The Argosy — page 281: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

264 In the Dead of Night. was accused and found guilty of a crime of which he was as innocent as Iam, I have vowed that I will not rest night or day till I have discovered the murderer and brought him to justice. Such being the case, I tell you plainly that the best thing you can do is to make a full and frank confession of all that you know respecting this terrible business, leaving it for me afterwards to decide as to the use which I may find it requisite to make of your confession. Are you prepared to do what I ask of you?” Janvard’s shoulders rose and fell again. ‘‘ I cannot help myself,” he said. ‘‘I have no choice but to comply with the wishes of mon- sieur.” , ‘“‘Sensibly spoken. Try another glass of wine. It may help to refresh your memory.” ‘‘ Alas ! monsieur, my memory needs no refreshing. The incidents of that night are far too terrible to be forgotten.” With a hand that still shook slightly he poured himself out another glass of wine and drank it off ata draught. Then he continued: “On the night of the quarrel in the billiard-room at Park Newton I was sitting up for my master, Mr. St. George. About midnight the bell rang for me, and on answering it, my master put Mr. Osmond into my hands, he being somewhat the worse for wine, with instructions to see him safely to bed. This I did, and then left him. As it happened, I had taken a violent fancy to Mr. Osmond’s splendid ruby ring—the very ring mon- sieur has now in his possession—and that night I determined to make it myown. ‘There were several new servants in the house, and nobody would suspect me of having taken it. Mr. Osmond had drawn it off his finger, and thrown it carelessly into his dressing-bag and locked it up before getting into bed, afterwards putting his keys under his pillow. = “When the house was quiet, I put on a pair of list slippers and ‘made my way to Mr. Osmond’s bed-room. The door was unlocked and I went in. A night lamp was burning on the dressing-table. The full moon shone in through the uncurtained window, and its rays slanted right across the sleeper’s face. He lay there, sleeping the sleep of the drunken, with one hand clenched, and a frown on his face as if he were still threatening Mr. Dering. It was hardly the work of a minute to possess myself of the keys. In another minute the dress- ing-case was opened and the ring my own. Mr. Osmond’s portman- teau stood invitingly open: what more natural than that I should desire to turn over its contents lightly and delicately? In such cases I am possessed by the simple curiosity of a child. I was down on my knees before the portmanteau, admiring this, that, and the other, when to my horror, I heard the noise of coming footsteps. No concealment was possible, save that afforded by the long curtains which shaded one of the windows. Next moment I was safely hidden behind them. Gomicbooks.com