HUNTED DOWN

Observer, Volume 2, Issue 32, 23 April 1881, Page 342

HUNTED DOWN

A NOVEL,

By Adolfhe Belot

CHAPTER XXVlll.— (Continued.) "Yes," exclaimed Brownpath, "my very life belongs to you." For a considerable time past he had been meditating an important revelation to Eleanor. An unendurable burden was weighing him down, he was tortured by a constantly recurring thought, and his greatest enjoyments were poisoned by a piercing sorrow. It seemed to him that if he could confide his secret to somebody, if he could pour himself out, as it were, on the heart of a friend, if he could make a clean breast of it and weep, his sufferings would be lessened. Above all, if Eleanor, in whom he had implicit confidence, would listen to his tale, and, after having heard it, could give him absolution, he would be saved, But though always on the eve of speaking, he had as yet held his tongue. This time he made up his mind to confession.

"A secret oppresses me. Would you like me to confide it to you?" " Certainly," she replied simply. "If it were true ; if in a moment of anger and madness I had stabbed a man ?"

She turned pale and shrank back. "And if," added Brownpath, "by an unheard of fatality, the man died from the effects of that blow?"

"Be silent, be silent," she cried instinctively. " No," he replied, " I have begun and I must finish. This secret stifles me. You must either condemn or absolve me."

Again she attempted to stop him, but he no longer listened to her. He had risen _ and was pacing the room with feverish and impatient strides.

"Hear me, and learn to know me. As a rule calm and self-possessed, I have moments when I am carried away by passion, and have no longer control over myself. Sometimes certain wines make me lose my head. I had been dining at a restaurant. I was worried and anxious, and to drown my care, I allowed myself to be persuaded to drink more than my custom was. After dinner I went to see a young man with whom I had already had some serious disputes on money matters. I owed him a large sum ; I was not in a position to pay him and 1 wished to let him know it. I found him alone in his rooms ; he had just come home and was going to bed. He received me with coldness. I explained to him my embarrassment and the difficulties I was in, and I begged him not to take proceedings. I said to him, ' You wDI only ruin me and deprive me of the small amount of credit remaining to me on the Change, on which I am dependent for a living !' fie replied ' that was no business of his.' I implored him, yes, I condescended to implore him to have mercy. He was deaf to all my entreaties. Then, driven to desperation, I exclaimed, ' You shall have something to answer for. Sooner than be humiliated and hunted down in this way, I'll kill myself !? ' You ?' he replied in a bantering tone, ' you kill yourself ! Nonsense. See here's a charming weapon ; I offer it to you, firmly per-sua-ded that you will not make bad use of it.' 1 took the knife mechanically, but blood rushed to my brain, and the heavy wines I had been drinking deprived me of my reason. Ino longer implored my creditor, I complained of his harshness and severity. 'My harshness ! he exclaimed, 'here, take your bills, I don't want to have anything more to do with you. But I shall have a right to proclaim you on all sides as a thief !" Ito be called a thief ! _ I sprang upon him, and he struck me a blow in the face. Then, mad with rage, I struck him in my turn with the knife he had put into my hands. He uttered a cry, and fell ! I hurled the weapon away from me, and fled in a state of distraction. Yes, all this happened as I have told you. I swear it !"

He stopped to take breath, and then, continuing to pace the room without looking at Eleanor, he went on — "I thought I had only wounded him slightly — I had killed him ! A few days afterwards I was arrested. First of all I wanted to confess everything. No jury would have convicted me of murder. I was an unfortunate, but not a guilty man. I had been the cause of death, but an unwitting one. Suddenly the recollection flashed across my mind of the bills which he had restored to me, which I had not wanted to take, and which he had forcibly thrust into the pocket of my overcoat. They must be there, and somebody must have found them —lf I confessed I was lost !— I should be nothing better than a common assassin — a murderer, for the sake of the money I owed. It was then that I determined to clef end myself, and to devote all my intelligence towards saving my own head and putting justice off the scent.

"My innocence was believed in, my liberty restored to me, and at the very moment when in desperation I should probably have put an end to my existence, I suddenly found myself clinging to life with all my migl^t — for I had Just met you, and I loved you! Speak now," le addedj going close to Eleanor, but without daring to look at her, "speak; you know my crime, will you absolve me from it ?" With her head buried in her hands, she was silent. This silence terrified him. He put his hand on Eleanor's head and tried to make her look at him. As she did so he recoiled with

horror — her face was livid. Two huge tears coursed down her cheeks.

"Oh!" lie exclaimed, "I am, then, more guilty than I thought myself. You will not pardon me !" She rose, as if with difficulty, and said in a voice which sounded hollow and strangely muffled, "I am Maurice Hardcastle's widow !" Brownpath, pale, overwhelmed, and incapable of any definite idea, mechanically made his way out of the drawing-room, where Eleanor had left him alone. He opened the door and went down the staircase, holding on by the "balusters, his legs seeming to give way beneath him. Having gained the street, he supported himself against the walls like a drunken man, and reeled at every step. Those terrible words, "I am Maurice Hardcastle's widow !" were buzzing in his ears, and he saw them before his eyes, written as if in letters of blood. Each letter seemed to him to be of enormous size and to bar his onward path. Suddenly a spare man, insignificant-looking and pale, seized him by the arm and said — Brownpath, I arrest you, in the name of the law!" Brownpath, without moving or making any sign, without even trying to snake off the hold on his arm, looked down on the speaker, recognised him, and replied sadly — "I am in no humour for joking." " I am not joking,*' said the little pale man. " I arrest you for the murder of Maurice Hardcastle." Nothing could astonish Brownpath ; he did not even wince, but merely said — "Who are you then, sir ?" "I am a police-agent, and am called Cooke. ' "Ah ! I understand," said Brownpath. "Why do you accuse me of being the assassin of Maurice Hardcastle ?" "Because you have confessed it." "To whom?" " To his widow." "Ah !" he exclaimed, "she has denounced me already." "Let us go," said Cooke. "Let us go," repeated Brownpath, with an air of resignation. What were the prison and the scaffold to him now ! At this moment a pistol shot, fired from some unknown quarter, was heard. Brownpath was hit and wounded mortally. was carried under a gateway, and when there, he made signs to those around him that he wished to speak. They leaned over him and caught the words — "I want to see somebody again before I die." Two men ini2>rovised a stretcher, laid the wounded man upon it, and Brownpath, after an interval of agony, which was mercifully short, breathed his last at his mistress' door, Avith her name on his lips. One day Burritt threw himself on a warder who was impudent enough to enter his cell alone, stifled his cries by means of a gag, took off his own clothes and put on the warder's uniform, possessed himself of his bunch of keys, and walked quietly out of the main door, and betook himself to Carrotty Sal. Without losing lime by ringing, he burst open the door with a kick, and unceremoniously entered her bedroom, where he found her just gone to bed. " What do you want with me ?" said Sal, half dead already with fright. "You'll soon know," said Burritt. " You want to kill me," she exclaimed. " Of course, I mean to keep my oath and kill I you." "Mercy, mercy !" she wailed, trying to throw her arms around him. j Burritt shook her off', and said — "There is no mercy for you." "But you arc a free man now. We can fly and live together." " No, I wish it no longer. You do not love me." "Oh, yes. I love you." ".Silence ! You lie. "I love you, I tell you. I swear it." ; "A woman does not betray the man she loves, she does not accuse him in a court of law nor give him up to justice. Come, prepare to die." "No — no — mercy !" " If you believe in God, say your prayers." She leaped out of bed, "threw herself at Burritt's feet, kissed his hands, wept and entreated. He was inflexible, and merely said — "Kemember the scene in the prison." The clock struck. He threw the window wide open, and advanced towards her. With one hand he laid hold of both her arms to prevent her from clinging to him, with the other he lifted her from the ground, carried her to the window, and hurled her into space. Then he leaned out, looked at the place on the pavement where she had fallen, got on to the window-sill, and threw himself headlong after her. "When he reached the ground, he Avas still alive, and there the spectators of this terrible scene saw him crawl along on his bloody hands and knees to the corpse. When he breathed his last sigh, he held the girl fast locked in his shattered arms. Eleanor has retired into a convent, and still resides there, remarkable for her zeal, her devotion, and her swept disposition, to which all bear witness. Mary is with her, and aids her in her noble task. Five years have passed away since a certain lunatic breathed his last in the asylum. As a rule, he was quiet and inoffensive, and his madness only showed itself in one form, that of listening unceasingly at doors. He would be seen to glide along the corridors, crouch in a corner near a door, and either look through the key-hole or place his ear against it. In this harmless position he would remain for whole days, and the attendants grew accustomed to leave him alone. There were, however, certain seasons in the year when his insanity assumed a more dangerous character, and then the strait waistcoat hsd to be brought into requisition. But this crisis was always preceded by an extraordinary symptom ; the lunatic would complain that his lips were burning, and would shriek aloud for water to cool them, rubbing his fingers incessantly from one side to the other of his mouth, as if to efface the traces of a kiss. THE END.