But, Dupin, I interrupted him, the windows are on the fourth floor, far above from the ground. How could someone
Yes, that is an interesting question: how did the murderer go from the window down to the ground? When we walked around the house, I noted a lightning rod that went from the top of the building to the ground. It is a way for someone to go up or down the wall, and then to go inside and outside the house. Although that someone must be extremely strong. The only question left who?
I had some vague hunches about where Dupin was leading me but I was unable to see the answer. He continued his discourse:
Now lets think of motive. Do you remember in what condition the room was found? There was the wildest possible disorder. The murderer threw clothes around the room but, it seemed, did not take any of it. One of the witnesses mentioned that the old lady took home a large amount of money from the bank three days before the killing. That money was found, in bags, on the floor. The murderer must be an idiot if he attempted to rob these poor ladies and took nothing from them eventually!
What do we have in the dry rest?[6] The peculiar voice, an unusual agility, a startling absence of motive in a singularly atrocious murder. Let us glance at the butchery itself. A girl is strangled to death by manual strength, and thrust up a chimney, head downward. Ordinary assassins do not do that. Other indications of a great strength the murderer must had have are very thick tresses of grey human hair on the hearth. They were torn out by the roots. The throat of the old lady was not merely cut, but the head absolutely severed from the body: the instrument was a mere razor. Something here does not fit our ideas of human actions, even when we think of men of the most terrible kind. Who would commit the murder in such brutal way without a reason? Who could have such incredible strength?
A madman! I exclaimed, Some raving maniac!
In some ways, he replied, your idea is not irrelevant. But madmen are of some nation. Their cries may be terrible, but they are made of words, and some of the words can be understood. Besides, look at the hair I hold in my hand. I took it from rigidly clutched fingers of Madame LEspanaye. Tell me what you can make of it.
Dupin! I said, completely amazed; this hair is most unusual-this is no human hair.
Before we decide this matter, I want you to look at the little sketch I made. It is a picture of the marks on the daughters neck.
My friend spread out the paper upon the table before us. You see, continued he, there is no slipping apparent. The victim was killed by a firm and fixed hold. Now try to place all your fingers, at the same time, in the respective impressions as you see them.
I tried and failed.
Maybe we are not doing this in the right way? said Dupin. The paper is spread out on the table; but the human throat is cylindrical. Here is a piece of wood as big as a neck. Try to wrap your hand around it.
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 detailed anatomical description of the large fulvous orangutan of the East Indian Islands. Goosebumps ran down my spine. The great size, the strength, the wildness of these animals are well known[7]. Suddenly, all hit me at once: the color of the hair the size of the hand the terrible strength the wildness of the killings a mysterious voice that spoke a language no one could understand
But, Dupin! I said, There were two voices! If one was of an orangutan, the other was unquestionably the voice of a Frenchman.
True; and you will remember that, by the evidence, the voice said My God! in French. I built my hopes of a full solution of the riddle upon these two words.
The witnesses described the way in which these words were said as an expression of horror. This means that a Frenchman knew about these murders. I am sure he did not participate in the bloody killing itself. The orangutan probably run from him. He traced it to the chamber but failed to recapture it. These are my guesses and I have no right to call them more. But if the Frenchman is indeed, as I suppose, innocent, he will come here tonight. Read this. I have put this advertisement in the newspaper.
He handed me a paper, and I read thus:
CAUGHT Early in the morning of the (the morning of the murder): a very large orangutan. The owner, who is known to be a sailor, may have the animal again if he can prove it is his.
How do you know he is a sailor? I asked.
I do not know and Im not sure of it. I found a small piece of ribbon at the foot of the lightning rod. Look at this knot. Only few besides sailors can tie this knot.
But why do you think he would reply to your advertisement?
Because he would want to avoid extra attention for he, which follows from the paper, is known as an owner of the orangutan. He would think: I will answer the advertisement, get the orangutan, and keep it close until its over.
At this moment, we heard a step on the stairs.
Be ready, said Dupin, with your pistols, but neither use them nor show them until at a signal from myself.
Dupin left the front door of the house open. The visitor entered the house and made several steps up the stairs. Then he stopped.
Come in, said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone.
A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently, a tall, stout, and muscular-looking person. He had a huge cudgel with him. He bowed awkwardly, and bade us good evening, in French accents.
Sit down, my friend, said Dupin. I suppose youre here for the orangutan. A very fine animal. How old do you suppose it to be?
I have no way of telling how old it is, but it cant be more than four or five years old. Have you got it here?
Oh no, we could not keep him here. He is at a live. Are you prepared to identify the property?
To be sure I am, sir.
I wish I could keep it.
Of course I will pay you for finding and keeping the animal. Anything within reason.
Well, replied my friend, that is all very fair, to be sure. Let me think! what should I have? Oh! I will tell you. My 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. He locked it and put the key in his pocket. Then he drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it on the table.
The sailors 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. He spoke not a word. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart[8].
My friend, said Dupin, in a kind tone, We mean you no harm whatever. I perfectly well know that you are innocent of the killings in the Rue Morgue. But it is true that you know something about the killer. It is a matter of honor for you to tell all you know.
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 half of it.
The story was this. Lately he and some other sailors made a voyage to the Indian Archipelago. They landed at Borneo[9]. He and his friend went to a forest on an excursion of pleasure. There they captured the orangutan. Soon after his friend died and the animal fell into his own exclusive possession. He took it with him in Paris. The animal caused a lot of trouble but he managed to keep it secretly in his apartments for the time being[10]. His ultimate goal was to sell it.
In the morning of the murder, he found the beast in his own bedroom. A razor, which the sailor left on a table after shaving, was in its hand. The man, for some moments, was at a loss what to do[11]. He stretched his hand to the whip with which he usually quieted the creature. The orangutan saw it and sprang at once through the door of the chamber, down the stairs. It then jumped through a window, unfortunately open, into the street.
The Frenchman followed in despair. It was nearly three oclock in the morning and the streets were still quiet and dark. When they passed down an alley in the rear of the Rue Morgue, the ape noticed a light gleaming from the open window of Madame LEspanayes house. It rushed to the building and went up the metallic pole, and then jumped into the room. All this didnt take a minute.
The sailor, too, went up the metallic pole, but was unable to jump into the room. He saw a following scene.
The women were sitting there, with their backs to the windows. They were busy with some papers. The old lady saw the animal and started screaming. The ape grasped her by the hair. The womans scream and struggle probably scared the ape and made it go wild. With one determined sweep of its muscular arm, it nearly severed her head from her body. The daughter lay prostrate and motionless. The sight of blood inflamed the anger of the ape into phrenzy[12]. It saw the daughter move and, with fire in its eyes, rushed to her. The beast put its powerful fingers around her neck, and pressed them firmly there until she died. It saw the face of sailor in the window and understood that the punishment was near. The beast started jumping all around, breaking everything in the room. Suddenly it stopped and took the body of the daughter and put it up above the fireplace. Then it threw the old woman out the window.
The sailor was full of horror and did not know what to do. He knew he was now powerless against such beast and simply ran away.
Thus, the mystery was solved. We reported everything to the police, which was not happy that some civilians solved the case, not the police. The sailor later captured his animal and wrongly imprisoned Le Don was instantly released.
The tell-tale heart
True! I am always nervous, very dreadfully nervous. But am I a madman? My nervousness sharpened my senses, but not destroyed nor dulled them. It especially sharpened my hearing. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Listen! Listen carefully and I will tell the whole story.
I do not know when the idea first entered my brain; but once it did, it haunted me day and night. There was no reason for what I did. I did not hate the old man; I even loved him. He never hurt me. He never insulted me. I did not need his money. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture[13]. It was pale blue, with a film over it. Whenever the old man looked at me with his vulture eye, my blood ran cold[14]. I decided to kill the old man to finally get rid of this evil eye forever.
Now this is the point. You think I am mad. Madmen cannot plan. But you do not know how wisely and with what caution I went to work! During the whole week before I killed him I was as kind to him as I could. Every night about twelve oclock I gently oh, so gently! opened his door. And when the opening was wide enough I used to put my hand and my head in. Oh, I bet it looked comical! I moved very slowly so that I might not disturb the old mans sleep. It took me an hour to place myself within the opening so far that I could see him on his bed. Ha! Could a madman be so wise? I stood there quietly. In my hand, I had a light covered with a cloth. I carefully lifted the cloth so that a single thin ray fell across the vulture eye. I did this for seven nights, seven long nights, every night at midnight. But I found the eye always closed. Because of that, I could not do the work. For it was not the old man I had the urge[15] to kill but his Evil Eye. And every morning after I spoke to the old man in a hearty tone and asked how was his night. He had no clue[16] that every night I watched him sleeping.
On the eighth night, I was even more than usually careful when I opened the door. The hands of a clock move more quickly than did my hand. Never before that night I felt more powerful. I could hardly hold my feelings of triumph back. The old man was lying on his bed and had no idea I was at his door. I let out a slight chuckle. He suddenly moved. You may think I become afraid but no. His room was completely dark. I knew that he could not see me. I continued to push the door, slowly, softly.
I put my head in. Then I started putting in my hand when suddenly the old man sprang up in bed and cried, Whos there?
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle. Neither did I hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening.
Soon I heard a cry of fear which escaped from the old man. I knew he was filled with horror. I knew what he felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. He probably tried to calm himself down by thinking these strange sounds came from wind or a mouse But it was not. It was Death standing right in front of him.
Slowly, I lifted the cloth so that a single thin ray fell across the vulture eye. And there it was. The Eye was open widely. I saw it with perfect distinctness all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it. I grew furious as I gazed at it.
Did you know people often mistake over-acuteness of the sense for madness? I heard a low dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes if you envelop it in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old mans heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I kept still. I hardly breathed. I held the light motionless. But the sound grew louder. Can you imagine the old mans terror! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! The heart was beating so loudly that I was sure neighbors must hear it. I felt anger. The old mans hour had come![17]With a loud yell, I jumped into the room. He shrieked once once only. In an instant[18], I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. The deed was done[19]. The old man was dead. But I still heard his heart beating. This, however, did not bother me; no one would hear anything through the wall. At length it ceased. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead[20]. His eye would trouble me no more.
If you still think I am mad, you will change your mind when I tell you how wisely I hid the body. First, I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs. I was so careful that not a single drop of blood fell on the floor. Then I took up three boards from the flooring of the room, put the body underneath and replaced the boards. Everything looked the same.
When I finished, it was four oclock in the morning, still dark. I heard someone knocking on the door. I went down to open the door. There were three police officers. One of the neighbors heard the old mans cry and called the police. They came to ask questions and search the house.
I let them in. I was not afraid of anything as I knew I did everything right. I let them search the house. When they were in his room, I brought some chairs and offered them to rest. I placed my own seat on the very spot beneath which lied the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My manner convinced them. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted. But soon I felt myself getting pale. I wanted them to go away. I fancied a ringing in my ears. The ringing became more distinct while the police officers were still chatting. I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling but it did not help.
No doubt[21]I now grew very pale. No matter what I did, the sound increased. How could the officers not hear it?! No! They heard! They knew! They were making a mockery of my horror! I could not tolerate this agony anymore.
Villains! I screamed. I admit the deed! Tear up the floor! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!
Ms.[22] found in a bottle