Story teller (1)/The Murder Discovered

THE MURDER DISCOVERED

I accompanied the gentleman into tho gardon and was shown the place where her own father found his murdered daughter. The grass was red with blood, and the marks of feet were quite visible on tho ground, which happened to be soft and wet. In endeavouring to trace the footsteps, wo observed that they led over some ground which had been newly dug with the spade, and that they had made a remarkably distinct impression on the loose soil. On examining that impression we saw that there was something particular in the form of the shoe. It was uncommonly broad and large, and round-toed, and, from its shape, gave reason to suspect that its wearer was what is called flat-soled. It had also been lately pieced at the heel and toe, and armed with broad-headed tacks, the points of which were distinctly marked. This was any important discovery, and Mr Johnson, who was accustomed to use his pencil, set himself, with the assistance of the surgeon, to tako a correct measurement and drawing of it on paper. In thơ meantime, Mr Thomson and I continued the search, and having traced the footsteps to the garden wall, tho good minister, who happened to be before me, uttered an exclamation of horror, and directed my attention to a stone on the top of the wall which was stained with blood. On looking moro minutely, we saw tho marks of bloody fingers on the stones and concluded that the murderer had made his retreat out of the garden at this place. A plowed field on the other sido of the wall favoured our further search, and we traeked the villian to a small piece of water where he bad probably washed his hands, and through which he appeared to have waded, as the prints of feet were seen on the opposite bank. I threw off my shoes and stoekings, and followed the course wo supposed the murderer had taken as accurately as I could; but as the ground on the other side was covered with wood, I could trace him no farther. On my return, I observed something bright at the bottom of the water, which I took up, and found to be a large clasped knife, with the letters R. S. scratched rudely on the handle. I shuddered to think that with this very instrument the fatal deed was probably committed, and we were confirmed in this opinion by discovering marks of blood on the handle, which the water had not wholly washed away.

When the ceremony of interment was over, and before any person began to retire, Mr Thomson, standing on a grave-stone, informed the company, that it was the wish of the sheriff that no person should be permitted to leave the church-yard till an examination had taken place, which might serve to throw some light on this dark and horrid business. “Huzza!” cried Robert Stewart; “that's right! I'll guard the yett, and let none out.” “You are saved that trouble, young man,” replied Mr Thomson, “for there are constables already posted at the gate, and none need attempt to escape.” “I must request every person,” continued he, “to sit down on the grass in the vacant space at the north side of the church, arranged as nearly in rows as possible. That you may not think this request unnecessary, I will explain to you the reason of it. The murderer, whoever he was, left the impression of his shoe on some new dug ground near the spot where the crime was committed. An accurate drawing of the form and dimensions of that impression has been taken by my friend Mr Johnson, and is now in my hand. Our intention is to examine the feet of all who are present and compare their shoes with this draught, in hopes that this measure may tend to detect the guilty person.” My eyes were steadily fixed on Robert Stewart during this speech, and I observed his face turn red and pale by turns. The marks of guilt were visible, I thought, on his countenance; but when Mr Thomson ceased speaking, he had recovered himself sufficiently to exclaim, “What good ’ill that do? D’ye think the man that killed the lass wad hae the face to come here? or, if he was here, how could you find him out by the sted o’ his foot? A hunder folk may ha’e shoon o’ the same size, and if made by ae shoemaker, they may be a’ the same shape too. It may mak innocent folk suspected, and will do mair ill than good; sae for my part I winna consent till’t. Come, let us be off lads.” As he spake, he pulled some of his companions by the arm, and turned towards the gate, with the intention of making his escape. “The first man that leaves the church-yard before he is examined,” cried Mr Johnson from among the crowd, will bo taken up as a suspected person, and committed to jail. I have the authority of the sheriff for saying so.” A murmur of approbation succeeded his speech, and Stewart turned back intimidated, and seated himself on a grave-stone at a little distance, folding his arms across his breast, and kicking his heels against one of the feet of the stone, in order to appear very much at his ease. As soon as silence was obtained, Mr Thomson, in a few simple words, refuted Stewart’s objections, and at the same time held up to public view Mr Johnson’s drawing of the footstep, to convince the people that there was something so remarkably peculiar in its shape, there could be little doubt of finding out the person to whom it belonged, by the means proposed. Every one now seemed eager to have his shoes examined, and hastened to seat himself on the grass. Two shoemakers were employed to take the measurement, and Mr Johnson accompanied them with the drawing in his hand. Stewart had placed himself in the middle of the crowd, and I saw him make one or two unsuccessful attempts to shift his seat, so as to escape examination. When it last his turn came, his colour suddenly changed to a deadly pale, and with a horrid groan, he fell senseless on the ground. He was restored by the application of some water, which was quickly procured, and looking wildly round him, he exclaimed, “You cannot say that I did it! it was dark—who saw me?” “God Almighty saw you, unhappy young man!” said Mr Johnson, in a tone which thrilled through my heart; for he had now taken the dimensions of Stewart's shoe, and found it correspond in every particular to the copy he had drawn. The murderer, for I had now no doubt that this was he, having recovered his strength, started up on his feet, and drawing a sharp-pointed knife from his pocket, threatened to stab to the heart the man that laid hands on him. He then made a desperate spring, and before any person had sufficient presence of mind to prevent him, reached the church-yard wall, which he cleared without difficulty, but losing his balance when he reached the other side, he stumbled forward, and fell on the point of his knife. Ho was now overtaken and secured, and as he was losing much blood, he was conveyed to the manse, which happened to be the nearest house; the surgeon, who was present, attended him for the purpose of dressing his wound. The knife had entered the bowels, and made a dangerous wound, which the surgeon immediately pronounced likely to prove fatal. Tho unfortunate wretch overheard the opinion of the surgeon, and cried out with a savage joy, which filled every person present with horror, “Then I’ll disappoint the law yet. If I could na mak my escape in ae way, I’ll do it in another. Sleep, sleep they say, it’s a sleep.” “Alas! young man,” said Mr Thomson, shuddering as he spake, “in that sleep there aro awful dreams to the wicked—dreams do I say? they are horrible realities. God grant that I may not find—” “It's a lie!” interrupted he with a dreadful oath, “I'll no beliove it—sae yo needna preach to me.” Mr Thomson, finding ho could do no good by continuing tho conversation, left the room; and it was not long after this he learned that the wretched murderer died, still hardened and impenitent.