defy comprehension. Nevertheless, from reading it myself, I venture to
predict that if an excavation is made in the main basement, somewhere in
the vicinity of the foundation of the great chimney, a collection of
bones will be found which should very closely resemble those which James
Crayden once clothed in mortal flesh.

--_Statement of Rudolph Heckler._


Here follows the excerpts from the manuscript, made and arranged by
Rudolph Heckler:


I never killed my brother. Let this be my first word and my last. Why
should I kill him? We lived together in unbroken harmony for twenty
years. We were old men, and the fires and tempers of youth had long
since burned out. We never disagreed even over the most trivial things.
Never was there such amity as ours. We were scholars. We cared nothing
for the outside world. Our companionship and our books were
all-satisfying. Never were there such talks as we held. Many a night we
have sat up till two and three in the morning, conversing, weighing
opinions and judgments, referring to authorities--in short, we lived at
high and friendly intellectual altitudes.

* * * * *

He disappeared. I suffered a great shock. Why should he have
disappeared? Where could he have gone? It was very strange. I was
stunned. They say I was very sick for weeks. It was brain fever. This
was caused by his inexplicable disappearance. It was at the beginning of