CHAPTER XVIII

AND NOW ...

And now this pierced heart which the greatest thief that ever lived had burgled from its bodily prison is all mine. I can kneel in peace before the urn in which I have reverently enclosed it. No one can rob me of it now.

It was when it was still swayed by all the emotions of life, it was when its ardent beating animated an adored wife, that a villain strove to make a splendid victim of it, and to take it by force from my very arms; but now when it is no more than a little dust and a great memory, no one will contend with me for it.

During the terrible proceedings at the Assize Court, where the case was regarded as the most extraordinary that had come before the ordinary judicial bench within the memory of man, I clearly perceived that the man who stole Cordélia’s heart no longer cared about her who had been his victim. Not once in the course of the trial, which excited, without satisfying, the world’s curiosity—not once did the thief cast a glance on the table in which lay the material evidence—this sacred relic which had come from the hands of the “experts”; while I, alas, could not remove my sorrow-stricken eyes from it.

O heart of Cordélia, I alone loved thee! My rival was never anything but an artist.... But I, O Cordélia, I was never anything but a poor man in love, and I am still but a poor man in love before your dead heart as I was before your living heart.... The little that I may have of you I am taking away. With a trembling hand I have removed your beloved heart from its legal receptacle to this funeral urn. It will never, I think, be stolen from me again.

I no longer feel the shadow of the thief over me. And yet in spite of my perfect assurance of peace I have had another lock placed on the door of the retreat to which I have withdrawn from my fellow-men.

I have endeavored in this seclusion to fulfil the chief duty which I owe to myself and others. I have set down here the various circumstances which, to my knowledge, preceded, paved the way for, and accompanied the terrible tragedy. I have told in plain language how these things came to pass, even though they may seem entirely improbable. If the reader will follow me step by step and believe me, he will understand.

It was because the Assize Court did not believe me that they failed to understand. And yet I did not spare myself. I took on my own shoulders the responsibility for the whole fatal incident. Why did they not proceed against me? I say that it was I who killed her.... The misery of it! I may rejoice to-day that Cordélia’s heart will not again be stolen from me, because it is dead. And it was I who killed it. I shout it aloud and I repeat: Do not doubt it since I myself no longer doubt it.

The preliminary investigation took some time, and was postponed by the illness which came upon me as a result of the tragedy. When I was in a position to give evidence I found that the authorities were on the wrong scent as was to be expected.

Surdon, for instance, was arrested on the plea that he possessed a revolver from which one bullet had been discharged. It was alleged that he had made his way into his mistress’s room while she was asleep in order to steal her jewelry.

This was so much obtuseness and stupidity, and how could it be otherwise? The judges were confronted with the case of a woman killed by a bullet through the heart in a room every part of which was closed, the windows being shut on the inside and the door locked.

The most amazing thing was that a minute search failed to reveal the bullet. It had passed through the body, but it could not be found either in the sofa or walls. I myself knew where the bullet was. It was somewhere in the public gardens in Venice.

The police were obliged to release Surdon, but they afterwards arrested Patrick and kept him in custody until the trial at the Assize Court. A post-mortem examination was held, and the expert’s report showed that death was caused not by a shot from a revolver, but by a shot from a pistol of the same bore as that of the pistols which Patrick had procured for use at the duel.

As the magisterial enquiries proved that Patrick was prowling round the Hotel Danieli during the night preceding and the morning of the duel, nothing more was needed to enable the authorities to accuse him of having entered Cordélia’s room at the hotel by means of some master key, or some key that he managed to obtain beforehand from an accommodating servant whom he had bribed to assist him in his nefarious purpose. He had shot Cordélia out of jealousy to prevent her from belonging to another if he were killed in the duel.... It was simple.... How very simple it was!... Poor human nature!

The trouble was that a pistol shot causes a concussion, and no one in the hotel had heard the least sound.

In vain Patrick denied the charge, recounting stories about the power of suggestion and the communion of minds which made the Court laugh. The reason for his presence near the Hotel Danieli on this particular night was that I had requested him to send Cordélia to sleep so that she should not interfere with our plan to fight each other, and Cordélia could only be influenced by suggestion within a limited distance.

When I corroborated his statement, and gave it as my opinion that Cordélia had been killed in the Hotel Danieli by a shot fired by me in the public gardens in Venice, the judges ceased to smile and evinced considerable wrath. I was looked upon as a madman by some, and a fool by others, and these people were greatly incensed with me for not joining them in crushing Patrick. Cordélia’s father could not forgive me for it, and left me to myself with contempt.

The press agencies reported the result as far as Patrick was concerned in a few lines. The material proofs were too slight to justify a conviction, and the jury acquitted him in spite of the efforts of the public prosecutor.

Had the European political situation been less troubled, and had the trial not taken place in a foreign country, the facts would not have failed to create a tremendous sensation, as they deserved, for they brought the judicial bench face to face with the greatest conceivable drama, namely that which is enacted between the seen and the unseen worlds.

Those dullards were utterly nonplused. I can still picture to myself their look of confusion when Dr. Thurel, who was called as a witness for the defense, explained that it was not absolutely impossible, from the scientific standpoint, for Cordélia to have been killed by a bullet which struck her astral body in the public gardens in Venice. That is what Dr. Thurel called death by astral traumatism....

There is a Latin phrase which expresses it, a phrase which was in use in the Middle Ages, but I cannot call it to mind.