannot be taken without M. Beauvais, for

go which way you will, you run against him. ... For some reason he

determined that nobody shall have anything to do with the proceed-

ings but himself, and he has elbowed the male relatives out of the way,

according to their representations, in a very singular manner. He seems

to have been very much averse to permitting the relatives to see the

body.”

By the following fact, some colour was given to the suspicion thus

Athrown upon Beauvais. visitor at his office, a few days prior to the girl’s

disappearance, and during the absence of its occupant, had observed a

rose in the keyhole of the door, and the name ‘ Marie ’ inscribed upon a

slate which hung near at hand.

The general impression, so far as we were enabled to glean it from the

newspapers, seemed to be, that Marie had been the victim of a gang

—of desperadoes that by these she had been borne across the river, mal-

treated, and murdered. Le Commerciel, 1 however, a print of extensive

influence, was earnest in combating this popular idea. I quote a passage

or two from its columns :

We“ are persuaded that pursuit has hitherto been on a false scent

so far as it has been directed to the Barriere du Roule. It is impossible

that a person so well known to thousands as this young woman was,

should have passed three blocks without some one having seen her
;

1 New York Journal of Commerce.

203

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

and any one who saw her would have remembered it, for she interested
all who knew her. It was when the streets were full of people, when she
went out. ... It is impossible that she could have gone to the Barriere
du Roule, or to the Rue des Dromes, without being recognized by a dozen
persons yet no one has come forward who saw her outside her mother’s

;

door, and there is no evidence except the testimony concerning her ex-

pressed intentions that she did go out at all. Her gown was torn, bound
,
round her, and tied and by that the body was carried as a bundle. If
;
the murder had been committed at the Barriere du Roule, there would
have been no necessity for any such arrangement. The fact that the body

was found floating near the Barriere is no proof as to where it was thrown

Ainto the water. ... piece of one of the unfortunate girl’s petticoats,

two feet long and one foot wide, was tom out and tied under her chin

around the back of her head, probably to prevent screams. This was done

by fellows who had no pocket-handkerchiefs.”

A day or two before the Prefect called upon us, however, some im-

portant information reached the police, which seemed to overthrow,

at least, the chief portion of Le CommercieVs argument. Two small boys,
sons of a Madame Deluc, while roaming among the woods near the Barriere

du Roule, chanced to penetrate a close thicket, within which were three

or four large stones, forming a kind of seat with a back and footstool. On
Athe upper stone lay a white petticoat on the second, a silk scarf.

;

parasol, gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief were also here found. The
handkerchief bore the name ‘ Marie Roget.’ Fragments of dress were
discovered on the brambles around. The earth was trampled, the bushes

were broken, and there was every evidence of a struggle. Between the
thicket and the river, the fences were found taken down, and the ground

bore evidence of some heavy burthen having been dragged along it.

A weekly paper, Le Soleil 1 had the following comments upon this

—,

discovery comments which merely echoed the sentiment of the whole

Parisian press :

“ The things had all evidently been there at least three or four weeks
;

they were all mildewed down hard with the action of the rain, and stuck
together from mildew. The grass had grown around and over some
of them. The silk on the parasol was strong, but the threads of it were
run together within. The upper part, where it had been doubled and

folded, was all mildewed and rotten, and tore on its being opened. . . .

The pieces of her frock torn out by the bushes were about three inches

1 Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post, edited by C. I. Peterson, Esq.

204

—

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET

wide and six inches long. One part was the hem of the frock, and it had

been mended the other piece was part of the skirt, not the hem. They
;

looked like strips torn off, and were on the thorn bush, about a foot from

the ground. . . . There can be no doubt, therefore, that the spot of this

appalling outrage has been discovered.”

Consequent upon this discovery, new evidence appeared. Madame

Deluc testified that she keeps a roadside inn not far from the bank of the

river, opposite the Barriere du Roule. The neighbourhood is secluded

particularly so. It is the usual Sunday resort of blackguards from the

city, who cross the river in boats. About three o’clock, in the afternoon

of the Sunday in question, a young girl arrived at the inn accompanied by

a young man of dark complexion. The two remained here for some time.
On their departure, they took the road to some thick woods in the vicinity.

Madame Deluc’s attention was called to the dress worn by the girl, on

Aaccount of its resemblance to one worn by a deceased relative. scarf

was particularly noticed. Soon after the departure of the couple, a gang

of miscreants made their appearance, behaved boisterously, ate and drank
without making payment, followed in the route of the young man and girl,

returned to the inn about dusk, and re-crossed the river as if in great haste.

It was soon after dark, upon this same evening, that Madame Deluc,

as well as her eldest son, heard the screams of a female in the vicinity of

the inn. The screams were violent but brief. Madame D. recognized

not only the scarf which was found in the thicket, but the dress which was

discovered upon the corpse. An omnibus driver, Valence 1 now also
,

testified that he saw Marie Roget cross a ferry on the Seine, on the Sunday

in question, in company with a young man of dark complexion. He,
Valence, knew Marie, and could not be mistaken in her identity. The

articles found in the thicket were fully identified by the relatives of Marie.

The items of evidence and information thus collected by myself, from

the newspapers, at the suggestion of Dupin, embraced only one more

—point but this was a point of seemingly vast consequence. It appears

that, immediately after the discovery of the clothes as above described,

the lifeless or nearly lifeless body of Saint-Eustache, Marie’s betrothed, was

found in the vicinity of what all now supposed the scene of the outrage.

A phial labelled ‘ laudanum,’ and emptied, was found near him. His

breath gave evidence of the poison. He died without speaking. Upon

his person was found a letter, briefly stating his love for Marie, with his

design of self-destruction.

1 Adam.

205

TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

“ I need scarcely tell you,” said Dupin, as he finished the perusal of

my notes, “ that this is a far more intricate case than that of the Rue

Morgue from which it differs in one important respect. This is an
;

ordinary although an atrocious, instance of crime. There is nothing
,

peculiarly outre about it. You will observe that, for this reason, the

mystery has been considered easy, when, for this reason, it should have

been considered difficult of solution. Thus, at first, it was thought

unnecessary to offer a reward. The myrmidons of G were able

at once to comprehend how and why such an atrocity might have been

—committed. They could picture to their imaginations a mode many
— —modes, and a motive many motives and because it was not impossible

;

that either of these numerous modes and motives could have been the

actual one, they have taken it for granted that one of them must. But

the ease with which these variable fancies were entertained, and the very

plausibility which each assumed, should have been understood as indica-

tive rather of the difficulties than of the facilities which must attend

elucidation. I have therefore observed that it is by prominences above

the plane of the ordinary, that reason feels her way, if at all, in her search

for the true, and that the proper question in cases such as this is not so

much ‘ what has occurred ? ’ as ‘ what has occurred that has never occurred

before ? ’ In the investigations at the house of Madame L’Espanaye 1
,

Gthe agents of were discouraged and confounded by that very

unusualness which, to a properly regulated intellect, would have afforded

the surest omen of success while this same intellect might have been
;

plunged in despair at the ordinary character of all that met the eye in the

case of the perfumery-girl, and yet told of nothing but easy triumph to

the functionaries of the Prefecture.

“ In the case of Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter, there was,

even at the beginning of our investigation, no doubt that murder had

been committed. The idea of suicide was excluded at once. Here, too,

we are freed, at the commencement, from all supposition of self-murder.

The body found at the Barriere du Roule was found under such circum-

stances as to leave us no room for embarrassment upon this important

point. But it has been suggested that the corpse discovered is not that

of the Marie Roget for the conviction of whose assassin, or assassins,

the reward is offered, and respecting whom, solely, our agreement has

been arranged with the Prefect. We both know this gentleman well.

It will not do to trust him too far. If, dating our inquiries from the body

1 See Murders in the Rue Morgue.

206