1850
                               "THOU ART THE MAN"
                               by Edgar Allan Poe
 
  I WILL now play the Oedipus to the Rattleborough enigma. I will
expound to you- as I alone can- the secret of the enginery that
effected the Rattleborough miracle- the one, the true, the admitted,
the undisputed, the indisputable miracle, which put a definite end
to infidelity among the Rattleburghers and converted to the
orthodoxy of the grandames all the carnal-minded who had ventured to
be sceptical before.
  This event- which I should be sorry to discuss in a tone of
unsuitable levity- occurred in the summer of 18-. Mr. Barnabas
Shuttleworthy- one of the wealthiest and most respectable citizens
of the borough- had been missing for several days under
circumstances which gave rise to suspicion of foul play. Mr.
Shuttleworthy had set out from Rattleborough very early one Saturday
morning, on horseback, with the avowed intention of proceeding to
the city of-, about fifteen miles distant, and of returning the
night of the same day. Two hours after his departure, however, his
horse returned without him, and without the saddle-bags which had been
strapped on his back at starting. The animal was wounded, too, and
covered with mud. These circumstances naturally gave rise to much
alarm among the friends of the missing man; and when it was found,
on Sunday morning, that he had not yet made his appearance, the
whole borough arose en masse to go and look for his body.
  The foremost and most energetic in instituting this search was the
bosom friend of Mr. Shuttleworthy- a Mr. Charles Goodfellow, or, as he
was universally called, "Charley Goodfellow," or "Old Charley
Goodfellow." Now, whether it is a marvellous coincidence, or whether
it is that the name itself has an imperceptible effect upon the
character, I have never yet been able to ascertain; but the fact is
unquestionable, that there never yet was any person named Charles
who was not an open, manly, honest, good-natured, and frank-hearted
fellow, with a rich, clear voice, that did you good to hear it, and an
eye that looked you always straight in the face, as much as to say: "I
have a clear conscience myself, am afraid of no man, and am altogether
above doing a mean action." And thus all the hearty, careless,
"walking gentlemen" of the stage are very certain to be called
Charles.
  Now, "Old Charley Goodfellow," although he had been in Rattleborough
not longer than six months or thereabouts, and although nobody knew
any thing about him before he came to settle in the neighborhood,
had experienced no difficulty in the world in making the
acquaintance of all the respectable people in the borough. Not a man
of them but would have taken his bare word for a thousand at any
moment; and as for the women, there is no saying what they would not
have done to oblige him. And all this came of his having been
christened Charles, and of his possessing, in consequence, that
ingenuous face which is proverbially the very "best letter of
recommendation."
  I have already said that Mr. Shuttleworthy was one of the most
respectable and, undoubtedly, he was the most wealthy man in
Rattleborough, while "Old Charley Goodfellow" was upon as intimate
terms with him as if he had been his own brother. The two old
gentlemen were next-door neighbours, and, although Mr. Shuttleworthy
seldom, if ever, visited "Old Charley," and never was known to take
a meal in his house, still this did not prevent the two friends from
being exceedingly intimate, as I have just observed; for "Old Charley"
never let a day pass without stepping in three or four times to see
how his neighbour came on, and very often he would stay to breakfast
or tea, and almost always to dinner, and then the amount of wine
that was made way with by the two cronies at a sitting, it would
really be a difficult thing to ascertain. "Old Charleys" favorite
beverage was Chateau-Margaux, and it appeared to do Mr.
Shuttleworthy's heart good to see the old fellow swallow it, as he
did, quart after quart; so that, one day, when the wine was in and the
wit as a natural consequence, somewhat out, he said to his crony, as
he slapped him upon the back- "I tell you what it is, 'Old Charley,'
you are, by all odds, the heartiest old fellow I ever came across in
all my born days; and, since you love to guzzle the wine at that
fashion, I'll be darned if I don't have to make thee a present of a
big box of the Chateau-Margaux. Od rot me,"- (Mr. Shuttleworthy had
a sad habit of swearing, although he seldom went beyond "Od rot me,"
or "By gosh," or "By the jolly golly,")- "Od rot me," says he, "if I
don't send an order to town this very afternoon for a double box of
the best that can be got, and I'll make ye a present of it, I will!-
ye needn't say a word now- I will, I tell ye, and there's an end of
it; so look out for it- it will come to hand some of these fine
days, precisely when ye are looking for it the least!" I mention
this little bit of liberality on the part of Mr. Shuttleworthy, just
by way of showing you how very intimate an understanding existed
between the two friends.
  Well, on the Sunday morning in question, when it came to be fairly
understood that Mr. Shuttleworthy had met with foul play, I never
saw any one so profoundly affected as "Old Charley Goodfellow." When
he first heard that the horse had come home without his master, and
without his master's saddle-bags, and all bloody from a pistol-shot,
that had gone clean through and through the poor animal's chest
without quite killing him; when he heard all this, he turned as pale
as if the missing man had been his own dear brother or father, and
shivered and shook all over as if he had had a fit of the ague.
  At first he was too much overpowered with grief to be able to do any
thing at all, or to concert upon any plan of action; so that for a
long time he endeavoured to dissuade Mr. Shuttleworthy's other friends
from making a stir about the matter, thinking it best to wait
awhile- say for a week or two, or a month, or two- to see if something
wouldn't turn up, or if Mr. Shuttleworthy wouldn't come in the natural
way, and explain his reasons for sending his horse on before. I dare
say you have often observed this disposition to temporize, or to
procrastinate, in people who are labouring under any very poignant
sorrow. Their powers of mind seem to be rendered torpid, so that
they have a horror of any thing like action, and like nothing in the
world so well as to lie quietly in bed and "nurse their grief," as the
old ladies express it- that is to say, ruminate over the trouble.
  The people of Rattleborough had, indeed, so high an opinion of the
wisdom and discretion of "Old Charley," that the greater part of
them felt disposed to agree with him, and not make a stir in the
business "until something should turn up," as the honest old gentleman
worded it; and I believe that, after all this would have been the
general determination, but for the very suspicious interference of Mr.
Shuttleworthy's nephew, a young man of very dissipated habits, and
otherwise of rather bad character. This nephew, whose name was
Pennifeather, would listen to nothing like reason in the matter of
"lying quiet," but insisted upon making immediate search for the
"corpse of the murdered man.- This was the expression he employed; and
Mr. Goodfellow acutely remarked at the time, that it was "a singular
expression, to say no more." This remark of 'Old Charley's,' too,
had great effect upon the crowd; and one of the party was heard to
ask, very impressively, "how it happened that young Mr. Pennifeather
was so intimately cognizant of all the circumstances connected with
his wealthy uncle's disappearance, as to feel authorized to assert,
distinctly and unequivocally, that his uncle was 'a murdered man.'"
Hereupon some little squibbing and bickering occurred among various
members of the crowd, and especially between "Old Charley" and Mr.
Pennifeather- although this latter occurrence was, indeed, by no means
a novelty, for no good will had subsisted between the parties for
the last three or four months; and matters had even gone so far that
Mr. Pennifeather had actually knocked down his uncles friend for
some alleged excess of liberty that the latter had taken in the
uncle's house, of which the nephew was an inmate. Upon this occasion
"Old Charley" is said to have behaved with exemplary moderation and
Christian charity. He arose from the blow, adjusted his clothes, and
made no attempt at retaliation at all- merely muttering a few words
about "taking summary vengeance at the first convenient opportunity,"-
a natural and very justifiable ebullition of anger, which meant
nothing, however, and, beyond doubt, was no sooner given vent to
than forgotten.
  However these matters may be (which have no reference to the point
now at issue), it is quite certain that the people of Rattleborough,
principally through the persuasion of Mr. Pennifeather, came at length
to the determination of dispersion over the adjacent country in search
of the missing Mr. Shuttleworthy. I say they came to this
determination in the first instance. After it had been fully
resolved that a search should be made, it was considered almost a
matter of course that the seekers should disperse- that is to say,
distribute themselves in parties- for the more thorough examination of
the region round about. I forget, however, by what ingenious train
of reasoning it was that "Old Charley" finally convinced the
assembly that this was the most injudicious plan that could be
pursued. Convince them, however, he did- all except Mr.
Pennifeather, and, in the end, it was arranged that a search should be
instituted, carefully and very thoroughly, by the burghers en masse,
"Old Charley" himself leading the way.
  As for the matter of that, there could have been no better pioneer
than "Old Charley," whom everybody knew to have the eye of a lynx;
but, although he led them into all manner of out-of-the-way holes
and corners, by routes that nobody had ever suspected of existing in
the neighbourhood, and although the search was incessantly kept up day
and night for nearly a week, still no trace of Mr. Shuttleworthy could
be discovered. When I say no trace, however, I must not be
understood to speak literally, for trace, to some extent, there
certainly was. The poor gentleman had been tracked, by his horses
shoes (which were peculiar), to a spot about three miles to the east
of the borough, on the main road leading to the city. Here the track
made off into a by-path through a piece of woodland- the path coming
out again into the main road, and cutting off about half a mile of the
regular distance. Following the shoe-marks down this lane, the party
came at length to a pool of stagnant water, half hidden by the
brambles, to the right of the lane, and opposite this pool all vestige
of the track was lost sight of. It appeared, however, that a
struggle of some nature had here taken place, and it seemed as if some
large and heavy body, much larger and heavier than a man, had been
drawn from the by-path to the pool. This latter was carefully
dragged twice, but nothing was found; and the party was upon the point
of going away, in despair of coming to any result, when Providence
suggested to Mr. Goodfellow the expediency of draining the water off
altogether. This project was received with cheers, and many high
compliments to "Old Charley" upon his sagacity and consideration. As
many of the burghers had brought spades with them, supposing that they
might possibly be called upon to disinter a corpse, the drain was
easily and speedily effected; and no sooner was the bottom visible,
than right in the middle of the mud that remained was discovered a
black silk velvet waistcoat, which nearly every one present
immediately recognized as the property of Mr. Pennifeather. This
waistcoat was much torn and stained with blood, and there were several
persons among the party who had a distinct remembrance of its having
been worn by its owner on the very morning of Mr. Shuttleworthy's
departure for the city; while there were others, again, ready to
testify upon oath, if required, that Mr. P. did not wear the garment
in question at any period during the remainder of that memorable
day, nor could any one be found to say that he had seen it upon Mr.
P.'s person at any period at all subsequent to Mr. Shuttleworthy's
disappearance.
  Matters now wore a very serious aspect for Mr. Pennifeather, and
it was observed, as an indubitable confirmation of the suspicions
which were excited against him, that he grew exceedingly pale, and
when asked what he had to say for himself, was utterly incapable of
saying a word. Hereupon, the few friends his riotous mode of living
had left him, deserted him at once to a man, and were even more
clamorous than his ancient and avowed enemies for his instantaneous
arrest. But, on the other hand, the magnanimity of Mr. Goodfellow
shone forth with only the more brilliant lustre through contrast. He
made a warm and intensely eloquent defence of Mr. Pennifeather, in
which he alluded more than once to his own sincere forgiveness of that
wild young gentleman- "the heir of the worthy Mr. Shuttleworthy,"- for
the insult which he (the young gentleman) had, no doubt in the heat of
passion, thought proper to put upon him (Mr. Goodfellow). "He
forgave him for it," he said, "from the very bottom of his heart;
and for himself (Mr. Goodfellow), so far from pushing the suspicious
circumstances to extremity, which he was sorry to say, really had
arisen against Mr. Pennifeather, he (Mr. Goodfellow) would make
every exertion in his power, would employ all the little eloquence
in his possession to- to- to- soften down, as much as he could
conscientiously do so, the worst features of this really exceedingly
perplexing piece of business."
  Mr. Goodfellow went on for some half hour longer in this strain,
very much to the credit both of his head and of his heart; but your
warm-hearted people are seldom apposite in their observations- they
run into all sorts of blunders, contre-temps and mal apropos-isms,
in the hot-headedness of their zeal to serve a friend- thus, often
with the kindest intentions in the world, doing infinitely more to
prejudice his cause than to advance it.
  So, in the present instance, it turned out with all the eloquence of
"Old Charley"; for, although he laboured earnestly in behalf of the
suspected, yet it so happened, somehow or other, that every syllable
he uttered of which the direct but unwitting tendency was not to exalt
the speaker in the good opinion of his audience, had the effect to
deepen the suspicion already attached to the individual whose cause he
pleaded, and to arouse against him the fury of the mob.
  One of the most unaccountable errors committed by the orator was his
allusion to the suspected as "the heir of the worthy old gentleman Mr.
Shuttleworthy." The people had really never thought of this before.
They had only remembered certain threats of disinheritance uttered a
year or two previously by the uncle (who had no living relative except
the nephew), and they had, therefore, always looked upon this
disinheritance as a matter that was settled- so single-minded a race
of beings were the Rattleburghers; but the remark of "Old Charley"
brought them at once to a consideration of this point, and thus gave
them to see the possibility of the threats having been nothing more
than a threat. And straightway hereupon, arose the natural question of
cui bono?- a question that tended even more than the waistcoat to
fasten the terrible crime upon the young man. And here, lest I may
be misunderstood, permit me to digress for one moment merely to
observe that the exceedingly brief and simple Latin phrase which I
have employed, is invariably mistranslated and misconceived. "Cui
bono?" in all the crack novels and elsewhere,- in those of Mrs.
Gore, for example, (the author of "Cecil,") a lady who quotes all
tongues from the Chaldaean to Chickasaw, and is helped to her
learning, "as needed," upon a systematic plan, by Mr. Beckford,- in
all the crack novels, I say, from those of Bulwer and Dickens to those
of Bulwer and Dickens to those of Turnapenny and Ainsworth, the two
little Latin words cui bono are rendered "to what purpose?" or, (as if
quo bono,) "to what good." Their true meaning, nevertheless, is "for
whose advantage." Cui, to whom; bono, is it for a benefit. It is a
purely legal phrase, and applicable precisely in cases such as we have
now under consideration, where the probability of the doer of a deed
hinges upon the probability of the benefit accruing to this individual
or to that from the deed's accomplishment. Now in the present
instance, the question cui bono? very pointedly implicated Mr.
Pennifeather. His uncle had threatened him, after making a will in his
favour, with disinheritance. But the threat had not been actually
kept; the original will, it appeared, had not been altered. Had it
been altered, the only supposable motive for murder on the part of the
suspected would have been the ordinary one of revenge; and even this
would have been counteracted by the hope of reinstation into the
good graces of the uncle. But the will being unaltered, while the
threat to alter remained suspended over the nephew's head, there
appears at once the very strongest possible inducement for the
atrocity, and so concluded, very sagaciously, the worthy citizens of
the borough of Rattle.
  Mr. Pennifeather was, accordingly, arrested upon the spot, and the
crowd, after some further search, proceeded homeward, having him in
custody. On the route, however, another circumstance occurred
tending to confirm the suspicion entertained. Mr. Goodfellow, whose
zeal led him to be always a little in advance of the party, was seen
suddenly to run forward a few paces, stoop, and then apparently to
pick up some small object from the grass. Having quickly examined it
he was observed, too, to make a sort of half attempt at concealing
it in his coat pocket; but this action was noticed, as I say, and
consequently prevented, when the object picked up was found to be a
Spanish knife which a dozen persons at once recognized as belonging to
Mr. Pennifeather. Moreover, his initials were engraved upon the
handle. The blade of this knife was open and bloody.
  No doubt now remained of the guilt of the nephew, and immediately
upon reaching Rattleborough he was taken before a magistrate for
examination.
  Here matters again took a most unfavourable turn. The prisoner,
being questioned as to his whereabouts on the morning of Mr.
Shuttleworthy's disappearance, had absolutely the audacity to
acknowledge that on that very morning he had been out with his rifle
deer-stalking, in the immediate neighbourhood of the pool where the
blood-stained waistcoat had been discovered through the sagacity of
Mr. Goodfellow.
  This latter now came forward, and, with tears in his eyes, asked
permission to be examined. He said that a stern sense of the duty he
owed his Maker, not less than his fellow-men, would permit him no
longer to remain silent. Hitherto, the sincerest affection for the
young man (notwithstanding the latter's ill-treatment of himself,
Mr. Goodfellow) had induced him to make every hypothesis which
imagination could suggest, by way of endeavouring to account for
what appeared suspicious in the circumstances that told so seriously
against Mr. Pennifeather, but these circumstances were now
altogether too convincing- too damning, he would hesitate no longer-
he would tell all he knew, although his heart (Mr. Goodfellow's)
should absolutely burst asunder in the effort. He then went on to
state that, on the afternoon of the day previous to Mr.
Shuttleworthy's departure for the city, that worthy old gentleman
had mentioned to his nephew, in his hearing (Mr. Goodfellow's), that
his object in going to town on the morrow was to make a deposit of
an unusually large sum of money in the "Farmers and Mechanics'
Bank," and that, then and there, the said Mr. Shuttleworthy had
distinctly avowed to the said nephew his irrevocable determination
of rescinding the will originally made, and of cutting him off with
a shilling. He (the witness) now solemnly called upon the accused to
state whether what he (the witness) had just stated was or was not the
truth in every substantial particular. Much to the astonishment of
every one present, Mr. Pennifeather frankly admitted that it was.
  The magistrate now considered it his duty to send a couple of
constables to search the chamber of the accused in the house of his
uncle. From this search they almost immediately returned with the
well-known steel-bound, russet leather pocket-book which the old
gentleman had been in the habit of carrying for years. Its valuable
contents, however, had been abstracted, and the magistrate in vain
endeavoured to extort from the prisoner the use which had been made of
them, or the place of their concealment. Indeed, he obstinately denied
all knowledge of the matter. The constables, also, discovered, between
the bed and sacking of the unhappy man, a shirt and
neck-handkerchief both marked with the initials of his name, and
both hideously besmeared with the blood of the victim.
  At this juncture, it was announced that the horse of the murdered
man had just expired in the stable from the effects of the wound he
had received, and it was proposed by Mr. Goodfellow that a post mortem
examination of the beast should be immediately made, with the view, if
possible, of discovering the ball. This was accordingly done; and,
as if to demonstrate beyond a question the guilt of the accused, Mr.
Goodfellow, after considerable searching in the cavity of the chest
was enabled to detect and to pull forth a bullet of very extraordinary
size, which, upon trial, was found to be exactly adapted to the bore
of Mr. Pennifeather's rifle, while it was far too large for that of
any other person in the borough or its vicinity. To render the
matter even surer yet, however, this bullet was discovered to have a
flaw or seam at right angles to the usual suture, and upon
examination, this seam corresponded precisely with an accidental ridge
or elevation in a pair of moulds acknowledged by the accused himself
to be his own property. Upon finding of this bullet, the examining
magistrate refused to listen to any farther testimony, and immediately
committed the prisoner for trial-declining resolutely to take any bail
in the case, although against this severity Mr. Goodfellow very warmly
remonstrated, and offered to become surety in whatever amount might be
required. This generosity on the part of "Old Charley" was only in
accordance with the whole tenour of his amiable and chivalrous conduct
during the entire period of his sojourn in the borough of Rattle. In
the present instance the worthy man was so entirely carried away by
the excessive warmth of his sympathy, that he seemed to have quite
forgotten, when he offered to go bail for his young friend, that he
himself (Mr. Goodfellow) did not possess a single dollar's worth of
property upon the face of the earth.
  The result of the committal may be readily foreseen. Mr.
Pennifeather, amid the loud execrations of all Rattleborough, was
brought to trial at the next criminal sessions, when the chain of
circumstantial evidence (strengthened as it was by some additional
damning facts, which Mr. Goodfellow's sensitive conscientiousness
forbade him to withhold from the court) was considered so unbroken and
so thoroughly conclusive, that the jury, without leaving their
seats, returned an immediate verdict of "Guilty of murder in the first
degree." Soon afterward the unhappy wretch received sentence of death,
and was remanded to the county jail to await the inexorable
vengeance of the law.
  In the meantime, the noble behaviour of "Old Charley Goodfellow, had
doubly endeared him to the honest citizens of the borough. He became
ten times a greater favorite than ever, and, as a natural result of
the hospitality with which he was treated, he relaxed, as it were,
perforce, the extremely parsimonious habits which his poverty had
hitherto impelled him to observe, and very frequently had little
reunions at his own house, when wit and jollity reigned
supreme-dampened a little, of course, by the occasional remembrance of
the untoward and melancholy fate which impended over the nephew of the
late lamented bosom friend of the generous host.
  One fine day, this magnanimous old gentleman was agreeably surprised
at the receipt of the following letter:-
 
                Chat. Mar. A- No. 1.-
              6 doz. bottles (1/2 Gross)
                  From H.F.B. & Co.
         Charles Goodfellow, Esq., Rattleborough
 
  "Charles Goodfellow, Esquire.
    "Dear Sir- In conformity with an order transmitted to our firm
about two months since, by our esteemed correspondent, Mr. Barnabus
Shuttleworthy, we have the honour of forwarding this morning, to
your address, a double box of Chateau-Margaux of the antelope brand,
violet seal. Box numbered and marked as per margin.
                                     "We remain, sir,
                                        Your most ob'nt ser'ts,
                                          HOGGS, FROGS, BOGS, & CO.
    "City of-, June 21, 18-.
    "P.S.- The box will reach you by wagon, on the day after your
receipt of this letter. Our respects to Mr. Shuttleworthy.
 
                                              "H., F., B., & CO."
 
  The fact is, that Mr. Goodfellow had, since the death of Mr.
Shuttleworthy, given over all expectation of ever receiving the
promised Chateau-Margaux; and he, therefore, looked upon it now as a
sort of especial dispensation of Providence in his behalf. He was
highly delighted, of course, and in the exuberance of his joy
invited a large party of friends to a petit souper on the morrow,
for the purpose of broaching the good old Mr. Shuttleworthy's present.
Not that he said any thing about "the good old Mr. Shuttleworthy" when
he issued the invitations. The fact is, he thought much and
concluded to say nothing at all. He did not mention to any one- if I
remember aright- that he had received a present of Chateau-Margaux. He
merely asked his friends to come and help him drink some, of a
remarkable fine quality and rich flavour, that he had ordered up
from the city a couple of months ago, and of which he would be in
the receipt upon the morrow. I have often puzzled myself to imagine
why it was that "Old Charley" came to the conclusion to say nothing
about having received the wine from his old friend, but I could
never precisely understand his reason for the silence, although he had
some excellent and very magnanimous reason, no doubt.
  The morrow at length arrived, and with it a very large and highly
respectable company at Mr. Goodfellow's house. Indeed, half the
borough was there,- I myself among the number,- but, much to the
vexation of the host, the Chateau-Margaux did not arrive until a
late hour, and when the sumptuous supper supplied by "Old Charley" had
been done very ample justice by the guests. It came at length,
however,- a monstrously big box of it there was, too- and as the whole
party were in excessively good humor, it was decided, nem. con.,
that it should be lifted upon the table and its contents disembowelled
forthwith.
  No sooner said than done. I lent a helping hand; and, in a trice
we had the box upon the table, in the midst of all the bottles and
glasses, not a few of which were demolished in the scuffle. "Old
Charley," who was pretty much intoxicated, and excessively red in
the face, now took a seat, with an air of mock dignity, at the head of
the board, and thumped furiously upon it with a decanter, calling upon
the company to keep order "during the ceremony of disinterring the
treasure."
  After some vociferation, quiet was at length fully restored, and, as
very often happens in similar cases, a profound and remarkable silence
ensued. Being then requested to force open the lid, I complied, of
course, "with an infinite deal of pleasure." I inserted a chisel,
and giving it a few slight taps with a hammer, the top of the box flew
suddenly off, and at the same instant, there sprang up into a
sitting position, directly facing the host, the bruised, bloody, and
nearly putrid corpse of the murdered Mr. Shuttleworthy himself. It
gazed for a few seconds, fixedly and sorrowfully, with its decaying
and lack-lustre eyes, full into the countenance of Mr. Goodfellow;
uttered slowly, but clearly and impressively, the words- "Thou art the
man!" and then, falling over the side of the chest as if thoroughly
satisfied, stretched out its limbs quiveringly upon the table.
  The scene that ensued is altogether beyond description. The rush for
the doors and windows was terrific, and many of the most robust men in
the room fainted outright through sheer horror. But after the first
wild, shrieking burst of affright, all eyes were directed to Mr.
Goodfellow. If I live a thousand years, I can never forget the more
than mortal agony which was depicted in that ghastly face of his, so
lately rubicund with triumph and wine. For several minutes he sat
rigidly as a statue of marble; his eyes seeming, in the intense
vacancy of their gaze, to be turned inward and absorbed in the
contemplation of his own miserable, murderous soul. At length their
expression appeared to flash suddenly out into the external world,
when, with a quick leap, he sprang from his chair, and falling heavily
with his head and shoulders upon the table, and in contact with the
corpse, poured out rapidly and vehemently a detailed confession of the
hideous crime for which Mr. Pennifeather was then imprisoned and
doomed to die.
  What he recounted was in substance this:- He followed his victim
to the vicinity of the pool; there shot his horse with a pistol;
despatched its rider with the butt end; possessed himself of the
pocket-book, and, supposing the horse dead, dragged it with great
labour to the brambles by the pond. Upon his own beast he slung the
corpse of Mr. Shuttleworthy, and thus bore it to a secure place of
concealment a long distance off through the woods.
  The waistcoat, the knife, the pocket-book, and bullet, had been
placed by himself where found, with the view of avenging himself
upon Mr. Pennifeather. He had also contrived the discovery of the
stained handkerchief and shirt.
  Towards the end of the blood-churning recital the words of the
guilty wretch faltered and grew hollow. When the record was finally
exhausted, he arose, staggered backward from the table, and fell-dead.
 
  The means by which this happily-timed confession was extorted,
although efficient, were simple indeed. Mr. Goodfellow's excess of
frankness had disgusted me, and excited my suspicions from the
first. I was present when Mr. Pennifeather had struck him, and the
fiendish expression which then arose upon his countenance, although
momentary, assured me that his threat of vengeance would, if possible,
be rigidly fulfilled. I was thus prepared to view the manoeuvering
of "Old Charley" in a very different light from that in which it was
regarded by the good citizens of Rattleborough. I saw at once that all
the criminating discoveries arose, either directly or indirectly, from
himself. But the fact which clearly opened my eyes to the true state
of the case, was the affair of the bullet, found by Mr. G. in the
carcass of the horse. I had not forgotten, although the Rattleburghers
had, that there was a hole where the ball had entered the horse, and
another where it went out. If it were found in the animal then,
after having made its exit, I saw clearly that it must have been
deposited by the person who found it. The bloody shirt and
handkerchief confirmed the idea suggested by the bullet; for the blood
on examination proved to be capital claret, and no more. When I came
to think of these things, and also of the late increase of
liberality and expenditure on the part of Mr. Goodfellow, I
entertained a suspicion which was none the less strong because I
kept it altogether to myself.
  In the meantime, I instituted a rigorous private search for the
corpse of Mr. Shuttleworthy, and, for good reasons, searched in
quarters as divergent as possible from those to which Mr. Goodfellow
conducted his party. The result was that, after some days, I came
across an old dry well, the mouth of which was nearly hidden by
brambles; and here, at the bottom, I discovered what I sought.
  Now it so happened that I had overheard the colloquy between the two
cronies, when Mr. Goodfellow had contrived to cajole his host into the
promise of a box of Chateaux-Margaux. Upon this hint I acted. I
procured a stiff piece of whalebone, thrust it down the throat of
the corpse, and deposited the latter in an old wine box-taking care so
to double the body up as to double the whalebone with it. In this
manner I had to press forcibly upon the lid to keep it down while I
secured it with nails; and I anticipated, of course, that as soon as
these latter were removed, the top would fly off and the body up.
  Having thus arranged the box, I marked, numbered, and addressed it
as already told; and then writing a letter in the name of the wine
merchants with whom Mr. Shuttleworthy dealt, I gave instructions to my
servant to wheel the box to Mr. Goodfellow's door, in a barrow, at a
given signal from myself. For the words which I intended the corpse to
speak, I confidently depended upon my ventriloquial abilities; for
their effect, I counted upon the conscience of the murderous wretch.
  I believe there is nothing more to be explained. Mr. Pennifeather
was released upon the spot, inherited the fortune of his uncle,
profited by the lessons of experience, turned over a new leaf, and led
happily ever afterward a new life.
 
 
                               THE END