The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 5 Read online

  The magistrate now considered it his duty to send a couple of constablesto search the chamber of the accused in the house of his uncle. Fromthis search they almost immediately returned with the well-knownsteel-bound, russet leather pocket-book which the old gentleman had beenin the habit of carrying for years. Its valuable contents, however, hadbeen abstracted, and the magistrate in vain endeavored to extort fromthe prisoner the use which had been made of them, or the place of theirconcealment. Indeed, he obstinately denied all knowledge of the matter.The constables, also, discovered, between the bed and sacking of theunhappy man, a shirt and neck-handkerchief both marked with the initialsof his name, and both hideously besmeared with the blood of the victim.

  At this juncture, it was announced that the horse of the murdered manhad just expired in the stable from the effects of the wound he hadreceived, and it was proposed by Mr. Goodfellow that a post mortemexamination of the beast should be immediately made, with the view, ifpossible, of discovering the ball. This was accordingly done; and, asif to demonstrate beyond a question the guilt of the accused, Mr.Goodfellow, after considerable searching in the cavity of the chest wasenabled to detect and to pull forth a bullet of very extraordinary size,which, upon trial, was found to be exactly adapted to the bore of Mr.Pennifeather's rifle, while it was far too large for that of any otherperson in the borough or its vicinity. To render the matter even sureryet, however, this bullet was discovered to have a flaw or seam at rightangles to the usual suture, and upon examination, this seam correspondedprecisely with an accidental ridge or elevation in a pair of mouldsacknowledged by the accused himself to be his own property. Upon findingof this bullet, the examining magistrate refused to listen toany farther testimony, and immediately committed the prisoner fortrial-declining resolutely to take any bail in the case, althoughagainst this severity Mr. Goodfellow very warmly remonstrated, andoffered to become surety in whatever amount might be required. Thisgenerosity on the part of "Old Charley" was only in accordance with thewhole tenour of his amiable and chivalrous conduct during the entireperiod of his sojourn in the borough of Rattle. In the present instancethe worthy man was so entirely carried away by the excessive warmth ofhis sympathy, that he seemed to have quite forgotten, when he offered togo bail for his young friend, that he himself (Mr. Goodfellow) did notpossess a single dollar's worth of property upon the face of the earth.

  The result of the committal may be readily foreseen. Mr. Pennifeather,amid the loud execrations of all Rattleborough, was brought to trial atthe next criminal sessions, when the chain of circumstantial evidence(strengthened as it was by some additional damning facts, which Mr.Goodfellow's sensitive conscientiousness forbade him to withhold fromthe court) was considered so unbroken and so thoroughly conclusive, thatthe jury, without leaving their seats, returned an immediate verdictof "Guilty of murder in the first degree." Soon afterward the unhappywretch received sentence of death, and was remanded to the county jailto await the inexorable vengeance of the law.

  In the meantime, the noble behavior of "Old Charley Goodfellow," haddoubly endeared him to the honest citizens of the borough. He becameten times a greater favorite than ever, and, as a natural result of thehospitality with which he was treated, he relaxed, as it were, perforce,the extremely parsimonious habits which his poverty had hithertoimpelled him to observe, and very frequently had little reunions at hisown house, when wit and jollity reigned supreme-dampened a little, ofcourse, by the occasional remembrance of the untoward and melancholyfate which impended over the nephew of the late lamented bosom friend ofthe generous host.

  One fine day, this magnanimous old gentleman was agreeably surprised atthe receipt of the following letter:-

  Charles Goodfellow, Esq., Rattleborough From H.F.B. & Co. Chat. Mar. A--No. 1.--6 doz. bottles (1/2 Gross)

  "Charles Goodfellow, Esquire.

  "Dear Sir--In conformity with an order transmitted to our firm about two months since, by our esteemed correspondent, Mr. Barnabus Shuttleworthy, we have the honor of forwarding this morning, to your address, a double box of Chateau-Margaux of the antelope brand, violet seal. Box numbered and marked as per margin.

  "We remain, sir, "Your most ob'nt ser'ts, "HOGGS, FROGS, BOGS, & CO.

  "City of--, June 21, 18--.

  "P.S.--The box will reach you by wagon, on the day after your receipt of this letter. Our respects to Mr. Shuttleworthy.

  "H., F., B., & CO."

  The fact is, that Mr. Goodfellow had, since the death of Mr.Shuttleworthy, given over all expectation of ever receiving the promisedChateau-Margaux; and he, therefore, looked upon it now as a sortof especial dispensation of Providence in his behalf. He was highlydelighted, of course, and in the exuberance of his joy invited a largeparty of friends to a petit souper on the morrow, for the purpose ofbroaching the good old Mr. Shuttleworthy's present. Not that he saidany thing about "the good old Mr. Shuttleworthy" when he issued theinvitations. The fact is, he thought much and concluded to say nothingat all. He did not mention to any one--if I remember aright--that he hadreceived a present of Chateau-Margaux. He merely asked his friends tocome and help him drink some, of a remarkable fine quality and richflavour, that he had ordered up from the city a couple of months ago,and of which he would be in the receipt upon the morrow. I have oftenpuzzled myself to imagine why it was that "Old Charley" came to theconclusion to say nothing about having received the wine from hisold friend, but I could never precisely understand his reason for thesilence, although he had some excellent and very magnanimous reason, nodoubt.

  The morrow at length arrived, and with it a very large and highlyrespectable company at Mr. Goodfellow's house. Indeed, half the boroughwas there,--I myself among the number,--but, much to the vexation of thehost, the Chateau-Margaux did not arrive until a late hour, and whenthe sumptuous supper supplied by "Old Charley" had been done very amplejustice by the guests. It came at length, however,--a monstrously bigbox of it there was, too--and as the whole party were in excessivelygood humor, it was decided, nem. con., that it should be lifted upon thetable and its contents disembowelled forthwith.

  No sooner said than done. I lent a helping hand; and, in a trice we hadthe box upon the table, in the midst of all the bottles and glasses, nota few of which were demolished in the scuffle. "Old Charley," who waspretty much intoxicated, and excessively red in the face, now took aseat, with an air of mock dignity, at the head of the board, and thumpedfuriously upon it with a decanter, calling upon the company to keeporder "during the ceremony of disinterring the treasure."

  After some vociferation, quiet was at length fully restored, and, asvery often happens in similar cases, a profound and remarkable silenceensued. Being then requested to force open the lid, I complied, ofcourse, "with an infinite deal of pleasure." I inserted a chisel, andgiving it a few slight taps with a hammer, the top of the box flewsuddenly off, and at the same instant, there sprang up into a sittingposition, directly facing the host, the bruised, bloody, and nearlyputrid corpse of the murdered Mr. Shuttleworthy himself. It gazed for afew seconds, fixedly and sorrowfully, with its decaying and lack-lustreeyes, full into the countenance of Mr. Goodfellow; uttered slowly,but clearly and impressively, the words--"Thou art the man!" and then,falling over the side of the chest as if thoroughly satisfied, stretchedout its limbs quiveringly upon the table.

  The scene that ensued is altogether beyond description. The rush for thedoors and windows was terrific, and many of the most robust men in theroom fainted outright through sheer horror. But after the first wild,shrieking burst of affright, all eyes were directed to Mr. Goodfellow.If I live a thousand years, I can never forget the more than mortalagony which was depicted in that ghastly face of his, so lately rubicundwith triumph and wine. For several minutes he sat rigidly as a statueof marble; his eyes seeming, in the intense vacancy of their gaze, tobe turned inward and absorbed in the contemplation of his own miserable,murderous soul. At length their expression appeared to flash suddenlyout into
the external world, when, with a quick leap, he sprang from hischair, and falling heavily with his head and shoulders upon the table,and in contact with the corpse, poured out rapidly and vehemently adetailed confession of the hideous crime for which Mr. Pennifeather wasthen imprisoned and doomed to die.

  What he recounted was in substance this:--He followed his victim to thevicinity of the pool; there shot his horse with a pistol; despatchedits rider with the butt end; possessed himself of the pocket-book, and,supposing the horse dead, dragged it with great labour to thebrambles by the pond. Upon his own beast he slung the corpse of Mr.Shuttleworthy, and thus bore it to a secure place of concealment a longdistance off through the woods.

  The waistcoat, the knife, the pocket-book, and bullet, had been placedby himself where found, with the view of avenging himself upon Mr.Pennifeather. He had also contrived the discovery of the stainedhandkerchief and shirt.

  Towards the end of the blood-churning recital the words of the guiltywretch faltered and grew hollow. When the record was finally exhausted,he arose, staggered backward from the table, and fell-dead.

  *****

  The means by which this happily-timed confession was extorted, althoughefficient, were simple indeed. Mr. Goodfellow's excess of frankness haddisgusted me, and excited my suspicions from the first. I was presentwhen Mr. Pennifeather had struck him, and the fiendish expression whichthen arose upon his countenance, although momentary, assured me that histhreat of vengeance would, if possible, be rigidly fulfilled. I was thusprepared to view the manoeuvering of "Old Charley" in a very differentlight from that in which it was regarded by the good citizens ofRattleborough. I saw at once that all the criminating discoveries arose,either directly or indirectly, from himself. But the fact which clearlyopened my eyes to the true state of the case, was the affair ofthe bullet, found by Mr. G. in the carcass of the horse. I had notforgotten, although the Rattleburghers had, that there was a hole wherethe ball had entered the horse, and another where it went out. If itwere found in the animal then, after having made its exit, I saw clearlythat it must have been deposited by the person who found it. The bloodyshirt and handkerchief confirmed the idea suggested by the bullet; forthe blood on examination proved to be capital claret, and no more.When I came to think of these things, and also of the late increase ofliberality and expenditure on the part of Mr. Goodfellow, I entertaineda suspicion which was none the less strong because I kept it altogetherto myself.

  In the meantime, I instituted a rigorous private search for the corpseof Mr. Shuttleworthy, and, for good reasons, searched in quarters asdivergent as possible from those to which Mr. Goodfellow conducted hisparty. The result was that, after some days, I came across an old drywell, the mouth of which was nearly hidden by brambles; and here, at thebottom, I discovered what I sought.

  Now it so happened that I had overheard the colloquy between the twocronies, when Mr. Goodfellow had contrived to cajole his host into thepromise of a box of Chateaux-Margaux. Upon this hint I acted. I procureda stiff piece of whalebone, thrust it down the throat of the corpse,and deposited the latter in an old wine box-taking care so to doublethe body up as to double the whalebone with it. In this manner I hadto press forcibly upon the lid to keep it down while I secured it withnails; and I anticipated, of course, that as soon as these latter wereremoved, the top would fly off and the body up.

  Having thus arranged the box, I marked, numbered, and addressed itas already told; and then writing a letter in the name of the winemerchants with whom Mr. Shuttleworthy dealt, I gave instructions to myservant to wheel the box to Mr. Goodfellow's door, in a barrow, at agiven signal from myself. For the words which I intended the corpse tospeak, I confidently depended upon my ventriloquial abilities; for theireffect, I counted upon the conscience of the murderous wretch.

  I believe there is nothing more to be explained. Mr. Pennifeather wasreleased upon the spot, inherited the fortune of his uncle, profited bythe lessons of experience, turned over a new leaf, and led happily everafterward a new life.

  WHY THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN WEARS HIS HAND IN A SLING

  IT'S on my visiting cards sure enough (and it's them that's all o'pink satin paper) that inny gintleman that plases may behould theintheristhin words, "Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, 39 SouthamptonRow, Russell Square, Parrish o' Bloomsbury." And shud ye be wantin' todiskiver who is the pink of purliteness quite, and the laider of the hottun in the houl city o' Lonon--why it's jist mesilf. And fait that sameis no wonder at all at all (so be plased to stop curlin your nose), forevery inch o' the six wakes that I've been a gintleman, and left affwid the bogthrothing to take up wid the Barronissy, it's Pathrick that'sbeen living like a houly imperor, and gitting the iddication and thegraces. Och! and wouldn't it be a blessed thing for your spirrits if yecud lay your two peepers jist, upon Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt,when he is all riddy drissed for the hopperer, or stipping into theBrisky for the drive into the Hyde Park. But it's the illigant bigfiggur that I ave, for the rason o' which all the ladies fall in lovewid me. Isn't it my own swate silf now that'll missure the six fut, andthe three inches more nor that, in me stockins, and that am excadinglywill proportioned all over to match? And it is ralelly more than threefut and a bit that there is, inny how, of the little ould furrenerFrinchman that lives jist over the way, and that's a oggling anda goggling the houl day, (and bad luck to him,) at the purty widdyMisthress Tracle that's my own nixt-door neighbor, (God bliss her!)and a most particuller frind and acquaintance? You percave the littlespalpeen is summat down in the mouth, and wears his lift hand in asling, and it's for that same thing, by yur lave, that I'm going to giveyou the good rason.

  The truth of the houl matter is jist simple enough; for the very firstday that I com'd from Connaught, and showd my swate little silf in thestrait to the widdy, who was looking through the windy, it was agone case althegither with the heart o' the purty Misthress Tracle.I percaved it, ye see, all at once, and no mistake, and that's God'struth. First of all it was up wid the windy in a jiffy, and thin shethrew open her two peepers to the itmost, and thin it was a little gouldspy-glass that she clapped tight to one o' them and divil may burn meif it didn't spake to me as plain as a peeper cud spake, and says it,through the spy-glass: "Och! the tip o' the mornin' to ye, Sir PathrickO'Grandison, Barronitt, mavourneen; and it's a nate gintleman that yeare, sure enough, and it's mesilf and me forten jist that'll be at yursarvice, dear, inny time o' day at all at all for the asking." And it'snot mesilf ye wud have to be bate in the purliteness; so I made hera bow that wud ha' broken yur heart altegither to behould, and thin Ipulled aff me hat with a flourish, and thin I winked at her hard widboth eyes, as much as to say, "True for you, yer a swate little crature,Mrs. Tracle, me darlint, and I wish I may be drownthed dead in a bog,if it's not mesilf, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, that'll make ahoul bushel o' love to yur leddyship, in the twinkling o' the eye of aLondonderry purraty."

  And it was the nixt mornin', sure, jist as I was making up me mindwhither it wouldn't be the purlite thing to sind a bit o' writin' to thewiddy by way of a love-litter, when up com'd the delivery servant widan illigant card, and he tould me that the name on it (for I niver couldrade the copperplate printin on account of being lift handed) was allabout Mounseer, the Count, A Goose, Look--aisy, Maiter-di-dauns, andthat the houl of the divilish lingo was the spalpeeny long name of thelittle ould furrener Frinchman as lived over the way.

  And jist wid that in cum'd the little willian himself, and then he mademe a broth of a bow, and thin he said he had ounly taken the libertyof doing me the honor of the giving me a call, and thin he went on topalaver at a great rate, and divil the bit did I comprehind what he wudbe afther the tilling me at all at all, excipting and saving that hesaid "pully wou, woolly wou," and tould me, among a bushel o' lies, badluck to him, that he was mad for the love o' my widdy Misthress Tracle,and that my widdy Mrs. Tracle had a puncheon for him.

  At the hearin' of this, ye may swear, though, I was as mad as agrassho
pper, but I remimbered that I was Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,Barronitt, and that it wasn't althegither gentaal to lit the anger gitthe upper hand o' the purliteness, so I made light o' the matter andkipt dark, and got quite sociable wid the little chap, and afther awhile what did he do but ask me to go wid him to the widdy's, saying hewud give me the feshionable inthroduction to her leddyship.

  "Is it there ye are?" said I thin to mesilf, "and it's thrue for you,Pathrick, that ye're the fortunittest mortal in life. We'll soon seenow whither it's your swate silf, or whither it's little MounseerMaiter-di-dauns, that Misthress Tracle is head and ears in the lovewid."

  Wid that we wint aff to the widdy's, next door, and ye may well say itwas an illigant place; so it was. There was a carpet all over the floor,and in one corner there was a forty-pinny and a Jew's harp and the divilknows what ilse, and in another corner was a sofy, the beautifullestthing in all natur, and sitting on the sofy, sure enough, there was theswate little angel, Misthress Tracle.