"'I want you to tell me all she tells you,' says Caspar; 'and I will wait here till you come back from the church, that I may hear it. Will you do so?'
"'Certainly not,' replies the Père Chessez. 'You must surely know, Caspar, that we priests are forbidden to reveal the secrets of the confessional.'
"'That is nothing to me,' says Caspar, with an oath. 'I am resolved to know whether my wife is guilty or innocent; and know it I will, by fair means or foul.'
"'You shall never know it from me, Caspar,' says the Père Chessez, very quietly.
"'Then, by Heavens!' says Caspar, 'I'll learn it for myself.' And with that he pulls out a heavy horse-pistol from his pocket, and with the butt-end of it deals the Père Chessez a tremendous blow upon the head, and then another, and another, till the poor young man lay senseless at his feet. Then Caspar, thinking he had quite killed him, dressed himself in the priest's own soutane and hat; locked the door; put the key in his pocket; and stealing round the back way into the church, shut himself up in the Confessional."
"Then the priest died!" I exclaimed, remembering the epitaph upon the tablet.
"Ay, mein Herr—the Père Chessez died; but not before he had told the story of his assassination, and identified his murderer."
"And Caspar Rufenacht, I hope, was hanged?"
"Wait a bit, mein Herr, we have not come to that yet. We left Caspar in the confessional, waiting for his wife."
"And she came?"