"First they asked me, 'Did you leave the inn during the night?' I
said, 'Yes.' 'How?' I answered, 'By the window.' 'Then you must have
taken great precautions; the innkeeper heard no noise.' I was
stupefied. The sailors said they saw me walking, first to Andernach,
then to the forest. I made many trips, they said, no doubt to bury the
gold and diamonds. The valise had not been found. My remorse still
held me dumb. When I wanted to speak, a pitiless voice cried out to
me, _'You meant to commit that crime!'_ All was against me, even myself.
They asked me about my comrade, and I completely exonerated him. Then
they said to me: 'The crime must lie between you, your comrade, the
innkeeper, and his wife. This morning all the windows and doors were
found securely fastened.' At those words," continued the poor fellow,
"I had neither voice, nor strength, nor soul to answer. More sure of
my comrade than I could be of myself, I could not accuse him. I saw
that we were both thought equally guilty of the murder, and that I was
considered the most clumsy. I tried to explain the crime by
somnambulism, and so protect my friend; but there I rambled and
contradicted myself. No, I am lost. I read my condemnation in the eyes
of my judges. They smiled incredulously. All is over. No more
uncertainty. To-morrow I shall be shot. I am not thinking of myself,"
he went on after a pause, "but of my poor mother." Then he stopped,
looked up to heaven, and shed no tears; his eyes were dry and strongly
convulsed. "Frederic--"

["Ah! true," cried Monsieur Hermann, with an air of triumph. "Yes, the
other's name was Frederic, Frederic! I remember now!"

My neighbor touched my foot, and made me a sign to look at Monsieur
Taillefer. The former purveyor had negligently dropped his hand over