THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE THE mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in themselves, but little

susceptible of analysis. We appreciate them only in their effects. We know of them, among other things, that they are always to their possessor, when inordinately possessed, a source of the liveliest enjoyment. As the strong man exults in his physical ability, delighting in such exercises as call his muscles into action, so glories the analyst in that moral activity which disentangles. He derives pleasure from even the most trivial occupations bringing his talents into play. He is fond of enigmas, of conundrums, of hieroglyphics; exhibiting in his solutions of each a degree of acumen which appears to the ordinary apprehension preternatural. His results, brought about by the very soul and essence of method, have, in truth, the whole air of intuition. The faculty of re-solution is possibly much invigorated by mathematical study, and especially by that highest branch of it which, unjustly, and merely on account of its retrograde operations, has been called, as if par excellence, analysis. Yet to calculate is not in itself to analyze. A chess-player, for example, does the one without effort at the other. It follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon mental character, is greatly misunderstood. I am not now writing a treatise, but simply prefacing a somewhat peculiar narrative by observations very much at random; I will, therefore, take occasion to assert that the higher powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by all the elaborate frivolity of chess. In this latter, where the pieces have different and bizarre motions, with various and variable values, what is only complex is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound. The attention is here called powerfully into play. If it flag for an instant, an oversight is committed, resulting in injury or defeat. The possible moves being not only manifold but involute, the chances of such oversights are multiplied; and in nine cases out of ten it is the more concentrative rather than the more acute player who conquers. In draughts, on the contrary, where the moves are unique and have but little variation, the probabilities of inadvertence are diminished, and the mere attention being left comparatively what advantages are obtained by either party are obtained by superior acumen. To be less abstract --Let us suppose a game of draughts where the pieces are reduced to four kings, and where, of course, no oversight is to be expected. It is obvious that here the victory can be decided (the players being at all equal) only by some recherche movement, the result of some strong exertion of the intellect. Deprived of ordinary resources, the analyst throws himself into the spirit of his opponent, identifies himself therewith, and not unfrequently sees thus, at a glance, the sole methods (sometimes indeed absurdly simple ones) by which he may seduce into error or hurry into miscalculation. Whist has long been noted for its influence upon what is termed the calculating power; and men of the highest order of intellect have been known to take an apparently unaccountable delight in it, while eschewing chess as frivolous. Beyond doubt there is nothing of a similar nature so greatly tasking the faculty of analysis. The best chess-player in Christendom may be little more than the best player of chess; but proficiency in whist implies capacity for success in all these more important undertakings where mind struggles with mind. When I say proficiency, I mean that perfection in the game which includes a comprehension of all

the sources whence legitimate advantage may be derived. These are not only manifold but multiform, and lie frequently among recesses of thought altogether inaccessible to the ordinary understanding. To observe attentively is to remember distinctly; and, so far, the concentrative chess-player will do very well at whist; while the rules of Hoyle (themselves based upon the mere mechanism of the game) are sufficiently and generally comprehensible. Thus to have a retentive memory, and to proceed by "the book," are points commonly regarded as the sum total of good playing. But it is in matters beyond the limits of mere rule that the skill of the analyst is evinced. He makes, in silence, a host of observations and inferences. So, perhaps, do his companions; and the difference in the extent of the information obtained, lies not so much in the validity of the inference as in the quality of the observation. The necessary knowledge is that of what to observe. Our player confines himself not at all; nor, because the game is the object, does he reject deductions from things external to the game. He examines the countenance of his partner, comparing it carefully with that of each of his opponents. He considers the mode of assorting the cards in each hand; often counting trump by trump, and honor by honor, through the glances bestowed by their holders upon each. He notes every variation of face as the play progresses, gathering a fund of thought from the differences in the expression of certainty, of surprise, of triumph, or chagrin. From the manner of gathering up a trick he judges whether the person taking it can make another in the suit. He recognizes what is played through feint, by the air with which it is thrown upon the table. A casual or inadvertent word; the accidental dropping or turning of a card, with the accompanying anxiety or carelessness in regard to its concealment; the counting of the tricks, with the order of their arrangement; embarrassment, hesitation, eagerness or trepidation --all afford, to his apparently intuitive perception, indications of the true state of affairs. The first two or three rounds having been played, he is in full possession of the contents of each hand, and thenceforward puts down his cards with as absolute a precision of purpose as if the rest of the party had turned outward the faces of their own. The analytical power should not be confounded with simple ingenuity; for while the analyst is necessarily ingenious, the ingenious man often remarkably incapable of analysis. The constructive or combining power, by which ingenuity is usually manifested, and which the phrenologists (I believe erroneously) have assigned a separate organ, supposing it a primitive faculty, has been so frequently seen in those whose intellect bordered otherwise upon idiocy, as to have attracted general observation among writers on morals. Between ingenuity and the analytic ability there exists a difference far greater, indeed, than that between the fancy and the imagination, but of a character very strictly analogous. It will found, in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the truly imaginative never otherwise than analytic. The narrative which follows will appear to the reader somewhat in the light of a commentary upon the propositions just advanced. Residing in Paris during the spring and part of the summer of 18--, I there became acquainted with a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This young gentleman was of an excellent -indeed of an illustrious family, but, by a variety of untoward events, had been reduced to such poverty that the energy of his character succumbed beneath it, and he ceased to bestir

himself in the world, or to care for the retrieval of his fortunes. By courtesy of his creditors, there still remained in his possession a small remnant of his patrimony; and, upon the income arising from this, he managed, by means of a rigorous economy, to procure the necessaries of life, without troubling himself about its superfluities. Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries, and in Paris these are easily obtained. Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the Rue Montmartre, where the accident of our both being in search of the same very rare and very remarkable volume, brought us into closer communion. We saw each other again and again. I was deeply interested in the little family history which he detailed to me with all that candor which a Frenchman indulges whenever mere self is the theme. I was astonished, too, at the vast extent of his reading; and, above all, I felt my soul enkindled within me by the wild fervor, and the vivid freshness of his imagination. Seeking in Paris the objects I then sought, I felt that the society of such a man would be to me a treasure beyond price; and this feeling I frankly confided to him. It was at length arranged that we should live together during my stay in the city; and as my worldly circumstances were somewhat less embarrassed than his own, I was permitted to be at the expense of renting, and furnishing in a style which suited the rather fantastic gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and grotesque mansion, long deserted through superstitions into which we did not inquire, and tottering to its fall in a retired and desolate portion of the Faubourg St. Germain. Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been regarded as madmen --although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. We admitted no visitors. Indeed the locality of our retirement had been carefully kept a secret from my own former associates; and it had been many years since Dupin had ceased to know or be known in Paris. We existed within ourselves alone. It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what else shall I call it?) to be enamored of the Night for her own sake; and into this bizarrerie, as into all his others, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wild whims with a perfect abandon. The sable divinity would not herself dwell with us always; but we could counterfeit her presence. At the first dawn of the morning we closed all the massy shutters of our old building; lighted a couple of tapers which, strongly perfumed, threw out only the ghastliest and feeblest of rays. By the aid of these we then busied our souls in dreams --reading, writing, or conversing, until warned by the clock of the advent of the true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into the streets, arm and arm, continuing the topics of the day, or roaming far and wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of the populous city, that infinity of mental excitement which quiet observation can afford. At such times I could not help remarking and admiring (although from his rich ideality I had been prepared to expect it) a peculiar analytic ability in Dupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in its exercise --if not exactly in its display --and did not hesitate to confess the pleasure thus derived. He boasted to me, with a low chuckling laugh, that most men, in respect to himself, wore windows in their bosoms, and was wont to follow up such assertions by direct and very startling proofs of his intimate knowledge of my own. His manner at these moments was frigid and abstract; his eyes were vacant in expression; while

his voice, usually a rich tenor, rose into a treble which would have sounded petulantly but for the deliberateness and entire distinctness of the enunciation. Observing him in these moods, I often dwelt meditatively upon the old philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with the fancy of a double Dupin --the creative and the resolvent. Let it not be supposed, from what I have just said, that I am detailing any mystery, or penning any romance. What I have described in the Frenchman, was merely the result of an excited, or perhaps of a diseased intelligence. But of the character of his remarks at the periods in question an example will best convey the idea. We were strolling one night down a long dirty street, in the vicinity of the Palais Royal. Being both, apparently, occupied with thought, neither of us had spoken a syllable for fifteen minutes at least. All at once Dupin broke forth with these words:"He is a very little fellow, that's true, and would do better for the Theatre des Varietes." "There can be no doubt of that," I replied unwittingly, and not at first observing (so much had I been absorbed in reflection) the extraordinary manner in which the speaker had chimed in with my meditations. In an instant afterward I recollected myself, and my astonishment was profound. "Dupin," said I, gravely, "this is beyond my comprehension. I do not hesitate to say that I am amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses. How was it possible you should know I was thinking of --?" Here I paused, to ascertain beyond a doubt whether he really knew of whom I thought. --"of Chantilly," said he, "why do you pause? You were remarking to yourself that his diminutive figure unfitted him for tragedy." This was precisely what had formed the subject of my reflections. Chantilly was a quondam cobbler of the Rue St. Denis, who, becoming stage-mad, had attempted the role of Xerxes, in Crebillon's tragedy so called, and been notoriously Pasquinaded for his pains. "Tell me, for Heaven's sake," I exclaimed, "the method --if method there is --by which you have been enabled to fathom my soul in this matter." In fact I was even more startled than I would have been willing to express. "It was the fruiterer," replied my friend, "who brought you to the conclusion that the mender of soles was not of sufficient height for Xerxes et id genus omne." "The fruiterer! --you astonish me --I know no fruiterer whomsoever." "The man who ran up against you as we entered the street --it may have been fifteen minutes ago." I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carrying upon his head a large basket of apples,

had nearly thrown me down, by accident, as we passed from the Rue C-- into the thoroughfare where we stood; but what this had to do with Chantilly I could not possibly understand. There was not a particle of charlatanerie about Dupin. "I will explain," he said, "and that you may comprehend all clearly, we will first retrace the course of your meditations, from the moment in which I spoke to you until that of the rencontre with the fruiterer in question. The larger links of the chain run thus --Chantilly, Orion, Dr. Nichols, Epicurus, Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruiterer." There are few persons who have not, at some period of their lives, amused themselves in retracing the steps by which particular conclusions of their own minds have been attained. The occupation is often full of interest; and he who attempts it for the first time is astonished by the apparently illimitable distance and incoherence between the starting-point and the goal. What, then, must have been my amazement when I heard the Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, and when I could not help acknowledging that he had spoken the truth. He continued: "We had been talking of horses, if I remember aright, just before leaving the Rue C--. This was the last subject we discussed. As we crossed into this street, a fruiterer, with a large basket upon his head, brushing quickly past us, thrust you upon a pile of paving-stones collected at a spot where the causeway is undergoing repair. You stepped upon one of the loose fragments) slipped, slightly strained your ankle, appeared vexed or sulky, muttered a few words, turned to look at the pile, and then proceeded in silence. I was not particularly attentive to what you did; but observation has become with me, of late, a species of necessity. "You kept your eyes upon the ground --glancing, with a petulant expression, at the holes and ruts in the pavement, (so that I saw you were still thinking of the stones,) until we reached the little alley called Lamartine, which has been paved, by way of experiment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened up, and, perceiving your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured the word 'stereotomy,' a term very affectedly applied to this species of pavement. I knew that you could not say to yourself 'stereotomy' without being brought to think of atomies, and thus of the theories of Epicurus; and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I mentioned to you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guesses of that noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, I felt that you could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great nebula in Orion, and I certainly expected that you would do so. You did look up; and I was now assured that I had correctly followed your steps. But in that bitter tirade upon Chantilly, which appeared in yesterday's 'Musee,' the satirist, making some disgraceful allusions to the cobbler's change of name upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latin line about which we have often conversed. I mean the line Perdidit antiquum litera prima sonum. I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly written Urion; and, from certain

pungencies connected with this explanation, I was aware that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, that you would not fall to combine the ideas of Orion and Chantilly. That you did combine them I say by the character of the smile which passed over your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler's immolation. So far, you had been stooping in your gait; but now I saw you draw yourself up to your full height. I was then sure that you reflected upon the diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I interrupted your meditations to remark that as, in fact, he was a very little fellow --that Chantilly --he would do better at the Theatre des Varietes." Not long after this, we were looking over an evening edition of the "Gazette des Tribunaux," when the following paragraphs arrested our attention. "Extraordinary Murders. --This morning, about three o'clock, the inhabitants of the Quartier St. Roch were aroused from sleep by a succession of terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from the fourth story of a house in the Rue Morgue, known to be in the sole occupancy of one Madame L'Espanaye, and her daughter, Mademoiselle Camille L'Espanaye. After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to procure admission in the usual manner, the gateway was broken in with a crowbar, and eight or ten of the neighbors entered, accompanied by two gendarmes. By this time the cries had ceased; but, as the party rushed up the first flight of stairs, two or more rough voices, in angry contention, were distinguished, and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house. As the second landing was reached, these sounds, also, had ceased, and everything remained perfectly quiet. The party spread themselves, and hurried from room to room. Upon arriving at a large back chamber in the fourth story, (the door of which, being found locked, with the key inside, was forced open,) a spectacle presented itself which struck every one present not less with horror than with astonishment. "The apartment was in the wildest disorder --the furniture broken and thrown about in all directions. There was only one bedstead; and from this the bed had been removed, and thrown into the middle of the floor. On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with blood. On the hearth were two or three long and thick tresses of grey human hair, also dabbled in blood, and seeming to have been pulled out by the roots. Upon the floor were found four Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz, three large silver spoons, three smaller of metal d'Alger, and two bags, containing nearly four thousand francs in gold. The drawers of a bureau, which stood in one corner, were open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although many articles still remained in them. A small iron safe was discovered under the bed (not under the bedstead). It was open, with the key still in the door. It had no contents beyond a few old letters, and other papers of little consequence. "Of Madame L'Espanaye no traces were here seen; but an unusual quantity of soot being observed in the fire-place, a search was made in the chimney, and (horrible to relate!) the corpse of the daughter, head downward, was dragged therefrom; it having been thus forced up the narrow aperture for a considerable distance. The body was quite warm. Upon examining it, many excoriations were perceived, no doubt occasioned by the violence with which it had been thrust up and disengaged. Upon the face were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat, dark bruises, and deep indentations of finger nails, as if the deceased

had been throttled to death. "After a thorough investigation of every portion of the house, without farther discovery, the party made its way into a small paved yard in the rear of the building, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her throat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise her, the head fell off. The body, as well as the head, was fearfully mutilated --the former so much so as scarcely to retain any semblance of humanity. "To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we believe, the slightest clew." The next day's paper had these additional particulars.

"The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue. Many individuals have been examined in relation to this most extraordinary and frightful affair," [The word 'affaire' has not yet, in France, that levity of import which it conveys with us] "but nothing whatever has transpired to throw light upon We give below all the material testimony elicited. "Pauline Dubourg, laundress, deposes that she has known both the deceased for three years, having washed for them during that period. The old lady and her daughter seemed on good terms-very affectionate towards each other. They were excellent pay. Could not speak in regard to their mode or means of living. Believed that Madame L. told fortunes for a living. Was reputed to have money put by. Never met any persons in the house when she called for the clothes or took them home. Was sure that they had no servant in employ. There appeared to be no furniture in any part of the building except in the fourth story. "Pierre Moreau, tobacconist, deposes that he has been in the habit of selling small quantities of tobacco and snuff to Madame L'Espanaye for nearly four years. Was born in the neighborhood, and has always resided there. The deceased and her daughter had occupied the house in which the corpses were found, for more than six years. It was formerly occupied by a jeweller, who under-let the upper rooms to various persons. The house was the property of Madame L. She became dissatisfied with the abuse of the premises by her tenant, and moved into them herself, refusing to let any portion. The old lady was childish. Witness had seen the daughter some five or six times during the six years. The two lived an exceedingly retired life --were reputed to have money. Had heard it said among the neighbors that Madame L. told fortunes --did not believe it. Had never seen any person enter the door except the old lady and her daughter, a porter once or twice, and a physician some eight or ten times. "Many other persons, neighbors, gave evidence to the same effect. No one was spoken of as frequenting the house. It was not known whether there were any living connexions of Madame L. and her daughter. The shutters of the front windows were seldom opened. Those in the rear were always closed, with the exception of the large back room, fourth story. The house was a good house --not very old. "Isidore Muset, gendarme, deposes that he was called to the house about three o'clock in

the morning, and found some twenty or thirty persons at the gateway, endeavoring to gain admittance. Forced it open, at length, with a bayonet --not with a crowbar. Had but little difficulty in getting it open, on account of its being a double or folding gate, and bolted neither at bottom nor top. The shrieks were continued until the gate was forced --and then suddenly ceased. They seemed to be screams of some person (or persons) in great agony -were loud and drawn out, not short and quick. Witness led the way up stairs. Upon reaching the first landing, heard two voices in loud and angry contention-the one a gruff voice, the other much shriller --a very strange voice. Could distinguish some words of the former, which was that of a Frenchman. Was positive that it was not a woman's voice. Could distinguish the words 'sacre' and 'diable.' The shrill voice was that of a foreigner. Could not be sure whether it was the voice of a man or of a woman. Could not make out what was said, but believed the language to be Spanish. The state of the room and of the bodies was described by this witness as we described them yesterday. "Henri Duval, a neighbor, and by trade a silversmith, deposes that he was one of the party who first entered the house. Corroborates the testimony of Muset in general. As soon as they forced an entrance, they reclosed the door, to keep out the crowd, which collected very fast, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The shrill voice, the witness thinks, was that of an Italian. Was certain it was not French. Could not be sure that it was a man's voice. It might have been a woman's. Was not acquainted with the Italian language. Could not distinguish the words, but was convinced by the intonation that the speaker was an Italian. Knew Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with both frequently. Was sure that the shrill voice was not that of either of the deceased. "--Odenheimer, restaurateur. This witness volunteered his testimony. Not speaking French, was examined through an interpreter. Is a native of Amsterdam. Was passing the house at the time of the shrieks. They lasted for several minutes --probably ten. They were long and loud --very awful and distressing. Was one of those who entered the building. Corroborated the previous evidence in every respect but one. Was sure that the shrill voice was that of a man --of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish the words uttered. They were loud and quick -unequal --spoken apparently in fear as well as in anger. The voice was harsh --not so much shrill as harsh. Could not call it a shrill voice. The gruff voice said repeatedly 'sacre,' 'diable' and once 'mon Dieu.' "Jules Mignaud, banker, of the firm of Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine. Is the elder Mignaud. Madame L'Espanaye had some property. Had opened an account with his baking house in the spring of the year -- (eight years previously). Made frequent deposits in small sums. Had checked for nothing until the third day before her death, when she took out in person the sum of 4000 francs. This sum was paid in gold, and a clerk sent home with the money. "Adolphe Le Bon, clerk to Mignaud et Fils, deposes that on the day in question, about noon, he accompanied Madame L'Espanaye to her residence with the 4000 francs, put up in two bags. Upon the door being opened, Mademoiselle L. appeared and took from his hands one of the bags, while the old lady relieved him of the other. He then bowed and departed.

Did not see any person in the street at the time. It is a bye-street --very lonely. William Bird, tailor, deposes that he was one of the party who entered the house. Is an Englishman. Has lived in Paris two years. Was one of the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in contention. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could make out several words, but cannot now remember all. Heard distinctly 'sacre' and 'mon Dieu.' There was a sound at the moment as if of several persons struggling --a scraping and scuffling sound. The shrill voice was very loud --louder than the gruff one. Is sure that it was not the voice of an Englishman. Appeared to be that of a German. Might have been a woman's voice. Does not understand German. "Four of the above-named witnesses, being recalled, deposed that the door of the chamber in which was found the body of Mademoiselle L. was locked on the inside when the party reached it. Every thing was perfectly silent --no groans or noises of any kind. Upon forcing the door no person was seen. The windows, both of the back and front room, were down and firmly fastened from within. A door between the two rooms was closed, but not locked. The door leading from the front room into the passage was locked, with the key on the inside. A small room in the front of the house, on the fourth story, at the head of the passage, was open, the door being ajar. This room was crowded with old beds, boxes, and so forth. These were carefully removed and searched. There was not an inch of any portion of the house which was not carefully searched. Sweeps were sent up and down the chimneys. The house was a four story one, with garrets (mansardes). A trap-door on the roof was nailed down very securely --did not appear to have been opened for years. The time elapsing between the hearing of the voices in contention and the breaking open of the room door, was variously stated by the witnesses. Some made it as short as three minutes -some as long as five. The door was opened with difficulty. "Alfonzo Garcio, undertaker, deposes that he resides in the Rue Morgue. Is a native of Spain. Was one of the party who entered the house. Did not proceed up stairs. Is nervous, and was apprehensive of the consequences of agitation. Heard the voices in contention. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish what was said. The shrill voice was that of an Englishman --is sure of this. Does not understand the English language, but judges by the intonation. "Alberto Montani, confectioner, deposes that he was among the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in question. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Distinguished several words. The speaker appeared to be expostulating. Could not make out the words of the shrill voice. Spoke quick and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian. Corroborates the general testimony. Is an Italian. Never conversed with a native of Russia. "Several witnesses, recalled, here testified that the chimneys of all the rooms on the fourth story were too narrow to admit the passage of a human being. By 'sweeps' were meant cylindrical sweeping-brushes, such as are employed by those who clean chimneys. These brushes were passed up and down every flue in the house. There is no back passage by which any one could have descended while the party proceeded up stairs. The body of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was so firmly wedged in the chimney that it could not be got

down until four or five of the party united their strength. "Paul Dumas, physician, deposes that he was called to view the bodies about day-break. They were both then lying on the sacking of the bedstead in the chamber where Mademoiselle L. was found. The corpse of the young lady was much bruised and excoriated. The fact that it had been thrust up the chimney would sufficiently account for these appearances. The throat was greatly chafed. There were several deep scratches just below the chin, together with a series of livid spots which were evidently the impression of fingers. The face was fearfully discolored, and the eye-balls protruded. The tongue had been partially bitten through. A large bruise was discovered upon the pit of the stomach, produced, apparently, by the pressure of a knee. In the opinion of M. Dumas, Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been throttled to death by some person or persons unknown. The corpse of the mother was horribly mutilated. All the bones of the right leg and arm were more or less shattered. The left tibia much splintered, as well as all the ribs of the left side. Whole body dreadfully bruised and discolored. It was not possible to say how the injuries had been inflicted. A heavy club of wood, or a broad bar of iron --a chair --any large, heavy, and obtuse weapon have produced such results, if wielded by the hands of a very powerful man. No woman could have inflicted the blows with any weapon. The head of the deceased, when seen by witness, was entirely separated from the body, and was also greatly shattered. The throat had evidently been cut with some very sharp instrument --probably with a razor. "Alexandre Etienne, surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to view the bodies. Corroborated the testimony, and the opinions of M. Dumas. "Nothing farther of importance was elicited, although several other persons were examined. A murder so mysterious, and so perplexing in all its particulars, was never before committed in Paris --if indeed a murder has been committed at all. The police are entirely at fault --an unusual occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the shadow of a clew apparent." The evening edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitement continued in the Quartier St. Roch --that the premises in question had been carefully re-searched, and fresh examinations of witnesses instituted, but all to no purpose. A postscript, however mentioned that Adolphe Le Bon had been arrested and imprisoned --although nothing appeared to criminate him, beyond the facts already detailed. Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair --at least so I judged from his manner, for he made no comments. It was only after the announcement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that he asked me my opinion respecting the murders. I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insoluble mystery. I saw no means by which it would be possible to trace the murderer. "We must not judge of the means," said Dupin, "by this shell of an examination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for acumen, are cunning, but no more. There is no method in their proceedings, beyond the method of the moment. They make a vast parade of

measures; but, not unfrequently, these are so ill adapted to the objects proposed, as to put us in mind of Monsieur Jourdain's calling for his robe-de-chambre --pour mieux entendre la musique. The results attained by them are not unfrequently surprising, but, for the most part, are brought about by simple diligence and activity. When these qualities are unavailing, their schemes fall. Vidocq, for example, was a good guesser, and a persevering man. But, without educated thought, he erred continually by the very intensity of his investigations. He impaired his vision by holding the object too close. He might see, perhaps, one or two points with unusual clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sight of the matter as a whole. Thus there is such a thing as being too profound. Truth is not always in a well. In fact, as regards the more important knowledge, I do believe that she is invariably superficial. The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found. The modes and sources of this kind of error are well typified in the contemplation of the heavenly bodies. To look at a star by glances --to view it in a side-long way, by turning toward it the exterior portions of the retina (more susceptible of feeble impressions of light than the interior), is to behold the star distinctly -is to have the best appreciation of its lustre --a lustre which grows dim just in proportion as we turn our vision fully upon it. A greater number of rays actually fall upon the eye in the latter case, but, in the former, there is the more refined capacity for comprehension. By undue profundity we perplex and enfeeble thought; and it is possible to make even Venus herself vanish from the firmament by a scrutiny too sustained, too concentrated, or too direct. "As for these murders, let us enter into some examinations for ourselves, before we make up an opinion respecting them. An inquiry will afford us amusement," (I thought this an odd term, so applied, but said nothing) "and, besides, Le Bon once rendered me a service for which I am not ungrateful. We will go and see the premises with our own eyes. I know G--, the Prefect of Police, and shall have no difficulty in obtaining the necessary permission." The permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue Morgue. This is one of those miserable thoroughfares which intervene between the Rue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. It was late in the afternoon when we reached it; as this quarter is at a great distance from that in which we resided. The house was readily found; for there were still many persons gazing up at the closed shutters, with an objectless curiosity, from the opposite side of the way. It was an ordinary Parisian house, with a gateway, on one side of which was a glazed watch-box, with a sliding way, on one si panel in the window, indicating a loge de concierge. Before going in we walked up the street, turned down an alley, and then, again turning, passed in the rear of the building-Dupin, meanwhile, examining the whole neighborhood, as well as the house, with a minuteness of attention for which I could see no possible object. Retracing our steps, we came again to the front of the dwelling, rang, and, having shown our credentials, were admitted by the agents in charge. We went up stairs --into the chamber where the body of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been found, and where both the deceased still lay. The disorders of the room had, as usual, been suffered to exist. I saw nothing beyond what had been stated in the "Gazette des Tribunaux." Dupin scrutinized

every thing-not excepting the bodies of the victims. We then went into the other rooms, and into the yard; a gendarme accompanying us throughout. The examination occupied us until dark, when we took our departure. On our way home my companion stopped in for a moment at the office of one of the dally papers. I have said that the whims of my friend were manifold, and that Fe les menageais: --for this phrase there is no English equivalent. It was his humor, now, to decline all conversation on the subject of the murder, until about noon the next day. He then asked me, suddenly, if I had observed any thing peculiar at the scene of the atrocity. There was something in his manner of emphasizing the word "peculiar," which caused me to shudder, without knowing why. "No, nothing peculiar," I said; "nothing more, at least, than we both saw stated in the paper." "The 'Gazette,'" he replied, "has not entered, I fear, into the unusual horror of the thing. But dismiss the idle opinions of this print. It appears to me that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the very reason which should cause it to be regarded as easy of solution --I mean for the outre character of its features. The police are confounded by the seeming absence of motive --not for the murder itself --but for the atrocity of the murder. They are puzzled, too, by the seeming impossibility of reconciling the voices heard in contention, with the facts that no one was discovered up stairs but the assassinated Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and that there were no means of egress without the notice of the party ascending. The wild disorder of the room; the corpse thrust, with the head downward, up the chimney; the frightful mutilation of the body of the old lady; these considerations with those just mentioned, and others which I need not mention, have sufficed to paralyze the powers, by putting completely at fault the boasted acumen, of the government agents. They have fallen into the gross but common error of confounding the unusual with the abstruse. But it is by these deviations from the plane of the ordinary, that reason feels its way, if at all, in its search for the true. In investigations such as we are now pursuing, it should not be so much asked 'what has occurred,' as 'what has occurred that has never occurred before.' In fact, the facility with which I shall arrive, or have arrived, at the solution of this mystery, is in the direct ratio of its apparent insolubility in the eyes of the police." I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment. "I am now awaiting," continued he, looking toward the door of our apartment --"I am now awaiting a person who, although perhaps not the perpetrator of these butcheries, must have been in some measure implicated in their perpetration. Of the worst portion of the crimes committed, it is probable that he is innocent. I hope that I am right in this supposition; for upon it I build my expectation of reading the entire riddle. I look for the man here --in this room --every moment. It is true that he may not arrive; but the probability is that he will. Should he come, it will be necessary to detain him. Here are pistols; and we both know how to use them when occasion demands their use." I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did, or believing what I heard, while Dupin went

on, very much as if in a soliloquy. I have already spoken of his abstract manner at such times. His discourse was addressed to myself; but his voice, although by no means loud, had that intonation which is commonly employed in speaking to some one at a great distance. His eyes, vacant in expression, regarded only the wall. "That the voices heard in contention," he said, "by the party upon the stairs, were not the voices of the women themselves, was fully proved by the evidence. This relieves us of all doubt upon the question whether the old lady could have first destroyed the daughter, and afterward have committed suicide. I speak of this point chiefly for the sake of method; for the strength of Madame L'Espanaye would have been utterly unequal to the task of thrusting her daughter's corpse up the chimney as it was found; and the nature of the wounds upon her own person entirely preclude the idea of self-destruction. Murder, then, has been committed by some third party; and the voices of this third party were those heard in contention. Let me now advert --not to the whole testimony respecting these voices --but to what was peculiar in that testimony. Did you observe anything peculiar about it?" I remarked that, while all the witnesses agreed in supposing the gruff voice to be that of a Frenchman, there was much disagreement in regard to the shrill, or, as one individual termed it, the harsh voice. "That was the evidence itself," said Dupin, "but it was not the peculiarity of the evidence. You have observed nothing distinctive. Yet there was something to be observed. The witnesses, as you remark, agreed about the gruff voice; they were here unanimous. But in regard to the shrill voice, the peculiarity is not that they disagreed --but that, while an Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard, a Hollander, and a Frenchman attempted to describe it, each one spoke of it as that of a foreigner. Each is sure that it was not the voice of one of his own countrymen. Each likens it --not to the voice of an individual of any nation with whose language he is conversant --but the converse. The Frenchman supposes it the voice of a Spaniard, and 'might have distinguished some words had he been acquainted with the Spanish.' The Dutchman maintains it to have been that of a Frenchman; but we find it stated that 'not understanding French this witness was examined through an interpreter.' The Englishman thinks it the voice of a German, and 'does not understand German.' The Spaniard 'is sure' that it was that of an Englishman, but 'judges by the intonation' altogether, 'as he has no knowledge of the English.' The Italian believes it the voice of a Russian, but 'has never conversed with a native of Russia.' A second Frenchman differs, moreover, with the first, and is positive that the voice was that of an Italian; but, not being cognizant of that tongue, is, like the Spaniard, 'convinced by the intonation.' Now, how strangely unusual must that voice have really been, about which such testimony as this could have been elicited! --in whose tones, even, denizens of the five great divisions of Europe could recognise nothing familiar! You will say that it might have been the voice of an Asiatic --of an African. Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound in Paris; but, without denying the inference, I will now merely call your attention to three points. The voice is termed by one witness 'harsh rather than shrill.' It is represented by two others to have been 'quick and unequal' No words --no sounds resembling words --were by any witness mentioned as distinguishable.

"I know not," continued Dupin, "what impression I may have made, so far, upon your own understanding; but I do not hesitate to say that legitimate deductions even from this portion of the testimony --the portion respecting the gruff and shrill voices --are in themselves sufficient to engender a suspicion which should give direction to all farther progress in the investigation of the mystery. I said 'legitimate deductions;' but my meaning is not thus fully expressed. I designed to imply that the deductions are the sole proper ones, and that the suspicion arises inevitably from them as the single result. What the suspicion is, however, I will not say just yet. I merely wish you to bear in mind that, with myself, it was sufficiently forcible to give a definite form --a certain tendency --to my inquiries in the chamber. "Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this chamber. What shall we first seek here? The means of egress employed by the murderers. It is not too much to say that neither of us believe in praeternatural events. Madame and Mademoiselle L'Espanaye were not destroyed by spirits. The doers of the deed were material, and escaped materially. Then how? Fortunately, there is but one mode of reasoning upon the point, and that mode must lead us to a definite decision. --Let us examine, each by each, the possible means of egress. It is clear that the assassins were in the room where Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was found, or at least in the room adjoining, when the party ascended the stairs. It is then only from these two apartments that we have to seek issues. The police have laid bare the floors, the ceilings, and the masonry of the walls, in every direction. No secret issues could have escaped their vigilance. But, not trusting to their eyes, I examined with my own. There were, then, no secret issues. Both doors leading from the rooms into the passage were securely locked, with the keys inside. Let us turn to the chimneys. These, although of ordinary width for some eight or ten feet above the hearths, will not admit, throughout their extent, the body of a large cat. The impossibility of egress, by means already stated, being thus absolute, we are reduced to the windows. Through those of the front room no one could have escaped without notice from the crowd in the street. The murderers must have passed, then, through those of the back room. Now, brought to this conclusion in so unequivocal a manner as we are, it is not our part, as reasoners, to reject it on account of apparent impossibilities. It is only left for us to prove that these apparent 'impossibilities' are, in reality, not such. "There are two windows in the chamber. One of them is unobstructed by furniture, and is wholly visible. The lower portion of the other is hidden from view by the head of the unwieldy bedstead which is thrust close up against it. The former was found securely fastened from within. It resisted the utmost force of those who endeavored to raise it. A large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame to the left, and a very stout nail was found fitted therein, nearly to the head. Upon examining the other window, a similar nail was seen similarly fitted in it; and a vigorous attempt to raise this sash, failed also. The police were now entirely satisfied that egress had not been in these directions. And, therefore, it was thought a matter of supererogation to withdraw the nails and open the windows. "My own examination was somewhat more particular, and was so for the reason I have just given --because here it was, I knew, that all apparent impossibilities must be proved to be not such in reality.

"I proceeded to think thus --a posteriori. The murderers did escape from one of these windows. This being so, they could not have re-fastened the sashes from the inside, as they were found fastened; --the consideration which put a stop, through its obviousness, to the scrutiny of the police in this quarter. Yet the sashes were fastened. They must, then, have the power of fastening themselves. There was no escape from this conclusion. I stepped to the unobstructed casement, withdrew the nail with some difficulty, and attempted to raise the sash. It resisted all my efforts, as I had anticipated. A concealed spring must, I now knew, exist; and this corroboration of my idea convinced me that my premises, at least, were correct, however mysterious still appeared the circumstances attending the nails. A careful search soon brought to light the hidden spring. I pressed it, and, satisfied with the discovery, forebore to upraise the sash. "I now replaced the nail and regarded it attentively. A person passing out through this window might have reclosed it, and the spring would have caught --but the nail could not have been replaced. The conclusion was plain, and again narrowed in the field of my investigations. The assassins must have escaped through the other window. Supposing, then, the springs upon each sash to be the same, as was probable, there must be found a difference between the nails, or at least between the modes of their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bedstead, I looked over the headboard minutely at the second casement. Passing my hand down behind the board, I readily discovered and pressed the spring, which was, as I had supposed, identical in character with its neighbor. I now looked at the nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparently fitted in the same manner --driven in nearly up to the head. "You will say that I was puzzled; but, if you think so, you must have misunderstood the nature of the inductions. To use a sporting phrase, I had not been once 'at fault.' The scent had never for an instant been lost. There was no flaw in any link of the chain. I had traced the secret to its ultimate result, --and that result was the nail. It had, I say, in every respect, the appearance of its fellow in the other window; but this fact was an absolute nullity (conclusive as it might seem to be) when compared with the consideration that here, at this point, terminated the clew. 'There must be something wrong,' I said, 'about the nail.' I touched it; and the head, with about a quarter of an inch of the shank, came off in my fingers. The rest of the shank was in the gimlet-hole, where it had been broken off. The fracture was an old one (for its edges were incrusted with rust), and had apparently been accomplished by the blow of a hammer, which had partially imbedded, in the top of the bottom sash, the head portion of the nail. now carefully replaced this head portion in the indentation whence I had taken it, and the resemblance to a perfect nail was complete-the fissure was invisible. Pressing the spring, I gently raised the sash for a few inches; the head went up with it, remaining firm in its bed. I closed the window, and the semblance of the whole nail was again perfect. "The riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The assassin had escaped through the window which looked upon the bed. Dropping of its own accord upon his exit (or perhaps purposely closed) it had become fastened by the spring; and it was the retention of this spring which had been mistaken by the police for that of the nail, --farther inquiry being thus considered

unnecessary. "The next question is that of the mode of descent. Upon this point I had been satisfied in my walk with you around the building. About five feet and a half from the casement in question there runs a lightning-rod. From this rod it would have been impossible for any one to reach the window itself, to say nothing of entering it. I observed, however, that shutters of the fourth story were of the peculiar kind called by Parisian carpenters ferrades -a kind rarely employed at the present day, but frequently seen upon very old mansions at Lyons and Bordeaux. They are in the form of an ordinary door, (a single, not a folding door) except that the upper half is latticed or worked in open trellis --thus affording an excellent hold for the hands. In the present instance these shutters are fully three feet and a half broad. When we saw them from the rear of the house, they were both about half open -that is to say, they stood off at right angles from the wall. It is probable that the police, as well as myself, examined the back of the tenement; but, if so, in looking at these ferrades in the line of their breadth (as they must have done), they did not perceive this great breadth itself, or, at all events, failed to take it into due consideration. In fact, having once satisfied themselves that no egress could have been made in this quarter, they would naturally bestow here a very cursory examination. It was clear to me, however, that the shutter belonging to the window at the head of the bed, would, if swung fully back to the wall, reach to within two feet of the lightning-rod. It was also evident that, by exertion of a very unusual degree of activity and courage, an entrance into the window, from the rod, might have been thus effected. --By reaching to the distance of two feet and a half (we now suppose the shutter open to its whole extent) a robber might have taken a firm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting go, then, his hold upon the rod, placing his feet securely against the wall, and springing boldly from it, he might have swung the shutter so as to close it, and, if we imagine the window open at the time, might have swung himself into the room. "I wish you to bear especially in mind that I have spoken of a very unusual degree of activity as requisite to success in so hazardous and so difficult a feat. It is my design to show you, first, that the thing might possibly have been accomplished: --but, secondly and chiefly, I wish to impress upon your understanding the very extraordinary --the almost praeternatural character of that agility which could have accomplished it. "You will say, no doubt, using the language of the law, that 'to make out my case' I should rather undervalue, than insist upon a full estimation of the activity required in this matter. This may be the practice in law, but it is not the usage of reason. My ultimate object is only the truth. My immediate purpose is to lead you to place in juxta-position that very unusual activity of which I have just spoken, with that very peculiar shrill (or harsh) and unequal voice, about whose nationality no two persons could be found to agree, and in whose utterance no syllabification could be detected." At these words a vague and half-formed conception of the meaning of Dupin flitted over my mind. I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension, without power to comprehend -as men, at times, find themselves upon the brink of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember. My friend went on with his discourse.

"You will see," he said, "that I have shifted the question from the mode of egress to that of ingress. It was my design to suggest that both were effected in the same manner, at the same point. Let us now revert to the interior of the room. Let us survey the appearances here. The drawers of the bureau, it is said, had been rifled, although many articles of apparel still remained within them. The conclusion here is absurd. It is a mere guess --a very silly one --and no more. How are we to know that the articles found in the drawers were not all these drawers had originally contained? Madame L'Espanaye and her daughter lived an exceedingly retired life --saw no company --seldom went out --had little use for numerous changes of habiliment. Those found were at least of as good quality as any likely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief had taken any, why did he not take the best --why did he not take all? In a word, why did he abandon four thousand francs in gold to encumber himself with a bundle of linen? The gold was abandoned. Nearly the whole sum mentioned by Monsieur Mignaud, the banker, was discovered, in bags, upon the floor. I wish you, therefore, to discard from your thoughts the blundering idea of motive, engendered in the brains of the police by that portion of the evidence which speaks of money delivered at the door of the house. Coincidences ten times as remarkable as this (the delivery of the money, and murder committed within three days upon the party receiving it), happen to all of us every hour of our lives, without attracting even momentary notice. Coincidences, in general, are great stumbling-blocks in the way of that class of thinkers who have been educated to know nothing of the theory of probabilities --that theory to which the most glorious objects of human research are indebted for the most glorious of illustration. In the present instance, had the gold been gone, the fact of its delivery three days before would have formed something more than a coincidence. It would have been corroborative of this idea of motive. But, under the real circumstances of the case, if we are to suppose gold the motive of this outrage, we must also imagine the perpetrator so vacillating an idiot as to have abandoned his gold and his motive together. "Keeping now steadily in mind the points to which I have drawn your attention --that peculiar voice, that unusual agility, and that startling absence of motive in a murder so singularly atrocious as this --let us glance at the butchery itself. Here is a woman strangled to death by manual strength, and thrust up a chimney, head downward. Ordinary assassins employ no such modes of murder as this. Least of all, do they thus dispose of the murdered. In the manner of thrusting the corpse up the chimney, you will that there was something excessively outre --something altogether irreconcilable with our common notions of human action, even when we suppose the actors the most depraved of men. Think, too, how great must have been that strength which could have thrust the body up such an aperture so forcibly that the united vigor of several persons was found barely sufficient to drag it down! "Turn, now, to other indications of the employment of a vigor most marvellous. On the hearth were thick tresses --very thick tresses --of grey human hair. These had been torn out by the roots. You are aware of the great force necessary in tearing thus from the head even twenty or thirty hairs together. You saw the locks in question as well as myself. Their roots (a hideous sight!) were clotted with fragments of the flesh of the scalp --sure token of the prodigious power which had been exerted in uprooting perhaps half a million of hairs at a time. The throat of the old lady was not merely cut, but the head absolutely severed from the body: the instrument was a mere razor. I wish you also to look at the brutal ferocity of

these deeds. Of the bruises upon the body of Madame L'Espanaye I do not speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthy coadjutor Monsieur Etienne, have pronounced that they were inflicted by some obtuse instrument; and so far these gentlemen are very correct. The obtuse instrument was clearly the stone pavement in the yard, upon which the victim had fallen from the window which looked in upon the bed. This idea, however simple it may now seem, escaped the police for the same reason that the breadth of the shutters escaped them --because, by the affair of the nails, their perceptions had been hermetically sealed against the possibility of the windows have ever been opened at all. If now, in addition to all these things, you have properly reflected upon the odd disorder of the chamber, we have gone so far as to combine the ideas of an agility astounding, a strength superhuman, a ferocity brutal, a butchery without motive, a grotesquerie in horror absolutely alien from humanity, and a voice foreign in tone to the ears of men of many nations, and devoid of all distinct or intelligible syllabification. What result, then, has ensued? What impression have I made upon your fancy?" I felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the question. "A madman," I said, "has done this deed --some raving maniac, escaped from a neighboring Maison de Sante." "In some respects," he replied, "your idea is not irrelevant. But the voices of madmen, even in their wildest paroxysms, are never found to tally with that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Madmen are of some nation, and their language, however incoherent in its words, has always the coherence of syllabification. Besides, the hair of a madman is not such as I now hold in my hand. I disentangled this little tuft from the rigidly clutched fingers of Madame L'Espanaye. Tell me what you can make of it." "Dupin!" I said, completely unnerved; "this hair is most unusual --this is no human hair." "I have not asserted that it is," said he; "but, before we decide this point, I wish you to glance at the little sketch I have here traced upon this paper. It is a fac-simile drawing of what has been described in one portion of the testimony as 'dark bruises, and deep indentations of finger nails,' upon the throat of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and in another, (by Messrs. Dumas and Etienne,) as a 'series of livid spots, evidently the impression of fingers.' "You will perceive," continued my friend, spreading out the paper upon the table before us, "that this drawing gives the idea of a firm and fixed hold. There is no slipping apparent. Each finger has retained --possibly until the death of the victim --the fearful grasp by which it originally imbedded itself. Attempt, now, to place all your fingers, at the same time, in the respective impressions as you see them." I made the attempt in vain. "We are possibly not giving this matter a fair trial," he said. "The paper is spread out upon a plane surface; but the human throat is cylindrical. Here is a billet of wood, the circumference of which is about that of the throat. Wrap the drawing around it, and try the

experiment again." I did so; but the difficulty was even more obvious than before. "This," I said, "is the mark of no human hand." "Read now," replied Dupin, "this passage from Cuvier." It was a minute anatomical and generally descriptive account of the large fulvous Ourang-Outang of the East Indian Islands. The gigantic stature, the prodigious strength and activity, the wild ferocity, and the imitative propensities of these mammalia are sufficiently well known to all. I understood the full horrors of the murder at once. "The description of the digits," said I, as I made an end of reading, "is in exact accordance with this drawing, I see that no animal but an Ourang-Outang, of the species here mentioned, could have impressed the indentations as you have traced them. This tuft of tawny hair, too, is identical in character with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I cannot possibly comprehend the particulars of this frightful mystery. Besides, there were two voices heard in contention, and one of them was unquestionably the voice of a Frenchman." True; and you will remember an expression attributed almost unanimously, by the evidence, to this voice, --the expression, 'mon Dieu!' This, under the circumstances, has been justly characterized by one of the witnesses (Montani, the confectioner,) as an expression of remonstrance or expostulation. Upon these two words, therefore, I have mainly built my hopes of a full solution of the riddle. A Frenchman was cognizant of the murder. It is possible --indeed it is far more than probable --that he was innocent of all participation in the bloody transactions which took place. The Ourang-Outang may have escaped from him. He may have traced it to the chamber; but, under the agitating circumstances which ensued, he could never have re-captured it. It is still at large. I will not pursue these guesses-for I have no right to call them more --since the shades of reflection upon which they are based are scarcely of sufficient depth to be appreciable by my own intellect, and since I could not pretend to make them intelligible to the understanding of another. We will call them guesses then, and speak of them as such. If the Frenchman in question is indeed, as I suppose, innocent of this atrocity, this advertisement, which I left last night, upon our return home, at the office of 'Le Monde,' (a paper devoted to the shipping interest, and much sought by sailors,) will bring him to our residence." He handed me a paper, and I read thus:

Caught --In the Bois de Boulogne, early in the morning of the --inst., (the morning of the murder,) a very large, tawny Ourang-Outang of the Bornese species. The owner, (who is ascertained to be a sailor, belonging to a Maltese vessel,) may have the animal again, upon identifying it satisfactorily, and paying a few charges arising from its capture and keeping. Call at No.--, Rue --, Faubourg St. Germain --au troisieme.

"How was it possible," I asked, "that you should know the man to be a sailor, and belonging to a Maltese vessel?" "I do not know it," said Dupin. "I am not sure of it. Here, however, is a small piece of ribbon, which from its form, and from its greasy appearance, has evidently been used in tying the hair in one of those long queues of which sailors are so fond. Moreover, this knot is one which few besides sailors can tie, and is peculiar to the Maltese. I picked the ribbon up at the foot of the lightning-rod. It could not have belonged to either of the deceased. Now if, after all, I am wrong in my induction from this ribbon, that the Frenchman was a sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel, still I can have done no harm in saying what I did in the advertisement. If I am in error, he will merely suppose that I have been misled by some circumstance into which he will not take the trouble to inquire. But if I am right, a great point is gained. Cognizant although innocent of the murder, the Frenchman will naturally hesitate about replying to the advertisement --about demanding the Ourang-Outang. He will reason thus: --'I am innocent; I am poor; my Ourang-Outang is of great value --to one in my circumstances a fortune of itself --why should I lose it through idle apprehensions of danger? Here it is, within my grasp. It was found in the Bois de Boulogne --at a vast distance from the scene of that butchery. How can it ever be suspected that a brute beast should have done the deed? The police are at fault --they have failed to procure the slightest clew. Should they even trace the animal, it would be impossible to prove me cognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilt on account of that cognizance. Above all, I am known. The advertiser designates me as the possessor of the beast. I am not sure to what limit his knowledge may extend. Should I avoid claiming a property of so great value, which it is known that I possess, I will render the animal, at least, liable to suspicion. It is not my policy to attract attention either to myself or to the beast. I will answer the advertisement, get the Ourang-Outang, and keep it close until this matter has blown over. At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs. "Be ready," said Dupin, "with your pistols, but neither use them nor show them until at a signal from myself." The front door of the house had been left open, and the visitor had entered, without ringing, and advanced several steps upon the staircase. Now, however, he seemed to hesitate. Presently we heard him descending. Dupin was moving quickly to the door, when we again heard him coming up. He did not turn back a second time, but stepped up with decision and rapped at the door of our chamber. "Come in," said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone. A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently, --a tall, stout, and muscular-looking person, with a certain dare-devil expression of countenance, not altogether unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was more than half hidden by whisker and mustachio. He had with him a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise unarmed. He bowed awkwardly, and bade us "good evening," in French accents, which, although somewhat Neufchatelish, were still

sufficiently indicative of a Parisian origin. Sit down, my friend," said Dupin. "I suppose you have called about the Ourang-Outang. Upon my word, I almost envy you the possession of him; a remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuable animal. How old do you suppose him to be?" The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a man relieved of some intolerable burden, and then replied, in an assured tone: "I have no way of telling --but he can't be more than four or five years old. Have you got him here?" "Oh no; we had no conveniences for keeping him here. He is at a livery stable in the Rue Dubourg, just by. You can get him in the morning. Of course you are prepared to identify the property?" "To be sure I am, sir." "I shall be sorry to part with him," said Dupin. "I don't mean that you should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir," said the man. "Couldn't expect it. Am very willing to pay a reward for the finding of the animal --that is to say, any thing in reason." "Well," replied my friend, "that is all very fair, to be sure. Let me think! --what should I have? Oh! I will tell you. My reward shall be this. You shall give me all the information in your power about these murders in the Rue Morgue." Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and very quietly. Just as quietly, too, he walked toward the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. He then drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it, without the least flurry, upon the table. The sailor's face flushed up as if he were struggling with suffocation. He started to his feet and grasped his cudgel; but the next moment he fell back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the countenance of death itself. He spoke not a word. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart. "My friend," said Dupin, in a kind tone, "you are alarming yourself unnecessarily --you are indeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I pledge you the honor of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we intend you no injury. I perfectly well know that you are innocent of the atrocities in the Rue Morgue. It will not do, however, to deny that you are in some measure implicated in them. From what I have already said, you must know that I have had means of information about this matter --means of which you could never have dreamed. Now the thing stands thus. You have done nothing which you could have avoided --nothing, certainly, which renders you culpable. You were not even guilty of robbery, when you might have robbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal. You have no reason for

concealment. On the other hand, you are bound by every principle of honor to confess all you know. An innocent man is now imprisoned, charged with that crime of which you can point out the perpetrator." The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in a great measure, while Dupin uttered these words; but his original boldness of bearing was all gone. "So help me God," said he, after a brief pause, "I will tell you all I know about this affair; -but I do not expect you to believe one half I say --I would be a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am innocent, and I will make a clean breast if I die for it." What he stated was, in substance, this. He had lately made a voyage to the Indian Archipelago. A party, of which he formed one, landed at Borneo, and passed into the interior on an excursion of pleasure. Himself and a companion had captured the OurangOutang. This companion dying, the animal fell into his own exclusive possession. After great trouble, occasioned by the intractable ferocity of his captive during the home voyage, he at length succeeded in lodging it safely at his own residence in Paris, where, not to attract toward himself the unpleasant curiosity of his neighbors, he kept it carefully secluded, until such time as it should recover from a wound in the foot, received from a splinter on board ship. His ultimate design was to sell it. Returning home from some sailors' frolic on the night, or rather in the morning of the murder, he found the beast occupying his own bed-room, into which it had broken from a closet adjoining, where it had been, as was thought, securely confined. Razor in hand, and fully lathered, it was sitting before a looking-glass, attempting the operation of shaving, in which it had no doubt previously watched its master through the key-hole of the closet. Terrified at the sight of so dangerous a weapon in the possession of an animal so ferocious, and so well able to use it, the man, for some moments, was at a loss what to do. He had been accustomed, however, to quiet the creature, even in its fiercest moods, by the use of a whip, and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of it, the Ourang-Outang sprang at once through the door of the chamber, down the stairs, and thence, through a window, unfortunately open, into the street. The Frenchman followed in despair; the ape, razor still in hand, occasionally stopping to look back and gesticulate at its pursuer, until the latter had nearly come up with it. It then again made off. In this manner the chase continued for a long time. The streets were profoundly quiet, as it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. In passing down an alley in the rear of the Rue Morgue, the fugitive's attention was arrested by a light gleaming from the open window of Madame L'Espanaye's chamber, in the fourth story of her house. Rushing to the building, it perceived the lightning-rod, clambered up with inconceivable agility, grasped the shutter, which was thrown fully back against the wall, and, by its means, swung itself directly upon the headboard of the bed. The whole feat did not occupy a minute. The shutter was kicked open again by the Ourang-Outang as it entered the room. The sailor, in the meantime, was both rejoiced and perplexed. He had strong hopes of now recapturing the brute, as it could scarcely escape from the trap into which it had ventured,

except by the rod, where it might be intercepted as it came down. On the other hand, there was much cause for anxiety as to what it might do in the house. This latter reflection urged the man still to follow the fugitive. A lightning-rod is ascended without difficulty, especially by a sailor; but, when he had arrived as high as the window, which lay far to his left, his career was stopped; the most that he could accomplish was to reach over so as to obtain a glimpse of the interior of the room. At this glimpse he nearly fell from his hold through excess of horror. Now it was that those hideous shrieks arose upon the night, which had startled from slumber the inmates of the Rue Morgue. Madame L'Espanaye and her daughter, habited in their night clothes, had apparently been arranging some papers in the iron chest already mentioned, which had been wheeled into the middle of the room. It was open, and its contents lay beside it on the floor. The victims must have been sitting with their backs toward the window; and, from the time elapsing between the ingress of the beast and the screams, it seems probable that it was not immediately perceived. The flapping-to of the shutter would naturally have been attributed to the wind. As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had seized Madame L'Espanaye by the hair, (which was loose, as she had been combing it,) and was flourishing the razor about her face, in imitation of the motions of a barber. The daughter lay prostrate and motionless; she had swooned. The screams and struggles of the old lady (during which the hair was torn from her head) had the effect of changing the probably pacific purposes of the OurangOutang into those of wrath. With one determined sweep of its muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into phrenzy. Gnashing its teeth, and flashing fire from its eves, it flew upon the body of the girl, and imbedded its fearful talons in her throat, retaining its grasp until she expired. Its wandering and wild glances fell at this moment upon the head of the bed, over which the face of its master, rigid with horror, was just discernible. The fury of the beast, who no doubt bore still in mind the dreaded whip, was instantly converted into fear. Conscious of having deserved punishment, it seemed desirous of concealing its bloody deeds, and skipped about the chamber in an agony of nervous agitation; throwing down and breaking the furniture as it moved, and dragging the bed from the bedstead. In conclusion, it seized first the corpse of the daughter, and thrust it up the chimney, as it was found; then that of the old lady, which it immediately hurled through the window headlong. As the ape approached the casement with its mutilated burden, the sailor shrank aghast to the rod, and, rather gliding than clambering down it, hurried at once home --dreading the consequences of the butchery, and gladly abandoning, in his terror, all solicitude about the fate of the Ourang-Outang. The words heard by the party upon the staircase were the Frenchman's exclamations of horror and affright, commingled with the fiendish jabberings of the brute. I have scarcely anything to add. The Ourang-Outang must have escaped from the chamber, by the rod, just before the breaking of the door. It must have closed the window as it passed through it. It was subsequently caught by the owner himself, who obtained for it a very large sum at the Jardin des Plantes. Le Bon was instantly released, upon our narration of the circumstances (with some comments from Dupin) at the bureau of the Prefect of Police. This functionary, however well disposed to my friend, could not altogether conceal his

chagrin at the turn which affairs had taken, and was fain to indulge in a sarcasm or two, about the propriety of every person minding his own business. "Let them talk," said Dupin, who had not thought it necessary to reply. "Let him discourse; it will ease his conscience. I am satisfied with having defeated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, that he failed in the solution of this mystery, is by no means that matter for wonder which he supposes it; for, in truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhat too cunning to be profound. In his wisdom is no stamen. It is all head and no body, like the pictures of the Goddess Laverna, --or, at best, all head and shoulders, like a codfish. But he is a good creature after all. I like him especially for one master stroke of cant, by which he has attained his reputation for ingenuity. I mean the way he has 'de nier ce qui est, et d'expliquer ce qui n'est pas.'"* * Rousseau, Nouvelle Heloise.

LOS CRMENES DE LA RUE MORGUE << 01 >>(02)

Las condiciones mentales que suelen considerarse como analticas son, en s mismas, poco susceptibles de anlisis. Las consideramos tan slo por sus efectos. De ellas sabemos, entre otras cosas, que son siempre, para el que las posee, cuando se poseen en grado extraordinario, una fuente de vivsimos goces. Del mismo modo que el hombre fuerte disfruta con su habilidad fsica, deleitndose en ciertos ejercicios que ponen sus msculos en accin, el analista goza con esa actividad intelectual que se ejerce en el hecho de desentraar. Consigue satisfaccin hasta de las ms triviales ocupaciones que ponen en juego su talento. Se desvive por los enigmas, acertijos y jeroglficos, y en cada una de las soluciones muestra un sentido de agudeza que parece al vulgo una penetracin sobrenatural. Los resultados, obtenidos por un solo espritu y la esencia del mtodo, adquieren realmente la apariencia total de una intuicin. Esta facultad de resolucin est, posiblemente, muy fortalecida por los estudios matemticos, y especialmente por esa importantsima rama de ellos que, impropiamente y slo teniendo en cuenta sus operaciones previas, ha sido llamada par excellence anlisis. Y, no obstante, calcular no es intrnsecamente analizar. Un jugador de ajedrez, por ejemplo, lleva a cabo lo uno sin esforzarse en lo otro. De esto se deduce que el juego de ajedrez, en sus efectos sobre el carcter mental, no est lo suficientemente comprendido. Yo no voy ahora a escribir un tratado, sino que prologo nicamente un relato muy singular, con observaciones efectuadas a la ligera. Aprovechar, por tanto, esta ocasin para asegurar que las facultades ms importantes de la inteligencia reflexiva trabajan con mayor decisin y provecho en el sencillo juego de damas que en toda esa frivolidad primorosa del ajedrez. En este ltimo, donde las piezas tienen distintos y bizarres movimientos, con diversos y variables valores, lo que tan slo es complicado, se toma equivocadamente error muy comn por profundo. La atencin, aqu, es poderosamente puesta en juego. Si flaquea un solo instante, se comete un descuido, cuyos resultados implican prdida o derrota. Como quiera que los movimientos posibles no son solamente variados, sino complicados, las posibilidades de estos descuidos se multiplican; de cada diez casos, nueve triunfa el jugador ms capaz de concentracin y no el ms perspicaz. En el juego de damas, por el contrario, donde los movimientos son nicos y de muy poca variacin, las posibilidades de descuido son menores, y como la atencin queda relativamente distrada, las ventajas que consigue cada una de las partes se logran por una perspicacia superior. Para ser menos abstractos supongamos, por ejemplo, un juego de damas cuyas piezas se han reducido a cuatro reinas y donde no es posible el descuido. Evidentemente, en este caso la victoria hallndose los jugadores en igualdad de condiciones puede decidirse en virtud de un movimiento recherche resultante de un determinado esfuerzo de la inteligencia. Privado de los recursos ordinarios, el analista consigue penetrar en el espritu de su contrario; por tanto, se identifica con l, y a menudo descubre de una ojeada el nico medio a veces, en realidad, absurdamente sencillo que puede inducirle a error o llevarlo a un clculo equivocado.

Desde hace largo tiempo se conoce el whist por su influencia sobre la facultad calculadora, y hombres de gran inteligencia han encontrado en l un goce aparentemente inexplicable, mientras abandonaban el ajedrez como una frivolidad. No hay duda de que no existe ningn juego semejante que haga trabajar tanto la facultad analtica. El mejor jugador de ajedrez del mundo slo puede ser poco ms que el mejor jugador de ajedrez; pero la habilidad en el whist implica ya capacidad para el triunfo en todas las dems importantes empresas en las que la inteligencia se enfrenta con la inteligencia. Cuando digo habilidad, me refiero a esa perfeccin en el juego que lleva consigo una comprensin de todas las fuentes de donde se deriva una legtima ventaja. Estas fuentes no slo son diversas, sino tambin multiformes. Se hallan frecuentemente en lo ms recndito del pensamiento, y son por entero inaccesibles para las inteligencias ordinarias. Observar atentamente es recordar distintamente. Y desde este punto de vista, el jugador de ajedrez capaz de intensa concentracin jugar muy bien al whist, puesto que las reglas de Hoyle, basadas en el puro mecanismo del juego, son suficientes y, por lo general, comprensibles. Por esto, el poseer una buena memoria y jugar de acuerdo con el libro son, por lo comn, puntos considerados como la suma total del jugar excelentemente. Pero en los casos que se hallan fuera de los lmites de la pura regla es donde se evidencia el talento del analista. En silencio, realiza una porcin de observaciones y deducciones. Posiblemente, sus compaeros harn otro tanto, y la diferencia en la extensin de la informacin obtenido no se basar tanto en la validez de la deduccin como en la calidad de la observacin. Lo importante es saber lo que debe ser observado. Nuestro jugador no se reduce nicamente al juego, y aunque ste sea el objeto de su atencin, habr de prescindir de determinadas deducciones originadas al considerar objetos extraos al juego. Examina la fisonoma de su compaero, y la compara cuidadosamente con la de cada uno de sus contrarios. Se fija en el modo de distribuir las cartas a cada mano, con frecuencia calculando triunfo por triunfo y tanto por tanto observando las miradas de los jugadores a su juego. Se da cuenta de cada una de las variaciones de los rostros a medida que avanza el juego, recogiendo gran nmero de ideas por las diferencias que observa en las distintas expresiones de seguridad, sorpresa, triunfo o desagrado. En la manera de recoger una baza juzga si la misma persona podr hacer la que sigue. Reconoce la carta jugada en el ademn con que se deja sobre la mesa. Una palabra casual o involuntaria; la forma accidental con que cae o se vuelve una carta, con la ansiedad o la indiferencia que acompaan la accin de evitar que sea vista; la cuenta de las bazas y el orden de su colocacin; la perplejidad, la duda, el entusiasmo o el temor, todo ello facilita a su aparentemente intuitiva percepcin indicaciones del verdadero estado de cosas. Cuando se han dado las dos o tres primeras vueltas, conoce completamente los juegos de cada uno, y desde aquel momento echa sus cartas con tal absoluto dominio de propsitos como si el resto de los jugadores las tuvieran vueltas hacia l.-*-*-*-*-* El poder analtico no debe confundirse con el simple ingenio, porque mientras el analista es necesariamente ingenioso, el hombre ingenioso est con frecuencia notablemente incapacitado para el anlisis. La facultad constructiva o de combinacin con que por lo general se manifiesta el ingenio, y a la que los frenlogos, equivocadamente, a mi parecer, asignan un rgano aparte, suponiendo que se trata de una facultad primordial, se ha visto tan a menudo en individuos cuya inteligencia bordeaba, por otra parte, la idiotez, que ha atrado la atencin general de los escritores de temas morales. Entre el ingenio y la aptitud analtica hay una diferencia mucho mayor, en efecto, que entre la fantasa y la imaginacin, aunque de un carcter rigurosamente anlogo. En realidad, se observar fcilmente que el

hombre ingenioso es siempre fantstico, mientras que el verdadero imaginativo nunca deja de ser analtico. El relato que sigue a continuacin podr servir en cierto modo al lector para ilustrarle en una interpretacin de las proposiciones que acabo de anticipar Encontrndome en Pars durante la primavera y parte del verano de 18..., conoc all a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. Perteneca este joven caballero a una excelente, o, mejor dicho, ilustre familia, pero por una serie de adversos sucesos se haba quedado reducido a tal pobreza, que sucumbi la energa de su carcter y renunci a sus ambiciones mundanas, lo mismo que a procurar el restablecimiento de su fortuna. Con el beneplcito de sus acreedores, qued todava en posesin de un pequeo resto de su patrimonio, y con la renta que ste le produca encontr el medio, gracias a una economa rigurosa, de subvenir a las necesidades de su vida, sin preocuparse en absoluto por lo ms superfluo. En realidad, su nico lujo eran los libros, y en Pars stos son fciles de adquirir. Nuestro conocimiento tuvo efecto en una oscura biblioteca de la rue Montmartre, donde nos puso en estrecha intimidad la coincidencia de buscar los dos un muy raro y al mismo tiempo notable volumen. Nos vimos con frecuencia. Yo me haba interesado vivamente por la sencilla historia de su familia, que me cont detalladamente con toda la ingenuidad con que un francs se explaya en sus confidencias cuando habla de s mismo. Por otra parte, me admiraba el nmero de sus lecturas, y, sobre todo, me llegaba al alma el vehemente afn y la viva frescura de su imaginacin. La ndole de las investigaciones que me ocupaban entonces en Pars me hicieron comprender que la amistad de un hombre semejante era para m un inapreciable tesoro. Con esta idea, me confi francamente a l. Por ltimo, convinimos en que viviramos juntos todo el tiempo que durase mi permanencia en la ciudad, y como mis asuntos econmicos se desenvolvan menos embarazosamente que los suyos, me fue permitido participar en los gastos de alquiler, y amueblar, de acuerdo con el carcter algo fantstico y melanclico de nuestro comn temperamento, una vieja y grotesca casa abandonada haca ya mucho tiempo, en virtud de ciertas supersticiones que no quisimos averiguar. Lo cierto es que la casa se estremeca como si fuera a hundirse en un retirado y desolado rincn del faubourg Saint-Germain. Si hubiera sido conocida por la gente la rutina de nuestra vida en aquel lugar, nos hubieran tomado por locos, aunque de especie inofensiva. Nuestra reclusin era completa. No recibamos visita alguna. En realidad, el lugar de nuestro retiro era un secreto guardado cuidadosamente para mis antiguos camaradas, y ya haca mucho tiempo que Dupin haba cesado de frecuentar o hacerse visible en Pars. Vivamos slo para nosotros. Una rareza del carcter de mi amigo no s cmo calificarla de otro modo consista en estar enamorado de la noche. Pero con esta bizarrerie, como con todas las dems suyas, condescenda yo tranquilamente, y me entregaba a sus singulares caprichos con un perfecto abandon. No siempre poda estar con nosotros la negra divinidad, pero s podamos falsear su presencia. En cuanto la maana alboreaba, cerrbamos inmediatamente los macizos postigos de nuestra vieja casa y encendamos un par de bujas intensamente perfumadas y que slo daban un lvido y dbil resplandor, bajo el cual entregbamos nuestras almas a sus ensueos, leamos, escribamos o conversbamos, hasta que el reloj nos adverta la llegada

de la verdadera oscuridad. Salamos entonces cogidos del brazo a pasear por las calles, continuando la conversacin del da y rondando por doquier hasta muy tarde, buscando a travs de las estrafalarias luces y sombras de la populosa ciudad esas innumerables excitaciones mentales que no puede procurar la tranquila observacin. En circunstancias tales, yo no poda menos de notar y admirar en Dupin (aunque ya, por la rica imaginacin de que estaba dotado, me senta preparado a esperarlo) un talento particularmente analtico. Por otra parte, pareca deleitarse intensamente en ejercerlo (si no exactamente en desplegarlo), y no vacilaba en confesar el placer que ello le produca. Se vanagloriaba ante m burlonamente de que muchos hombres, para l, llevaban ventanas en el pecho, y acostumbraba a apoyar tales afirmaciones usando de pruebas muy sorprendentes y directas de su ntimo conocimiento de m. En tales momentos, sus maneras eran glaciales y abstradas. Se quedaban sus ojos sin expresin, mientras su voz, por lo general ricamente atenorada, se elevaba hasta un timbre atiplado, que hubiera parecido petulante de no ser por la ponderada y completa claridad de su pronunciacin. A menudo, vindolo en tales disposiciones de nimo, meditaba yo acerca de la antigua filosofa del Alma Doble, y me diverta la idea de un doble Dupin: el creador y el analtico. Por cuanto acabo de decir, no hay que creer que estoy contando algn misterio o escribiendo una novela. Mis observaciones a propsito de este francs no son ms que el resultado de una inteligencia hiperestesiada o tal vez enferma. Un ejemplo dar mejor idea de la naturaleza de sus observaciones durante la poca a que aludo. bamos una noche paseando por una calle larga y sucia, cercana al Palais Royal. Al parecer, cada uno de nosotros se haba sumido en sus propios pensamientos, y por lo menos durante quince minutos ninguno pronunci una sola slaba. De pronto, Dupin rompi el silencio con estas palabras: En realidad, ese muchacho es demasiado pequeo y estara mejor en el Thtre des Variets. No cabe duda repliqu, sin fijarme en lo que deca y sin observar en aquel momento, tan absorto haba estado en mis reflexiones, el modo extraordinario con que mi interlocutor haba hecho coincidir sus palabras con mis meditaciones. Un momento despus me repuse y experiment un profundo asombro. Dupin dije gravemente, lo que ha sucedido excede mi comprensin. No vacilo en manifestar que estoy asombrado y que apenas puedo dar crdito a lo que he odo. Cmo es posible que haya usted podido adivinar que estaba pensando en... ? Diciendo esto, me interrump para asegurarme, ya sin ninguna dada, de que l saba realmente en quin pensaba. En Chantilly? pregunt. Por qu se ha interrumpido? Usted pensaba que su escasa estatura no era la apropiada para dedicarse a la tragedia.

Esto era precisamente lo que haba constituido el tema de mis reflexiones. Chantilly era un ex zapatero remendn de la rue Saint Denis que, apasionado por el teatro, haba representado el papel de Jeries en la tragedia de Crebillon de este ttulo. Pero sus esfuerzos haban provocado la burla del pblico. Dgame usted, por Dios exclam, por qu mtodo, si es que hay alguno, ha penetrado usted en mi alma en este caso. Realmente, estaba yo mucho ms asombrado de lo que hubiese querido confesar. Ha sido el vendedor de frutas contest mi amigo quien le ha llevado a usted a la conclusin de que el remendn de suelas no tiene la suficiente estatura para representar el papel de Jerjes et id genus omne. El vendedor de frutas? Me asombra usted. No conozco a ninguno. S; es ese hombre con quien ha tropezado usted al entrar en esta calle, har unos quince minutos. Record entonces que, en efecto, un vendedor de frutas, que llevaba sobre la cabeza una gran banasta de manzanas, estuvo a punto de hacerme caer, sin pretenderlo, cuando pasbamos de la calle C... a la calleja en que ahora nos encontrbamos. Pero yo no poda comprender la relacin de este hecho con Chantilly. No haba por qu suponer charlatanerie alguna en Dupin. Se lo explicar me dijo. Para que pueda usted darse cuenta de todo claramente, vamos a repasar primero en sentido inverso el curso de sus meditaciones desde este instante en que le estoy hablando hasta el de su rencontre con el vendedor de frutas. En sentido inverso, los ms importantes eslabones de la cadena se suceden de esta forma: Chantilly, Orin, doctor Nichols, Epicuro, estereotoma de los adoquines y el vendedor de frutas. Existen pocas personas que no se hayan entretenido, en cualquier momento de su vida, en recorrer en sentido inverso las etapas por las cuales han sido conseguidas ciertas conclusiones de su inteligencia. Frecuentemente es una ocupacin llena de inters, y el que la prueba por primera vez se asombra de la aparente distancia ilimitada y de la falta de ilacin que parece median desde el punto de partida hasta la meta final. Jzguese, pues, cul no sera mi asombro cuando escuch lo que el francs acababa de decir, y no pude menos de reconocer que haba dicho la verdad. Continu despus de este modo: Si mal no recuerdo, en el momento en que bamos a dejar la calle C... hablbamos de caballos. ste era el ltimo tema que discutimos. Al entrar en esta calle, un vendedor de frutas que llevaba una gran banasta sobre la cabeza, pas velozmente ante nosotros y lo empuj a usted contra un montn de adoquines, en un lugar donde la calzada se encuentra en reparacin. Usted puso el pie sobre una de las piedras sueltas, resbal y se torci levemente el tobillo. Aparent usted cierto fastidio o mal humor, murmur unas palabras,

se volvi para observar el montn de adoquines y continu luego caminando en silencio. Yo no prestaba particular atencin a lo que usted haca, pero, desde hace mucho tiempo, la observacin se ha convertido para m en una especie de necesidad. Caminaba usted con los ojos fijos en el suelo, mirando, con malhumorada expresin, los baches y rodadas del empedrado, por lo que deduje que continuaba usted pensando todava en las piedras. Procedi as hasta que llegamos a la callejuela llamada Lamartine, que, a modo de prueba, ha sido pavimentada con tarugos sobrepuestos y acoplados slidamente. Al entrar en ella, su rostro se ilumin, y me di cuenta de que se movan sus labios. Por este movimiento no me fue posible dudar que pronunciaba usted la palabra estereotoma, trmino que tan afectadamente se aplica a esta especie de pavimentacin. Yo estaba seguro de que no poda usted pronunciar para s la palabra estereotoma sin que esto le llevara a pensar en los tomos, y, por consiguiente, en las teoras de Epicuro. Y como quiera que no hace mucho rato discutamos este tema, le hice notar a usted de qu modo tan singular, y sin que ello haya sido muy notado, las vagas conjeturas de ese noble griego han encontrado en la reciente cosmogona nebular su confirmacin. He comprendido por esto que no poda usted resistir a la tentacin de levantar sus ojos a la gran nobula de Orin, y con toda seguridad he esperado que usted lo hiciera. En efecto, usted ha mirado a lo alto, y he adquirido entonces la certeza de haber seguido correctamente el hilo de sus pensamientos. Ahora bien, en la amarga tirada sobre Chantilly, publicada ayer en el Muse, el escritor satrico, haciendo mortificantes alusiones al cambio de nombre del zapatero al calzarse el coturno, citaba un verso latino del que hemos hablado nosotros con frecuencia. Me refiero a ste: Perdidit antiquum litera prima sonum*. Yo le haba dicho a usted que este verso se relacionaba con la palabra Orin, que en un principio se escriba Urin. Adems, por determinadas discusiones un tanto apasionadas que tuvimos acerca de mi interpretacin, tuve la seguridad de que usted no la habra olvidado. Por tanto, era evidente que asociara usted las dos ideas: Orin y Chantilly, y esto lo he comprendido por la forma de la sonrisa que he visto en sus labios. Ha pensado usted, pues, en aquella inmolacin del pobre zapatero. Hasta ese momento, usted haba caminado con el cuerpo encorvado, pero a partir de entonces se irgui usted, recobrando toda su estatura. Este movimiento me ha confirmado que pensaba usted en la diminuta figura de Chantilly, y ha sido entonces cuando he interrumpido sus meditaciones para observar que, por tratarse de un hombre de baja estatura, estara mejor Chantilly en el Thtre des Variets.

Poco despus de esta conversacin hojebamos una edicin de la tarde de la Gazette des Tribunaux cuando llamaron nuestra atencin los siguientes titulares:

EXTRAORDINARIOS CRMENES

Esta madrugada, alrededor de las tres, los habitantes del quartier Saint-Roch fueron despertados por una serie de espantosos gritos que parecan proceder del cuarto piso de una casa de la rue Morgue, ocupada, segn se dice, por una tal Madame L'Espanaye y su hija Mademoiselle Camille L'Espanaye. Despus de algn tiempo empleado en infructuosos esfuerzos para poder penetrar buenamente en la casa, se forz la puerta de entrada con una palanca de hierro, y entraron ocho o diez vecinos acompaados de dos gendarmes. En ese momento cesaron los gritos; pero en cuanto aquellas personas llegaron apresuradamente al primer rellano de la escalera, se distinguieron dos o ms voces speras que parecan disputar violentamente y proceder de la parte alta de la casa. Cuando la gente lleg al segundo rellano, cesaron tambin aquellos rumores y todo permaneci en absoluto silencio. Los vecinos recorrieron todas las habitaciones precipitadamente. Al llegar, por ltimo, a una gran sala situada en la parte posterior del cuarto piso, cuya puerta hubo de ser forzada, por estar cerrada interiormente con llave, se ofreci a los circunstantes un espectculo que sobrecogi su nimo, no slo de horror, sino de asombro. Se hallaba la habitacin en violento desorden, rotos los muebles y diseminados en todas direcciones. No quedaba ms lecho que la armadura de una cama, cuyas partes haban sido arrancadas y tiradas por el suelo. Sobre una silla se encontr una navaja barbera manchada de sangre. Haba en la chimenea dos o tres largos y abundantes mechones de pelo cano, empapados en sangre y que parecan haber sido arrancados de raz. En el suelo se encontraron cuatro napoleones, un zarcillo adornado con un topacio, tres grandes cucharas de plata, tres cucharillas de metal d,Alger y dos sacos conteniendo, aproximadamente, cuatro mil francos en oro. En un rincn se hallaron los cajones de una cmoda abiertos, y, al parecer, saqueados, aunque quedaban en ellos algunas cosas. Se encontr tambin un cofrecillo de hierro bajo la cama, no bajo su armadura. Se hallaba abierto, y la cerradura contena an la llave. En el cofre no se encontraron ms que unas cuantas cartas viejas y otros papeles sin importancia. No se encontr rastro alguno de Madame L'Espanaye; pero como quiera que se notase una anormal cantidad de holln en el hogar, se efectu un reconocimiento de la chimenea, y horroriza decirlo se extrajo de ella el cuerpo de su hija, que estaba colocado cabeza abajo y que haba sido introducido por la estrecha abertura hasta una altura considerable. El cuerpo estaba todava caliente. Al examinarlo se comprobaron en l numerosas escoriaciones ocasionadas sin duda por la violencia con que el cuerpo haba sido metido all y por el esfuerzo que hubo de emplearse para sacarlo. En su rostro se vean profundos araazos, y en la garganta, crdenas magulladuras y hondas huellas producidas por las uas, como si la muerte se hubiera verificado por estrangulacin. Despus de un minucioso examen efectuado en todas las habitaciones, sin que se lograra ningn nuevo descubrimiento, los presentes se dirigieron a un pequeo patio pavimentado, situado en la parte posterior del edificio, donde hallaron el cadver de la anciana seora, con el cuello cortado de tal modo, que la cabeza se desprendi del tronco al levantar el cuerpo. Tanto ste como la cabeza estaban tan horriblemente mutilados, que apenas conservaban apariencia humana. Que sepamos, no se ha obtenido hasta el momento el menor indicio que permita aclarar este horrible misterio.

El diario del da siguiente daba algunos nuevos pormenores: LA TRAGEDIA DE LA RUE MORGUE Gran nmero de personas han sido interrogadas con respecto a tan extraordinario y horrible affaire (la palabra affaire no tiene todava en Francia el poco significado que se le da entre nosotros), pero nada ha podido deducirse que arroje alguna luz sobre ello. Damos a continuacin todas las declaraciones ms importantes que se han obtenido: Pauline Dubourg, lavandera, declara haber conocido desde hace tres aos a las vctimas y haber lavado para ellas durante todo este tiempo. Tanto la madre como la hija parecan vivir en buena armona y profesarse mutuamente un gran cario. Pagaban con puntualidad. Nada se sabe acerca de su gnero de vida y medios de existencia. Supone que Madame L'Espanaye deca la buenaventura para ganarse el sustento. Tena fama de poseer algn dinero escondido. Nunca encontr a otras personas en la casa cuando la llamaban para recoger la ropa, ni cuando la devolva. Estaba absolutamente segura de que las seoras no tenan servidumbre alguna. Salvo el cuarto piso, no pareca que hubiera muebles en ninguna parte de la casa. Pierre Moreau, estanquero, declara que es el habitual proveedor de tabaco y de rap de Madame L'Espanaye desde hace cuatros aos. Naci en su vecindad y ha vivido siempre all. Haca ms de seis aos que la muerta y su hija vivan en la casa donde fueron encontrados sus cadveres. Anteriormente a su estada, el piso haba sido ocupado por un joyero, que alquilaba a su vez las habitaciones interiores a distintas personas. La casa era propiedad de Madame L'Espanaye. Descontenta por los abusos de su inquilino, se haba trasladado al inmueble de su propiedad, negndose a alquilar ninguna parte de l. La buena seora chocheaba a causa de la edad. El testigo haba visto a su hija unas cinco o seis veces durante los seis aos. Las dos llevaban una vida muy retirada, y era fama que tenan dinero. Entre los vecinos haba odo decir que Madame L'Espanaye deca la buenaventura, pero l no lo crea. Nunca haba visto atravesar la puerta a nadie, excepto a la seora y a su hija, una o dos voces a un recadero y ocho o diez a un mdico. En esta misma forma declararon varios vecinos, pero de ninguno de ellos se dice que frecuentaran la casa. Tampoco se sabe que la seora y su hija tuvieran parientes vivos. Raramente estaban abiertos los postigos de los balcones de la fachada principal. Los de la parte trasera estaban siempre cerrados, a excepcin de las ventanas de la gran sala posterior del cuarto piso. La casa era una finca excelente y no muy vieja. Isidoro Muset, gendarme, declara haber sido llamado a la casa a las tres de la madrugada, y dice que hall ante la puerta principal a unas veinte o treinta personas que procuraban entrar en el edificio. Con una bayoneta, y no con una barra de hierro, pudo, por fin, forzar la puerta. No hall grandes dificultades en abrirla, porque era de dos hojas y careca de cerrojo y pasador en su parte alta. Hasta que la puerta fue forzada, continuaron los gritos, pero luego cesaron repentinamente. Daban la sensacin de ser alaridos de una o varias personas vctimas de una gran angustia. Eran fuertes y prolongados, y no gritos breves y rpidos. El testigo subi rpidamente los escalones. Al llegar al primer rellano, oy dos voces que disputaban acremente. Una de stas era spera, y la otra, aguda, una voz muy

extraa. De la primera pudo distinguir algunas palabras, y le pareci francs el que las haba pronunciado. Pero, evidentemente, no era voz de mujer. Distingui claramente las palabras "sacre" y "diable". La aguda voz perteneca a un extranjero, pero el declarante no puede asegurar si se trataba de hombre o mujer. No pudo distinguir lo que decan, pero supone que hablasen espaol. El testigo descubri el estado de la casa y de los cadveres como fue descrito ayer por nosotros. Henri Duval, vecino, y de oficio platero, declara que l formaba parte del grupo que entr primeramente en la casa. En trminos generales, corrobora la declaracin de Muset. En cuanto se abrieron paso, forzando la puerta, la cerraron de nuevo, con objeto de contener a la muchedumbre que se haba reunido a pesar de la hora. Este opina que la voz aguda sea la de un italiano, y est seguro de que no era la de un francs. No conoce el italiano. No pudo distinguir las palabras, pero, por la entonacin del que hablaba, est convencido de que era un italiano. Conoca a Madame L'Espanaye y a su hija. Con las dos haba conversado con frecuencia. Estaba seguro de que la voz no corresponda a ninguna de las dos mujeres. Odenheimer, restaurateur. Voluntariamente, el testigo se ofreci a declarar. Como no hablaba francs, fue interrogado hacindose uso de un intrprete. Es natural de msterdam. Pasaba por delante de la casa en el momento en que se oyeron los gritos. Se detuvo durante unos minutos, diez, probablemente. Eran fuertes y prolongados, y producan horror y angustia. Fue uno de los que entraron en la casa. Corrobora las declaraciones anteriores en todos sus detalles, excepto uno: est seguro de que la voz aguda era la de un hombre, la de un francs. No pudo distinguir claramente las palabras que haba pronunciado. Estaban dichas en alta voz y rpidamente, con cierta desigualdad, pronunciadas, segn supona, con miedo y con ira al mismo tiempo. La voz era spera. Realmente, no puede asegurarse que fuese una voz aguda. La voz grave dijo varias veces: "Sacr", "diable", y una sola "Man Dieu". Jules Mignaud, banquero, de la casa "Mignaud et Fils", de la rue Deloraie. Es el mayor de los Mignaud. Madame L'Espanaye tena algunos intereses. Haba abierto una cuenta corriente en su casa de banca en la primavera del ao... (ocho aos antes). Con frecuencia haba ingresado pequeas cantidades. No retir ninguna hasta tres das antes de su muerte. La retir personalmente, y la suma ascenda a cuatro mil francos. La cantidad fue pagada en oro, y se encarg a un dependiente que la llevara a su casa. Adolphe Le Bon, dependiente de la "Banca Mignaud et Fils", declara que en el da de autos, al medioda, acompa a Madame L'Espanaye a su domicilio con los cuatro mil francos, distribuidos en dos pequeos talegos. Al abrirse la puerta, apareci Mademoiselle L'Espanaye sta cogi uno de los saquitos, y la anciana seora el otro. Entonces, l salud y se fue. En aquellos momentos no haba nadie en la calle. Era una calle apartada, muy solitaria. William Bird, sastre, declara que fue uno de los que entraron en la casa. Es ingls. Ha vivido dos aos en Pars. Fue uno de los primeros que subieron por la escalera. Oy las voces que disputaban. La gruesa era de un francs. Pudo or algunas palabras, pero ahora no puede recordarlas todas. Oy claramente "sacr" y "Man Dieu". Por un momento se produjo un rumor, como si varias personas peleasen. Ruido de ria y forcejeo. La voz

aguda era muy fuerte, ms que la grave. Est seguro de que no se trataba de la voz de ningn ingls, sino ms bien la de un alemn. Poda haber sido la de una mujer. No entiende el alemn. Cuatro de los testigos mencionados arriba, nuevamente interrogados, declararon que la puerta de la habitacin en que fue encontrado el cuerpo de Mademoiselle L'Espanaye se hallaba cerrada por dentro cuando el grupo lleg a ella. Todo se hallaba en un silencio absoluto. No se oan ni gemidos ni ruidos de ninguna especie. Al forzar la puerta, no se vio a nadie. Tanto las ventanas de la parte posterior como las de la fachada estaban cerradas y aseguradas fuertemente por dentro con sus cerrojos respectivos. Entre las dos salas se hallaba tambin una puerta de comunicacin, que estaba cerrada, pero no con llave. La puerta que conduca de la habitacin delantera al pasillo estaba cerrada por dentro con llave. Una pequea estancia de la parte delantera del cuarto piso, a la entrada del pasillo, estaba abierta tambin, puesto que tena la puerta entornada. En esta sala se hacinaban camas viejas, cofres y objetos de esta especie. No qued una sola pulgada de la casa sin que hubiese sido registrada cuidadosamente. Se orden que tanto por arriba como por abajo se introdujeran deshollinadores por las chimeneas. La casa constaba de cuatro pisos, con buhardillas (mansardas). En el techo se hallaba, fuertemente asegurado, un escotilln, y pareca no haber sido abierto durante muchos aos. Por lo que respecta al intervalo de tiempo transcurrido entre las voces que disputaban y el acto de forzar la puerta del piso, las afirmaciones de los testigos difieren bastante. Unos hablan de tres minutos, y otros amplan este tiempo a cinco. Cost mucho forzar la puerta. Alfonso Garca, empresario de pompas fnebres, declara que habita en la rue Morgue, y que es espaol. Tambin formaba parte del grupo que entr en la casa. No subi la escalera, porque es muy nervioso y tema los efectos que pudiera producirle la emocin. Oy las voces que disputaban. La grave era de un francs. No pudo distinguir lo que decan, y est seguro de que la voz aguda era de un ingls. No entiende este idioma, pero se basa en la entonacin. Alberto Montan, confitero declara haber sido uno de los primeros en subir la escalera. Oy las voces aludidas. La grave era de francs. Pudo distinguir varias palabras. Pareca como si este individuo reconviniera a otro. En cambio, no pudo comprender nada de la voz aguda. Hablaba rpidamente y de forma entrecortada. Supone que esta voz fuera la de un ruso. Corrobora tambin las declaraciones generales. Es italiano. No ha hablado nunca con ningn ruso. Interrogados de nuevo algunos testigos, certificaron que las chimeneas de todas las habitaciones del cuarto piso eran demasiado estrechas para que permitieran el paso de una persona. Cuando hablaron de "deshollinadores", se refirieron a las escobillas cilndricas que con ese objeto usan los limpiachimeneas. Las escobillas fueron pasadas de arriba abajo por todos los tubos de la casa. En la parte posterior de sta no hay paso alguno por donde alguien hubiese podido bajar mientras el grupo suba las escaleras. El cuerpo de Mademoiselle L'Espanaye estaba tan fuertemente introducido en la chimenea, que no pudo ser extrado de all sino con la ayuda de cinco hombres.

Paul Dumas, mdico, declara que fue llamado hacia el amanecer para examinar los cadveres. Yacan entonces los dos sobre las correas de la armadura de la cama, en la habitacin donde fue encontrada Mademoiselle L'Espanaye. El cuerpo de la joven estaba muy magullado y lleno de excoriaciones. Se explican suficientemente estas circunstancias por haber sido empujado hacia arriba en la chimenea. Sobre todo, la garganta presentaba grandes excoriaciones. Tena tambin profundos araazos bajo la barbilla, al lado de una serie de lvidas manchas que eran, evidentemente, impresiones de dedos. El rostro se hallaba horriblemente descolorido, y los ojos fuera de sus rbitas. La lengua haba sido mordida y seccionada parcialmente. Sobre el estmago se descubri una gran magulladura, producida, segn se supone, por la presin de una rodilla. Segn Monsieur Dumas, Mademoiselle L'Espanaye haba sido estrangulada por alguna persona o personas desconocidas. El cuerpo de su madre estaba horriblemente mutilado. Todos los huesos de la pierna derecha y del brazo estaban, poco o mucho, quebrantados. La tibia izquierda, igual que las costillas del mismo lado, estaban hechas astillas. Tena todo el cuerpo con espantosas magulladuras y descolorido. Es imposible certificar cmo fueron producidas aquellas heridas. Tal vez un pesado garrote de madera, o una gran barra de hierro alguna silla, o una herramienta ancha, pesada y roma, podra haber producido resultados semejantes. Pero siempre que hubieran sido manejados por un hombre muy fuerte. Ninguna mujer podra haber causado aquellos golpes con clase alguna de arma. Cuando el testigo la vio, la cabeza de la muerta estaba totalmente separada del cuerpo y, adems, destrozada. Evidentemente, la garganta haba sido seccionada con un instrumento afiladsimo, probablemente una navaja barbera. Alexandre Etienne, cirujano, declara haber sido llamado al mismo tiempo que el doctor Dumas, para examinar los cuerpos. Corrobor la declaracin y las opiniones de ste. No han podido obtenerse ms pormenores importantes en otros interrogatorios. Un crimen tan extrao y tan complicado en todos sus aspectos no haba sido cometido jams en Pars, en el caso de que se trate realmente de un crimen. La Polica carece totalmente de rastro, circunstancia rarsima en asuntos de tal naturaleza. Puede asegurarse, pues, que no existe la menor pista. En la edicin de la tarde, afirmaba el peridico que reinaba todava gran excitacin en el quartier Saint-Roch; que, de nuevo, se haban investigado cuidadosamente las circunstancias del crimen, pero que no se haba obtenido ningn resultado. A ltima hora anunciaba una noticia que Adolphe Le Bon haba sido detenido y encarcelado; pero ninguna de las circunstancias ya expuestas pareca acusarle. Dupin demostr estar particularmente interesado en el desarrollo de aquel asunto; cuando menos, as lo deduca yo por su conducta, porque no haca ningn comentario. Tan slo despus de haber sido encarcelado Le Bon me pregunt mi parecer sobre aquellos asesinatos. Yo no pude expresarle sino mi conformidad con todo el pblico parisiense, considerando aquel crimen como un misterio insoluble. No acertaba a ver el modo en que pudiera darse con el asesino.

Por interrogatorios tan superficiales no podemos juzgar nada con respecto al modo de encontrarlo dijo Dupin. La Polica de Pars, tan elogiada por su perspicacia, es astuta, pero nada ms. No hay ms mtodo en sus diligencias que el que las circunstancias sugieren. Exhiben siempre las medidas tomadas, pero con frecuencia ocurre que son tan poco apropiadas a los fines propuestos que nos hacen pensar en Monsieur Jourdain pidiendo su robede-chambre, pour mieux entendre la musique. A veces no dejan de ser sorprendentes los resultados obtenidos. Pero, en su mayor parte, se consiguen por mera insistencia y actividad. Cuando resultan ineficaces tales procedimientos, fallan todos sus planes. Vidocq, por ejemplo, era un excelente adivinador y un hombre perseverante; pero como su inteligencia careca de educacin, se equivocaba con frecuencia por la misma intensidad de sus investigaciones. Disminua el poder de su visin por mirar el objeto tan de cerca. Era capaz de ver, probablemente, una o dos circunstancias con una poco corriente claridad; pero al hacerlo perda necesariamente la visin total del asunto. Esto puede decirse que es el defecto de ser demasiado profundo. La verdad no est siempre en el fondo de un pozo. En realidad, yo pienso que, en cuanto a lo que ms importa conocer, es invariablemente superficial. La profundidad se encuentra en los valles donde la buscamos, pero no en las cumbres de las montaas, que es donde la vemos. Las variedades y orgenes de esta especie de error tienen un magnfico ejemplo en la contemplacin de los cuerpos celestes. Dirigir a una estrella una rpida ojeada, examinarla oblicuamente, volviendo hacia ella las partes exteriores de la retina (que son ms sensibles a las dbiles impresiones de la luz que las anteriores), es contemplar la estrella distintamente, obtener la ms exacta apreciacin de su brillo, brillo que se oscurece a medida que volvemos nuestra visin de lleno haca ella. En el ltimo caso, caen en los ojos mayor nmero de rayos, pero en el primero se obtiene una receptibilidad ms afinada. Con una extrema profundidad, embrollamos y debilitamos el pensamiento, y aun lo confundimos. Podemos, incluso, lograr que Venus se desvanezca del firmamento si le dirigimos una atencin demasiado sostenida, demasiado concentrada o demasiado directa. Por lo que respecta a estos asesinatos, examinemos algunas investigaciones por nuestra cuenta, antes de formar de ellos una opinin. Una investigacin como sta nos procurar una buena diversin a m me pareci impropia esta ltima palabra, aplicada al presente caso, pero no dije nada, y, por otra parte, Le Bon ha comenzado por prestarme un servicio y quiero demostrarle que no soy un ingrato. Iremos al lugar del suceso y lo examinaremos con nuestros propios ojos. Conozco a G..., el prefecto de Polica, y no me ser difcil conseguir el permiso necesario. Nos fue concedida la autorizacin, y nos dirigimos inmediatamente a la rue Morgue. Es sta una de esas miserables callejuelas que unen la rue Richelieu y la de Saint-Roch. Cuando llegamos a ella, eran ya las ltimas horas de la tarde, porque este barrio se encuentra situado a gran distancia de aquel en que nosotros vivamos. Pronto hallamos la casa; an haba frente a ella varias personas mirando con vana curiosidad las ventanas cerradas. Era una casa como tantas de Pars. Tena una puerta principal, y en uno de sus lados haba una casilla de cristales con un bastidor corredizo en la ventanilla, y pareca ser la loge de concierge*. Antes de entrar nos dirigimos calle arriba, y, torciendo de nuevo, pasamos a la fachada posterior del edificio. Dupin examin durante todo este rato los alrededores, as como la casa, con una atencin tan cuidadosa, que me era imposible comprender su finalidad.

Volvimos luego sobre nuestros pasos, y llegamos ante la fachada de la casa. Llamamos a la puerta, y despus de mostrar nuestro permiso, los agentes de guardia nos permitieron la entrada. Subimos las escaleras, hasta llegar a la habitacin donde haba sido encontrado el cuerpo de Mademoiselle L'Espanaye y donde se hallaban an los dos cadveres. Como de costumbre, haba sido respetado el desorden de la habitacin. Nada vi de lo que se haba publicado en la Gazette des Tribunaux. Dupin lo analizaba todo minuciosamente, sin exceptuar los cuerpos de las vctimas. Pasamos inmediatamente a otras habitaciones, y bajamos luego al patio. Un gendarme nos acompa a todas partes, y la investigacin nos ocup hasta el anochecer, marchndonos entonces. De regreso a nuestra casa, mi compaero se detuvo unos minutos en las oficinas de un peridico. He dicho ya que las rarezas de mi amigo eran muy diversas y que je les menageais: esta frase no tiene equivalente en ingls. Hasta el da siguiente, a medioda, rehus toda conversacin sobre los asesinatos. Entonces me pregunt de pronto si yo haba observado algo particular en el lugar del hecho. En su manera de pronunciar la palabra particular haba algo que me produjo un estremecimiento sin saber por qu. No, nada de particular le dije; por lo menos, nada ms de lo que ya sabemos por el peridico. Mucho me temo me replic que la Gazette no haya logrado penetrar en el inslito horror del asunto. Pero dejemos las necias opiniones de este papelucho. Yo creo que si este misterio se ha considerado como insoluble, por la misma razn debera de ser fcil de resolver, y me refiero al outre carcter de sus circunstancias. La Polica se ha confundido por la ausencia aparente de motivos que justifiquen, no el crimen, sino la atrocidad con que ha sido cometido. Asimismo, les confunde la aparente imposibilidad de conciliar las voces que disputaban con la circunstancia de no haber hallado arriba sino a Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, asesinada, y no encontrar la forma de que nadie saliera del piso sin ser visto por las personas que suban por las escaleras. El extrao desorden de la habitacin; el cadver metido con la cabeza hacia abajo en la chimenea; la mutilacin espantosa del cuerpo de la anciana, todas estas consideraciones, con las ya descritas y otras no dignas de mencin, han sido suficientes para paralizar sus facultades, haciendo que fracasara por completo la tan cacareada perspicacia de los agentes del Gobierno. Han cado en el grande aunque comn error de confundir lo inslito con lo abstruso. Pero precisamente por estas desviaciones de lo normal es por donde ha de hallar la razn su camino en la investigacin de la verdad, en el caso de que ese hallazgo sea posible. En investigaciones como la que estamos realizando ahora, no hemos de preguntarnos tanto qu ha ocurrido como qu ha ocurrido que no haba ocurrido jams hasta ahora. Realmente la sencillez con que yo he de llegar o he llegado ya a la solucin de este misterio, se halla en razn directa con su aparente falta de solucin en el criterio de la Polica. Con mudo asombro, contempl a mi amigo. Estoy esperando ahora continu dicindome mirando a la puerta de nuestra habitacin a un individuo que aun cuando probablemente no ha cometido esta carnicera

bien puede estar, en cierta medida, complicado en ella. Es probable que resulte inocente de la parte ms desagradable de los crmenes cometidos. Creo no equivocarme en esta suposicin, porque en ella se funda mi esperanza de descubrir el misterio. Espero a este individuo aqu en esta habitacin y de un momento a otro. Cierto es que puede no venir, pero lo probable es que venga. Si viene, hay que detenerlo. Aqu hay unas pistolas, y los dos sabemos cmo usarlas cuando las circunstancias lo requieren. Sin saber lo que haca, ni lo que oa, tom las pistolas, mientras Dupin continuaba hablando como si monologara. Se dirigan sus palabras a m pero su voz no muy alta, tena esa entonacin empleada frecuentemente al hablar con una persona que se halla un poco distante. Sus pupilas inexpresivas miraban fijamente hacia la pared. La experiencia ha demostrado plenamente que las voces que disputaban dijo, odas por quienes suban las escaleras, no eran las de las dos mujeres. Este hecho descarta el que la anciana hubiese matado primeramente a su hija y se hubiera suicidado despus. Hablo de esto nicamente por respeto al mtodo; porque, adems, la fuerza de Madame L'Espanaye no hubiera conseguido nunca arrastrar el cuerpo de su hija por la chimenea arriba tal como fue hallado. Por otra parte, la naturaleza de las heridas excluye totalmente la idea del suicidio. Por tanto, el asesinato ha sido cometido por terceras personas, y las voces de stas son las que se oyeron disputar. Permtame que le haga notar no todo lo que se ha declarado con respecto a estas voces, sino lo que hay de particular en las declaraciones. No ha observado usted nada en ellas? Yo le dije que haba observado que mientras todos los testigos coincidan en que la voz grave era de un francs, haba un gran desacuerdo por lo que respecta a la voz aguda, o spera, como uno de ellos la haba calificado. Esto es evidencia pura dijo, pero no lo particular de esa evidencia. Usted no ha observado nada caracterstico, pero, no obstante haba algo que observar. Como ha notado usted los testigos estuvieron de acuerdo en cuanto a la voz grave. En ello haba unanimidad. Pero lo que respecta a la voz aguda consiste su particularidad, no en el desacuerdo, sino en que, cuando un italiano, un ingls, un espaol, un holands y un francs intentan describirla cada uno de ellos opina que era la de un extranjero. Cada uno est seguro de que no es la de un compatriota, y cada uno la compara, no a la de un hombre de una nacin cualquiera cuyo lenguaje conoce, sino todo lo contrario. Supone el francs que era la voz de un espaol y que hubiese podido distinguir algunas palabras de haber estado familiarizado con el espaol. El holands sostiene que fue la de un francs, pero sabemos que, por no conocer este idioma, el testigo haba sido interrogado por un intrprete. Supone el ingls que la voz fue la de un alemn; pero aade que no entiende el alemn. El espaol est seguro de que es la de un ingls, pero tan slo lo cree por la entonacin, ya que no tiene ningn conocimiento del idioma. El italiano cree que es la voz de un ruso, pero jams ha tenido conversacin alguna con un ruso. Otro francs difiere del primero, y est seguro de que la voz era de un italiano; pero aunque no conoce este idioma, est, como el espaol, seguro de ello por su entonacin. Ahora bien, cun extraa deba de ser aquella voz para que tales testimonios pudieran darse de ella, en cuyas inflexiones, ciudadanos de cinco grandes naciones europeas, no pueden reconocer nada que les sea familiar! Tal vez usted diga que puede muy bien haber sido la voz de un asitico o la de un africano; pero ni los

asiticos ni los africanos se ven frecuentemente por Pars. Pero, sin decir que esto sea posible, quiero ahora dirigir su atencin sobre tres puntos. Uno de los testigos describe aquella voz como ms spera que aguda; otros dicen que es rpida y desigual; en este caso, no hubo palabras (ni sonidos que se parezcan a ella), que ningn testigo mencionara como inteligibles. Ignoro qu impresin continu Dupin puedo haber causado en su entendimiento, pero no dudo en manifestar que las legtimas deducciones efectuadas con slo esta parte de los testimonios conseguidos (la que se refiere a las voces graves y agudas), bastan por s mismas para motivar una sospecha que bien puede dirigirnos en todo ulterior avance en la investigacin de este misterio. He dicho legtimas deducciones, pero as no queda del todo explicada mi intencin. Quiero nicamente manifestar que esas deducciones son las nicas apropiadas, y que mi sospecha se origina inevitablemente en ellas como una conclusin nica. No dir todava cul es esa sospecha. Tan slo deseo hacerle comprender a usted que para m tiene fuerza bastante para dar definida forma (determinada tendencia) a mis investigaciones en aquella habitacin. Mentalmente, trasladmonos a ella. Qu es lo primero que hemos de buscar all? Los medios de evasin utilizados por los asesinos. No hay necesidad de decir que ninguno de los dos creemos en este momento en acontecimientos sobrenaturales. Madame y Mademoiselle L'Espanaye no han sido, evidentemente, asesinadas por espritus. Quienes han cometido el crimen fueron seres materiales y escaparon por procedimientos materiales. De qu modo? Afortunadamente, slo hay una forma de razonar con respecto a este punto, y ste habr de llevarnos a una solucin precisa. Examinemos, pues, uno por uno, los posibles medios de evasin. Cierto es que los asesinos se encontraban en la alcoba donde fue hallada Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, o, cuando menos, en la contigua, cuando las personas suban las escaleras. Por tanto, slo hay que investigar las salidas de estas dos habitaciones. La Polica ha dejado al descubierto los pavimentos, los techos y la mampostera de las paredes en todas partes. A su vigilancia no hubieran podido escapar determinadas salidas secretas. Pero yo no me fiaba de sus ojos y he querido examinarlo con los mos. En efecto, no haba salida secreta. Las puertas de las habitaciones que daban al pasillo estaban cerradas perfectamente por dentro. Veamos las chimeneas. Aunque de anchura normal hasta una altura de ocho o diez pies sobre los hogares, no puede, en toda su longitud, ni siquiera dar cabida a un gato corpulento. La imposibilidad de salida por los ya indicados medios es, por tanto, absoluta. As, pues, no nos quedan ms que las ventanas. Por la de la alcoba que da a la fachada principal no hubiera podido escapar nadie sin que la muchedumbre que haba en la calle lo hubiese notado. Por tanto, los asesinos han de haber pasado por las de la habitacin posterior. Llevados, pues, de estas deducciones y, de forma tan inequvoca, a esta conclusin, no podemos, segn un minucioso razonamiento, rechazarla, teniendo en cuenta aparentes imposibilidades. Nos queda slo por demostrar que esas aparentes imposibilidades en realidad no lo son. En la habitacin hay dos ventanas. Una de ellas no se halla obstruida por los muebles, y est completamente visible. La parte inferior de la otra la oculta a la vista la cabecera de la pesada armazn del lecho, estrechamente pegada a ella. La primera de las dos ventanas est fuertemente cerrada y asegurada por dentro. Resisti a los ms violentos esfuerzos de quienes intentaron levantarla. En la parte izquierda de su marco vease un gran agujero

practicado con una barrena, y un clavo muy grueso hundido en l hasta la cabeza. Al examinar la otra ventana se encontr otro clavo semejante, clavado de la misma forma, y un vigoroso esfuerzo para separar el marco fracas tambin. La Polica se convenci entonces de que por ese camino no se haba efectuado la salida, y por esta razn consider superfluo quitar aquellos clavos y abrir las ventanas. Mi examen fue ms minucioso, por la razn que acabo ya de decir, ya que saba era preciso probar que todas aquellas aparentes imposibilidades no lo eran realmente. Continu razonando as a posteriori. Los asesinos han debido de escapar por una de estas ventanas. Suponiendo esto, no es fcil que pudieran haberlas sujetado por dentro, como se las ha encontrado, consideracin que, por su evidencia, paraliz las investigaciones de la Polica en este aspecto. No obstante, las ventanas estaban cerradas y aseguradas. Era, pues, preciso que pudieran cerrarse por s mismas. No haba modo de escapar a esta conclusin. Fui directamente a la ventana no obstruida, y con cierta dificultad extraje el clavo y trat de levantar el marco. Como yo supona, resisti a todos los esfuerzos. Haba, pues, evidentemente, un resorte escondido, y este hecho, corroborado por mi idea, me convenci de que mis premisas, por muy misteriosas que apareciesen las circunstancias relativas a los clavos, eran correctas. Una minuciosa investigacin me hizo descubrir pronto el oculto resorte. Lo oprim y, satisfecho con mi descubrimiento, me abstuve de abrir la ventana. Volv entonces a colocar el clavo en su sitio, despus de haberlo examinado atentamente. Una persona que hubiera pasado por aquella ventana poda haberla cerrado y haber funcionado solo el resorte. Pero el clavo no poda haber sido colocado. Esta conclusin est clarisima, y restringa mucho el campo de mis investigaciones. Los asesinos deban, por tanto, de haber escapado por la otra ventana. Suponiendo que los dos resortes fueran iguales, como era posible, deba, pues, de haber una diferencia entre los clavos, o, por lo menos, en su colocacin. Me sub sobre las correas de la armadura del lecho, y por encima de su cabecera examin minuciosamente la segunda ventana. Pasando la mano por detrs de la madera, descubr y apret el resorte, que, como yo haba supuesto, era idntico al anterior. Entonces examin el clavo. Era del mismo grueso que el otro, y aparentemente estaba clavado de la misma forma, hundido casi hasta la cabeza. Tal vez diga usted que me qued perplejo; pero si piensa semejante cosa es que no ha comprendido bien la naturaleza de mis deducciones. Sirvindome de un trmino deportivo, no me he encontrado ni una vez en falta. El rastro no se ha perdido ni un solo instante. En ningn eslabn de la cadena ha habido un defecto. Hasta su ltima consecuencia he seguido el secreto. Y la consecuencia era el clavo. En todos sus aspectos, he dicho, aparentaba ser anlogo al de la otra ventana; pero todo esto era nada (tan decisivo como pareca) comparado con la consideracin de que en aquel punto terminaba mi pista. Debe de haber algn defecto en este clavo, me dije. Lo toqu, y su cabeza, con casi un cuarto de su espiga, se me qued en la mano. El resto qued en el orificio donde se haba roto. La rotura era antigua, como se deduca del xido de sus bordes, y, al parecer, haba sido producido por un martillazo que hundi una parte de la cabeza del clavo en la superficie del marco. Volv entonces a colocar cuidadosamente aquella parte en el lugar de donde la haba

separado, y su semejanza con un clavo intacto fue completa. La rotura era inapreciable. Apret el resorte y levant suavemente el marco unas pulgadas. Con l subi la cabeza del clavo, quedando fija en su agujero. Cerr la ventana, y fue otra vez perfecta la apariencia del clavo entero. Hasta aqu estaba resuelto el enigma. El asesino haba huido por la ventana situada a la cabecera del lecho. Al bajar por s misma, luego de haber escapado por ella, o tal vez al ser cerrada deliberadamente, se haba quedado sujeta por el resorte, y la sujecin de ste haba engaado a la Polica, confundindola con la del clavo, por lo cual se haba considerado innecesario proseguir la investigacin. El problema era ahora saber cmo haba bajado el asesino. Sobre este punto me senta satisfecho de mi paseo en torno al edificio. Aproximadamente a cinco pies y medio de la ventana en cuestin, pasa la cadena de un pararrayos. Por sta hubiera sido imposible a cualquiera llegar hasta la ventana, y ya no digamos entrar. Sin embargo, al examinar los postigos del cuarto piso, vi que eran de una especie particular, que los carpinteros parisienses llaman ferrades, especie poco usada hoy, pero hallada frecuentemente en las casas antiguas de Lyon y Burdeos. Tienen la forma de una puerta normal (sencilla y no de dobles batientes), excepto que su mitad superior est enrejada o trabajada a modo de celosa, por lo que ofrece un asidero excelente para las manos. En el caso en cuestin, estos postigos tienen una anchura de tres pies y medio, ms o menos. Cuando los vimos desde la parte posterior de la casa, los dos estaban abiertos hasta la mitad; es decir, formaban con la pared un ngulo recto. Es probable que la Polica haya examinado, como yo, la parte posterior del edificio; pero al mirar las ferrades en el sentido de su anchura (como deben de haberlo hecho), no se han dado cuenta de la dimensin en este sentido, o cuando menos no le han dado la necesaria importancia. En realidad, una vez se convencieron de que no poda efectuarse la huida por aquel lado, no lo examinaron sino superficialmente. Sin embargo, para m era claro que el postigo que perteneca a la ventana situada a la cabecera de la cama, si se abra totalmente, hasta que tocara la pared, llegara hasta unos dos pies de la cadena del pararrayos. Tambin estaba claro que con el esfuerzo de una energa y un valor inslitos poda muy bien haberse entrado por aquella ventana con ayuda de la cadena. Llegado a aquella distancia de dos pies y medio (supongamos ahora abierto el postigo), un ladrn hubiese podido encontrar en el enrejada un slido asidero, para que luego, desde l, soltando la cadena y apoyando bien los pies contra la pared, pudiera lanzarse rpidamente, caer en la habitacin y atraer hacia s violentamente el postigo, de modo que se cerrase, y suponiendo, desde luego, que se hallara siempre la ventana abierta. Tenga usted en cuenta que me he referido a una energa inslita, necesaria para llevar a cabo con xito una empresa tan arriesgada y difcil. Mi propsito es el de demostrarle, en primer lugar, que el hecho poda realizarse, y en segundo, y muy principalmente, llamar su atencin sobre el carcter extraordinario, casi sobrenatural, de la agilidad necesaria para su ejecucin. Me replicar usted, sin duda, valindose del lenguaje de la ley, que para defender mi causa debiera ms bien prescindir de la energa requerida en ese caso antes que insistir en valorarla exactamente. Esto es realizable en la prctica forense, pero no en la razn. Mi objetivo final es la verdad tan slo, y mi propsito inmediato conducir a usted a que

compare esa inslita energa de que acabo de hablarle con la peculiarsima voz aguda (o spera), y desigual, con respecto a cuya nacionalidad no se han hallado siquiera dos testigos que estuviesen de acuerdo, y en cuya pronunciacin no ha sido posible descubrir una sola slaba. A estas palabras comenz a formarse en mi espritu una vaga idea de lo que pensaba Dupin. Me pareca llegar al lmite de la comprensin, sin que todava pudiera entender, lo mismo que esas personas que se encuentran algunas veces al borde de un recuerdo y no son capaces de llegar a conseguirlo. Mi amigo continu su razonamiento. Habr usted visto dijo que he retrotrado la cuestin del modo de salir al de entrar. Mi plan es demostrarle que ambas cosas se han efectuado de la misma manera y por el mismo sitio. Volvamos ahora al interior de la habitacin. Estudiemos todos sus aspectos. Segn se ha dicho, los cajones de la cmoda han sido saqueados, aunque han quedado en ellos algunas prendas de vestir. Esta conclusin es absurda. Es una simple conjetura, muy necia, por cierto, y nada ms. Cmo es posible saber que todos esos objetos encontrados en los cajones no eran todo lo que contenan? Madame L'Espanaye y su hija vivan una vida excesivamente retirada. No se trataban con nadie, salan rara vez y, por consiguiente, tenan pocas ocasiones para cambiar de vestido. Los objetos que se han encontrado eran de tan buena calidad, por lo menos, como cualquiera de los que posiblemente hubiesen posedo esas seoras. Si un ladrn hubiera cogido alguno, por qu no los mejores, o por qu no todos? En fin, hubiese abandonado cuatro mil francos en oro para cargar con un fardo de ropa blanca? El oro fue abandonado. Casi la totalidad de la suma mencionada por Monsieur Mignaud, el banquero, ha sido hallada en el suelo, en los saquitos. Insisto, por tanto, en querer descartar de su pensamiento la idea desatinada de un motivo, engendrada en el cerebro de la Polica por esa declaracin que se refiere a dinero entregado a la puerta de la casa. Coincidencias diez veces ms notables que sta (entrega del dinero y asesinato, tres das ms tarde, de la persona que lo recibe) se presentan constantemente en nuestra vida sin despertar siquiera nuestra atencin momentnea. Por lo general las coincidencias son otros tantos motivos de error en el camino de esa clase de pensadores educados de tal modo que nada saben de la teora de probabilidades, esa teora a la cual las ms memorables conquistas de la civilizacin humana deben lo ms glorioso de su saber. En este caso, si el oro hubiera desaparecido, el hecho de haber sido entregado tres das antes hubiese podido parecer algo ms que una coincidencia. Corroborara la idea de un motivo. Pero, dadas las circunstancias reales del caso, si hemos de suponer que el oro ha sido el mvil del hecho, tambin debemos imaginar que quien lo ha cometido ha sido tan vacilante y tan idiota que ha abandonado al mismo tiempo el oro y el motivo. Fijados bien en nuestro pensamiento los puntos sobre los cuales he llamado su atencin (la voz peculiar, la inslita agilidad y la sorprendente falta de motivo en un crimen de una atrocidad tan singular como ste), examinemos por s misma esta carnicera. Nos encontramos con una mujer estrangulada con las manos y metida cabeza abajo en una chimenea. Normalmente, los criminales no emplean semejante procedimiento de asesinato. En el violento modo de introducir el cuerpo en la chimenea habr usted de admitir que hay algo excesivamente exagerado, algo que est en desacuerdo con nuestras corrientes nociones respecto a los actos humanos, aun cuando supongamos que los autores de este crimen sean los seres ms depravados. Por otra parte, piense usted cun enorme debe de

haber sido la fuerza que logr introducir tan violentamente el cuerpo hacia arriba en una abertura como aqulla, por cuanto los esfuerzos unidos de varias personas apenas si lograron sacarlo de ella. Fijemos ahora nuestra atencin en otros indicios que ponen de manifiesto este vigor maravilloso. Haba en el hogar unos espesos mechones de grises cabellos humanos. Haban sido arrancados de cuajo. Sabe usted la fuerza que es necesaria para arrancar de la cabeza, aun cuando no sean ms que veinte o treinta cabellos a la vez. Usted habr visto tan bien como yo aquellos mechones. Sus races (qu espantoso espectculo!) tenan adheridos fragmentos de cuero cabelludo, segura prueba de la prodigiosa fuerza que ha sido necesaria para arrancar tal vez un millar de cabellos a la vez. La garganta de la anciana no slo estaba cortada, sino que tena la cabeza completamente separada del cuerpo, y el instrumento para esta operacin fue una sencilla navaja barbera. Le ruego que se fije tambin en la brutal ferocidad de tal acto. No es necesario hablar de las magulladuras que aparecieron en el cuerpo de Madame L'Espanaye. Monsieur Dumas y su honorable colega Monsieur Etienne han declarado que haban sido producidas por un instrumento romo. En ello, estos seores estn en lo cierto. El instrumento ha sido, sin duda alguna, el pavimento del patio sobre el que la vctima ha cado desde la ventana situada encima del lecho. Por muy sencilla que parezca ahora esta idea, escap a la Polica, por la misma razn que le impidi notar la anchura de los postigos, porque, dada la circunstancia de los clavos, su percepcin estaba hermticamente cerrada a la idea de que las ventanas hubieran podido ser abiertas. Si ahora, como aadidura a todo esto, ha reflexionado usted bien acerca del extrao desorden de la habitacin, hemos llegado ya al punto de combinar las ideas de agilidad maravillosa, fuerza sobrehumana, bestial ferocidad, carnicera sin motivo, una grotesquerie en lo horrible, extraa en absoluto a la humanidad, y una voz extranjera por su acento para los odos de hombres de distintas naciones y desprovista de todo silabeo que pudieran advertirse distinta e inteligiblemente. Qu se deduce de todo ello? Cul es la impresin que ha producido en su imaginacin? Al hacerme Dupin esta pregunta, sent un escalofro. Un loco ha cometido ese crimen dije, algn luntico furioso que se habr escapado de alguna Maison de Sant vecina. En algunos aspectos me contest no es desacertada su idea. Pero hasta en sus ms feroces paroxismos, las voces de los locos no se parecen nunca a esa voz peculiar oda desde la calle. Los locos pertenecen a una nacin cualquiera, y su lenguaje, aunque incoherente, es siempre articulado. Por otra parte, el cabello de un loco no se parece al que yo tengo en la mano. De los dedos rgidamente crispados de Madame L'Espanaye he desenredado est pequeo mechn. Qu puede usted deducir de esto? Dupin exclam, completamente desalentado, qu cabello ms raro! No es un cabello humano. Yo no he dicho que lo fuera me contest. Pero antes de decidir con respecto a este particular, le ruego que examine este pequeo diseo que he trazado en un trozo de papel.

Es un facsmil que representa lo que una parte de los testigos han declarado como crdenas magulladuras y profundos rasguos producidos por las uas en el cuello de Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, y que los doctores Dumas y Etienne llaman una serie de manchas lvidas evidentemente producidas por la impresin de los dedos. Comprender usted continu mi amigo, desdoblando el papel sobre la mesa y ante nuestros ojos que este dibujo da idea de una presin firme y poderosa. Aqu no hay deslizamiento visible. Cada dedo ha conservado, quizs hasta la muerte de la vctima, la terrible presa en la cual se ha moldeado. Pruebe usted ahora de colocar sus dedos, todos a un tiempo, en las respectivas impresiones, tal como las ve usted aqu. Lo intent en vano. Es posible continu que no efectuemos esta experiencia de un modo decisivo. El papel est desplegado sobre una superficie plana, y la garganta humana es cilndrica. Pero aqu tenemos un tronco cuya circunferencia es, poco ms o menos, la de la garganta. Arrolle a su superficie este diseo y volvamos a efectuar la experiencia. Lo hice as, pero la dificultad fue todava ms evidente que la primera vez. Esta dije no es la huella de una mano humana. Ahora, lea este pasaje de Cuvier continu Dupin. Era una historia anatmica, minuciosa y general, del gran orangutn salvaje de las islas de la India Oriental. Son harto conocidas de todo el mundo la gigantesca estatura, la fuerza y agilidad prodigiosas, la ferocidad salvaje y las facultades de imitacin de estos mamferos. Comprend entonces, de pronto, todo el horror de aquellos asesinatos. La descripcin de los dedos dije, cuando hube terminado la lectura est perfectamente de acuerdo con este dibujo. Creo que ningn animal, excepto el orangutn de la especie que aqu se menciona, puede haber dejado huellas como las que ha dibujado usted. Este mechn de pelo ralo tiene el mismo carcter que el del animal descrito por Cuvier. Pero no me es posible comprender las circunstancias de este espantoso misterio. Hay que tener en cuenta, adems, que se oyeron disputar dos voces, e, indiscutiblemente, una de ellas perteneca a un francs. Cierto, y recordar usted una expresin atribuida casi unnimemente a esa voz por los testigos; la expresin Mon Dieu. Y en tales circunstancias, uno de los testigos (Montani, el confitero) la identific como expresin de protesta o reconvencin. Por tanto, yo he fundado en estas voces mis esperanzas de la completa solucin de este misterio. Indudablemente, un francs conoce el asesinato. Es posible, y en realidad, ms que posible, probable, que l sea inocente de toda participacin en los hechos sangrientos que han ocurrido. Puede habrsele escapado el orangutn, y puede haber seguido su rastro hasta la habitacin. Pero, dadas las agitadas circunstancias que se hubieran producido, pudo no haberle sido posible capturarle de nuevo. Todava anda suelto el animal. No es mi propsito

continuar estas conjeturas, y las califico as porque no tengo derecho a llamarlas de otro modo, ya que los atisbos de reflexin en que se fundan apenas alcanzan la suficiente base para ser apreciables incluso para mi propia inteligencia, y, adems, porque no puedo hacerlas inteligibles para la comprensin de otra persona. Llammoslas, pues, conjeturas, y considermoslas as. Si, como yo supongo, el francs a que me refiero es inocente de tal atrocidad, este anuncio que, a nuestro regreso, dej en las oficinas de Le Monde, un peridico consagrado a intereses martimos y muy buscado por los marineros, nos lo traer a casa. Me entreg el peridico, y le: CAPTURA En el Bois de Boulogne se ha encontrado a primeras horas de la maana del da... de los corrientes (la maana del crimen), un enorme orangutn de la especie de Borneo. Su propietario (que se sabe es un marino perteneciente a la tripulacin de un navo malts) podr recuperar el animal, previa su identificacin, pagando algunos pequeos gestos ocasionados por su captura y manutencin. Dirigirse al nmero... de la rue... faubourg Saint-Germain... tercero. En el Bois de Boulogne se ha encontrado a primeras horas de la maana del da... de los corrientes (la maana del crimen), un enorme orangutn de la especie de Borneo. Su propietario (que se sabe es un marino perteneciente a la tripulacin de un navo malts) podr recuperar el animal, previa su identificacin, pagando algunos pequeos gestos ocasionados por su captura y manutencin. Dirigirse al nmero... de la rue... faubourg Saint-Germain... tercero. Cmo ha podido usted saber le pregunt a Dupin que el individuo de que se trata es marinero y est enrolado en un navo malts? Yo no lo conozco repuso Dupin. No estoy seguro de que exista. Pero tengo aqu este pedacito de cinta que, a juzgar por su forma y su grasiento aspecto, ha sido usada, evidentemente, para anudar los cabellos en forma de esas largas guerras a que tan aficionados son los marineros. Por otra parte, este lazo saben anudarlo muy pocas personas, y es caracterstico de los malteses. Recog esta cinta al pie de la cadena del pararrayos. No puede pertenecer a ninguna de las dos vctimas. Todo lo ms, si me he equivocado en mis deducciones con respecto a este lazo, es decir, pensando que ese francs sea un marinero enrolado en un navo malts, no habr perjudicado a nadie diciendo lo que he dicho en el anuncio. Si me he equivocado, supondr l que algunas circunstancias me engaaron, y no se tomar el trabajo de inquirirlas. Pero, si acierto, habremos dado un paso muy importante. Aunque inocente del crimen, el francs habr de conocerlo, y vacilar entre si debe responder o no al anuncio y reclamar o no al orangutn. Sus razonamientos sern los siguientes: Soy inocente; soy pobre; mi orangutn vale mucho dinero, una verdadera fortuna para un hombre que se encuentra en mi situacin. Por qu he de perderlo por un vano temor al peligro? Lo tengo aqu, a mi alcance. Lo encontraron en el Bois de Boulogne, a mucha distancia del escenario de aquel crimen.

Quin sospechara que un animal ha cometido semejante accin? La Polica est despistada. No ha obtenido el menor indicio. Dado el caso de que sospecharan del animal, ser imposible demostrar que yo tengo conocimiento del crimen, ni mezclarme en l por el solo hecho de conocerlo. Adems, me conocen. El anunciante me seala como dueo del animal. No s hasta qu punto llega este conocimiento. Si soslayo el reclamar una propiedad de tanto valor y que, adems, se sabe que es ma, concluir haciendo sospechoso al animal. No es prudente llamar la atencin sobre m ni sobre l. Contestar, por tanto, a este anuncio, recobrar mi orangutn y le encerrar hasta que se haya olvidado por completo este asunto. En este instante omos pasos en la escalera. Est preparado me dijo Dupin. Coja sus pistolas, pero no haga uso de ellas, ni las ensee, hasta que yo le haga una seal. Habamos dejado abierta la puerta principal de la casa. El visitante entr sin llamar y subi algunos peldaos de la escalera. Ahora, sin embargo, pareca vacilar. Le omos descender. Dupin se precipit hacia la puerta, pero en aquel instante le omos subir de nuevo. Ahora ya no retroceda por segunda vez, sino que subi con decisin y llam a la puerta de nuestro piso. Adelantedijo Dupin con voz satisfecha y alegre. Entr un hombre. A no dudarlo, era un marinero; un hombre alto, fuerte, musculoso, con una expresin de arrogancia no del todo desagradable. Su rostro, muy atezado, estaba oculto en ms de su mitad por las patillas y el mustachio. Estaba provisto de un grueso garrote de roble, y no pareca llevar otras armas. Salud, inclinndose torpemente, pronunciando un Buenas tardes con acento francs, el cual, aunque, bastardeada levemente por el suizo, daba a conocer a las claras su origen parisiense. Sintese, amigo dijo Dupin. Supongo que viene a reclamar su orangutn. Le aseguro que casi se lo envidio. Es un hermoso animal, y, sin duda alguna, de mucho precio. Qu edad cree usted que tiene? El marinero suspir hondamente, como quien se libra de un peso intolerable, y contest luego con voz firme: No puedo decrselo, pero no creo que tenga ms de cuatro o cinco aos. Lo tiene usted aqu? Oh, no! Esta habitacin no rene condiciones para ello. Est en una cuadra de alquiler en la rue Dubourg, cerca de aqu. Maana por la maana, si usted quiere, podr recuperarlo. Supongo que vendr usted preparado para demostrar su propiedad. Sin duda alguna, seor.

Mucho sentir tener que separarme de l dijo Dupin. No pretendo que se haya usted tomado tantas molestias para nada, seor dijo el hombre. Ni pensarlo. Estoy dispuesto a pagar una gratificacin por el hallazgo del animal, mientras sea razonable. Bien contest mi amigo. Todo esto es, sin duda, muy justo. Veamos. Qu voy a pedirle? Ah, ya s! Se lo dir ahora. Mi gratificacin ser sta: ha de decirme usted cuanto sepa con respecto a los asesinatos de la rue Morgue. Estas ltimas palabras las dijo Dupin en voz muy baja y con una gran tranquilidad. Con anloga tranquilidad se dirigi hacia la puerta, la cerr y se guard la llave en el bolsillo. Luego sac la pistola, y, sin mostrar agitacin alguna, la dej sobre la mesa. La cara del marinero enrojeci como si se hallara en un arrebato de sofocacin. Se levant y empu su bastn. Pero inmediatamente se dej caer sobre la silla, con un temblor convulsivo y con el rostro de un cadver. No dijo una sola palabra, y le compadec de todo corazn. Amigo mo dijo Dupin bondadosamente, le aseguro que se alarma usted sin motivo alguno. No es nuestro propsito causarle el menor dao. Le doy a usted mi palabra de honor de caballero y francs, que nuestra intencin no es perjudicarle. S perfectamente que nada tiene usted que ver con las atrocidades de la rue Morgue. Sin embargo, no puedo negar que, en cierto modo, est usted complicado. Por cuanto le digo comprender usted perfectamente, que, con respecto a este punto, poseo excelentes medios de informacin, medios en los cuales no hubiera usted pensado jams. El caso est ya claro para nosotros. Nada ha hecho usted que haya podido evitar. Naturalmente, nada que lo haga a usted culpable. Nadie puede acusarle de haber robado, pudiendo haberlo hecho con toda impunidad, y no tiene tampoco nada que ocultar. Tambin carece de motivos para hacerlo. Adems, por todos los principios del honor, est usted obligado a confesar cuanto sepa. Se ha encarcelado a un inocente a quien se acusa de un crimen cuyo autor solamente usted puede sealar. Cuando Dupin hubo pronunciado estas palabras, ya el marinero haba recobrado un poco su presencia de nimo. Pero toda su arrogancia haba desaparecido. Que Dios me ampare! exclam despus de una breve pausa. Le dir cuanto sepa sobre el asunto; pero estoy seguro de que no creer usted ni la mitad siquiera. Estara loco si lo creyera. Sin embargo, soy inocente, y aunque me cueste la vida le hablar con franqueza. En resumen, fue esto lo que nos cont: Haba hecho recientemente un viaje al archipilago Indico. l formaba parte de un grupo que desembarc en Borneo, y pas al interior para una excursin de placer. Entre I y un compaero suyo haban dado captura al orangutn. Su compaero muri, y el animal qued

de su exclusiva pertenencia. Despus de muchas molestias producidas por la ferocidad indomable del cautivo, durante el viaje de regreso consigui por fin alojarlo en su misma casa, en Pars, donde, para no atraer sobre l la curiosidad insoportable de los vecinos, lo recluy cuidadosamente, con objeto de que curase de una herida que se haba producido en un pie con una astilla, a bordo de su buque. Su proyecto era venderlo. Una noche, o, mejor dicho, una maana, la del crimen, al volver de una francachela celebrada con algunos marineros, encontr al animal en su alcoba. Se haba escapado del cuarto contiguo, donde l crea tenerlo seguramente encerrado. Se hallaba sentado ante un espejo, teniendo una navaja de afeitar en una mano. Estaba todo enjabonado, intentando afeitarse, operacin en la que probablemente haba observado a su amo a travs del ojo de la cerradura. Aterrado, viendo tan peligrosa arma en manos de un animal tan feroz y sabindole muy capaz de hacer uso de ella, el hombre no supo qu hacer durante un segundo. Frecuentemente haba conseguido dominar al animal en sus accesos ms furiosos utilizando un ltigo, y recurri a l tambin en aquella ocasin. Pero al ver el ltigo, el orangutn salt de repente fuera de la habitacin, ech a correr escaleras abajo, y, viendo una ventana, desgraciadamente abierta, sali a la calle. El francs, desesperado, corri tras l. El mono, sin soltar la navaja, se paraba de vez en cuando, se volva y le haca muecas, hasta que el hombre llegaba cerca de l; entonces escapaba de nuevo. La persecucin dur as un buen rato. Se hallaban las calles en completa tranquilidad, porque seran las tres de la madrugada. Al descender por un pasaje situado detrs de la rue Morgue, la atencin del fugitivo fue atrada por una luz procedente de la ventana abierta de la habitacin de Madame L'Espanaye, en el cuarto piso. Se precipit hacia la casa, y al ver la cadena del pararrayos, trep gilmente por ella, se agarr al postigo, que estaba abierto de par en par hasta la pared, y, apoyndose en sta, se lanz sobre la cabecera de la cama. Apenas si toda esta gimnasia dur un minuto. El orangutn, al entrar en la habitacin, haba rechazado contra la pared el postigo, que de nuevo qued abierto. El marinero estaba entonces contento y perplejo. Tena grandes esperanzas de capturar ahora al animal, que podra escapar difcilmente de la trampa donde se haba metido, de no ser que lo hiciera por la cadena, donde l podra salirle al paso cuando descendiese. Por otra parte, le inquietaba grandemente lo que pudiera ocurrir en el interior de la casa, y esta ltima reflexin le decidi a seguir al fugitivo. Para un marinero no es difcil trepar por una cadena de pararrayos. Pero una vez hubo llegado a la altura de la ventana, cerrada entonces, se vio en la imposibilidad de alcanzarla. Todo lo que pudo hacer fue dirigir una rpida ojeada al interior de la habitacin. Lo que vio le sobrecogi de tal modo de terror que estuvo a punto de caer. Fue entonces cuando se oyeron los terribles gritos que despertaron, en el silencio de la noche, al vecindario de la rue Morgue. Madame L'Espanaye y su hija, vestidas con sus camisones, estaban, segn parece, arreglando algunos papeles en el cofre de hierro ya mencionado, que haba sido llevado al centro de la habitacin. Estaba abierto, y esparcido su contenido por el suelo. Sin duda, las vctimas se hallaban de espaldas a la ventana, y, a juzgar por el tiempo que transcurri entre la llegada del animal y los gritos, es probable que no se dieran cuenta inmediatamente de su presencia. El golpe del postigo debi de ser verosmilmente atribuido al viento.

Cuando el marinero mir al interior, el terrible animal haba asido a Madame LEspanaye por los cabellos, que, en aquel instante, tena sueltos, por estarse peinando, y mova la navaja ante su rostro imitando los ademanes de un barbero. La hija yaca inmvil en el suelo, desvanecida. Los gritos y los esfuerzos de la anciana (durante los cuales estuvo arrancando el cabello de su cabeza) tuvieron el efecto de cambiar los probables propsitos pacficos del orangutn en pura clera. Con un decidido movimiento de su hercleo brazo le separ casi la cabeza del tronco. A la vista de la sangre, su ira se convirti en frenes. Con los dientes apretados y despidiendo llamas por los ojos, se lanz sobre el cuerpo de la hija y clav sus terribles garras en su garganta, sin soltarla hasta que expir. Sus extraviadas y feroces miradas se fijaron entonces en la cabecera del lecho, sobre la cual la cara de su amo, rgida por el horror, apenas si se distingua en la oscuridad. La furia de la bestia, que recordaba todava el terrible ltigo, se convirti instantneamente en miedo. Comprendiendo que lo que haba hecho le haca acreedor de un castigo, pareci deseoso de ocultar su sangrienta accin. Con la angustia de su agitacin y nerviosismo, comenz a dar saltos por la alcoba, derribando y destrozando los muebles con sus movimientos y levantando los colchones del lecho. Por fin, se apoder del cuerpo de la joven y a empujones lo introdujo por la chimenea en la posicin en que fue encontrado. Inmediatamente despus se lanz sobre el de la madre y lo precipit de cabeza por la ventana. Al ver que el mono se acercaba a la ventana con su mutilado fardo, el marinero retrocedi horrorizado hacia la cadena, y, ms que agarrndose, dejndose deslizar por ella, se fue inmediata y precipitadamente a su casa, con el temor de las consecuencias de aquella horrible carnicera, y abandonando gustosamente, tal fue su espanto, toda preocupacin por lo que pudiera sucederle al orangutn. As, pues, las voces odas por la gente que suba las escaleras fueron sus exclamaciones de horror, mezcladas con los diablicos parloteos del animal. Poco me queda que aadir. Antes del amanecer, el orangutn debi de huir de la alcoba, utilizando la cadena del pararrayos. Maquinalmente cerrara la ventana al pasar por ella. Tiempo ms tarde fue capturado por su dueo, quien lo vendi por una fuerte suma para el Jardn des plantes. Despus de haber contado cuanto sabamos, aadiendo algunos comentarios por parte de Dupin, en el bureau del Prefecto de Polica, Le Bon fue puesto inmediatamente en libertad. El funcionario, por muy inclinado que estuviera en favor de mi amigo, no poda disimular de modo alguno su mal humor, viendo el giro que el asunto haba tomado y se permiti una o dos frases sarcsticas con respecto a la correccin de las personas que se mezclaban en las funciones que a l le correspondan. Djele que diga lo que quiera me dijo luego Dupin, que no crea oportuno contestar. Djele que hable. As aligerar su conciencia. Por lo que a m respecta, estoy contento de haberle vencido en su propio terreno. No obstante, el no haber acertado la solucin de este misterio no es tan extrao como l supone, porque, realmente, nuestro amigo el Prefecto es lo suficientemente agudo para pensar sobre ello con profundidad. Pero su ciencia carece de base. Todo l es cabeza, mas sin cuerpo, como las pinturas de la diosa Laverna, o, por mejor decir, todo cabeza y espalda, como el bacalao. Sin embargo, es una buena persona. Le aprecio particularmente por un rasgo magistral de hipocresa, al cual debe su reputacin

de hombre de talento. Me refiero a su modo de nier ce qui est, et d'expliquer ce qui n'est pas**.