Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 442 | Page 8

true, as we suspect, that
you are the assassin of the notary Destouches.'
The assassin of the notary Destouches! Le Bossu heard but these words,
and when he recovered consciousness, he found himself alone, save for
the presence of a neighbour, who had been summoned to his assistance.
The procès verbal stated, in addition to much of what has been already
related, that the notary had been found dead in his bed, at a very early
hour of the morning, by his clerk Pierre Nadaud, who slept in the house.
The unfortunate man had been stifled, by a pillow it was thought. His
secrétaire had been plundered of a very large sum, amongst which
were Dutch gold ducats--purchased by Destouches only the day
before--of the value of more than 6000 francs. Delessert's
mortgage-deed had also disappeared, although other papers of a similar
character had been left. Six crowns had been found on Delessert's
person, one of which was clipped in a peculiar manner, and was sworn
to by an épicier as that offered him by the notary the day previous to
the murder, and refused by him. No other portion of the stolen property
could be found, although the police exerted themselves to the utmost
for that purpose.
There was, however, quite sufficient evidence to convict Delessert of
the crime, notwithstanding his persistent asseverations of innocence.
His known hatred of Destouches, the threats he had uttered concerning
him, his conduct in front of the cathedral, Marguérite's evidence, and

the finding the crown in his pocket, left no doubt of his guilt, and he
was condemned to suffer death by the guillotine. He appealed of course,
but that, everybody felt, could only prolong his life for a short time, not
save it.
There was one person, the convict's son, who did not for a moment
believe that his father was the assassin of Destouches. He was satisfied
in his own mind, that the real criminal was he whose step Delessert had
dreamed he heard upon the stair, who had opened the office-door, and
whose shadow fell across the bedroom floor; and his eager, unresting
thoughts were bent upon bringing this conviction home to others. After
awhile, light, though as yet dim and uncertain, broke in upon his filial
task.
About ten days after the conviction of Delessert, Pierre Nadaud called
upon M. Huguet, the procureur-général of Strasbourg. He had a serious
complaint to make of Delessert, fils. The young man, chiefly, he
supposed, because he had given evidence against his father, appeared to
be nourishing a monomaniacal hatred against him, Pierre Nadaud.
'Wherever I go,' said the irritated complainant, 'at whatever hour, early
in the morning and late at night, he dogs my steps. I can in no manner
escape him, and I verily believe those fierce, malevolent eyes of his are
never closed. I really fear he is meditating some violent act. He should,
I respectfully submit, be restrained--placed in a maison de santé, for his
intellects are certainly unsettled; or otherwise prevented from
accomplishing the mischief I am sure he contemplates.'
M. Huguet listened attentively to this statement, reflected for a few
moments, said inquiry should be made in the matter, and civilly
dismissed the complainant.
In the evening of the same day, Le Bossu was brought before M.
Huguet. He replied to that gentleman's questioning by the avowal, that
he believed Nadaud had murdered M. Destouches. 'I believe also,'
added the young man, 'that I have at last hit upon a clue that will lead to
his conviction.'
'Indeed! Perhaps you will impart it to me?'

'Willingly. The property in gold and precious gems carried off has not
yet been traced. I have discovered its hiding-place.'
'Say you so? That is extremely fortunate.'
'You know, sir, that beyond the Rue des Vignes there are three houses
standing alone, which were gutted by fire some time since, and are now
only temporarily boarded up. That street is entirely out of Nadaud's
way, and yet he passes and repasses there five or six times a day. When
he did not know that I was watching him, he used to gaze curiously at
those houses, as if to notice if they were being disturbed for any
purpose. Lately, if he suspects I am at hand, he keeps his face
determinedly away from them, but still seems to have an
unconquerable hankering after the spot. This very morning, there was a
cry raised close to the ruins, that a child had been run over by a cart.
Nadaud was passing: he knew I was close by, and violently checking
himself, as I could see, kept his eyes fixedly averted from the place,
which I have no longer any doubt contains the stolen treasure.'
'You are a shrewd lad,' said M. Huguet, after a thoughtful