"Then you would tell the Attorney General a falsehood. I have told you that I did not pluck the flowers in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House, but at a great distance from it, and in a spot difficult to find, and that my handkerchief was by accident where you picked it up. Is it possible that you do not believe me, although I have told you all this distinctly?"
He probably read in my face that I was not convinced of the truth of this statement, for he continued in a sharp, angry tone:
"You doubt, in spite of my words. Perhaps you entertain the possibility of my having some connection with the crime----"
"What folly, Herr Foligno!" I cried, interrupting him. "I mentioned you and your pocket handkerchief only to contradict your assertion that it was my duty to tell of an insignificant experience. If I ought to report having seen Franz Schorn near the Lonely House, I also ought to report the finding of your handkerchief under the same circumstances."
"If you really consider this your duty, I shall not gainsay you," he replied darkly, not lifting his eyes from the ground. "It is no affair of mine. My task is to send this very night my deposition, containing an account of your meeting with Franz Schorn, to the proper authorities either with or against your consent. I may find myself in a very unpleasant position and even imperil my office when I relate that I myself advised you to withhold your report concerning Schorn, but personal considerations must yield to my sense of duty. I had thought, Herr Professor," he continued, in a more friendly tone, finding me still silent, "that you would not willingly thus embarrass me. Believe me, I would not so insist upon your evidence were I not thoroughly and firmly convinced of the young man's guilt. To show you how highly I esteem you, what implicit confidence I place in your honour and silence, I will tell you, although scarcely warranted in so doing, of the results of my laborious investigations during the last few weeks. You yourself will then be convinced of your duty. It is a hard task for me to make these revelations to you, for not only do they militate against Franz Schorn, but against one who has been very dear to my heart, and for whom to-day, in spite of my better judgment, I feel warm affection; but it must be; you shall hear all."
"Proceed; you may rely upon my discretion."
I waited for what he had to say with intense eagerness. For a few moments he sat silent, with downcast looks; then he began, not once looking at me as he spoke:
"It is difficult to indicate the precise moment at which suspicions of Schorn were aroused within me. You yourself know of his bitter enmity towards old Pollenz, whose death he could not but desire, since it alone would bring him the fulfilment of his dearest wish. You know of his being near the Lonely House immediately after the murder. You know also of the wound in his hand, to account for which he told of having grasped a double-edged knife as it fell from where he had left it. His reluctance to show the wound to the doctor, and, more than all else, his sudden accession of wealth after the crime, accuses him loudly. He has made purchases which would have been impossible with his own unassisted means. All these grounds of suspicion the doctor thought to annihilate by his acute reasoning, showing that old Pollenz himself could not possibly have admitted Schorn and that the murderer had evidently entered the house without any violent breaking in of the door. How is this to be accounted for? Unfortunately, the explanation is only too clear. Fräulein Anna Pollenz, when officially examined, as well as in her words to the Captain and to the doctor, portrayed a life in her father's house absolutely opposed to reality. She maintained that her father loved her most tenderly; that he was always kind and gentle to her, and that even her connection with the hated Schorn and her refusal to give me her hand had produced no change in his demeanour toward her. Anna's words were universally believed. Who could doubt who looked into her eyes and acknowledged their spell? To see her is to love her. She wins all hearts at once. Every one believes her; every one trusts her; and nevertheless every word that she spoke is false. For years the Lonely House has witnessed terrible scenes between father and daughter. The old man abused the lovely child outrageously because she would not obey him. Unfortunately I myself was often the cause of this abuse, although I declared continually to old Pollenz that I never would claim Anna's hand unless she bestowed it upon me voluntarily; unless I succeeded in winning the young girl's love. The old fellow was a rough, heartless, violent man; a coward to those stronger than himself, brutal to those who were weaker. He locked his daughter up; he half starved her; he beat her so that she escaped from him bleeding. For years he never spoke a kind word to her. He had unbounded confidence in me; he even angrily complained to me of her disobedience. I myself have witnessed frightful scenes, and on several occasions prevented him with all my physical strength from maltreating the beautiful, unfortunate child in my presence."
"Frightful!" I exclaimed. The dreadful picture which the narrator unfolded before me filled me with horror.
"Beside myself, there is one other human being who is aware of the family life in the Lonely House. Old Johanna was a witness of the maltreatment which the unhappy girl suffered daily in our presence; in the presence of others the old man assumed a kind, mild demeanour toward his child; old Johanna suffered almost as much as Anna from the brutality of her master. She would long ago have left him if she had not been detained by tender affection for her mistress. After what you have just heard you may judge with what amazement I was filled upon learning after the death of old Pollenz that Anna had described her relations with her father as happy, peaceful, and loving, and that old Johanna in the final examination, had confirmed all that Anna said. I pondered long to discover what grounds Anna could have for such a false representation of the actual circumstances and why she should suddenly develop such inconceivable hatred for me, who had so often protected her from ill treatment. When at last I suspected the true cause I found it difficult of belief. I alone can expose the tissue of lies which she has woven around herself. I alone cannot be won over to testify to her truth, as she has won over old Johanna, who would perjure herself willingly for her darling, and Anna needs such falsehoods. It is almost impossible to believe that the daughter, driven to madness and despair by daily ill treatment, herself opened the locked doors for her lover. Spare me further words, Herr Professor. My reason becomes confused when I reflect on a deed so horrible. Ever since this solution became clear to me, sleep is banished. I toss restlessly throughout the night. My thoughts dwell perpetually in the Lonely House. At times I have feared that I should become insane. The struggle raging within me during these last few days is indescribable. I loved Anna with all my heart. I love her still, and, although it is madness, I shall love her to my last breath. Neither her crime nor the hatred which she displays towards me can kill this insane love within me, and fate has ordained that I should be the inexorable judge, the dread accuser of her lover, in ruining whom I ruin her also; but I must do my duty, let my heart bleed as it may."