LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1485, 19 November 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEM. By the Author of “ A Strange Witness,” Hands and Hearts, &c. It was a lovely July morning in the year 1821. The Baron Von Hoheneck, the wealthy owner of the charming villa of Rosenan Park, about half way between Leipzig and oh is, had started at early dawn on a ramble through the woods. A little after seven, Martin Krause, the baron’s vaht, was sent into the road by the baroness, to watch far his master’s return. He soon saw him come out. of the wood, and walk briskly on to a small pavilion, a few hundred yards away from the mansion. In this pavilion the baron had his study in the summer season, where it was his wont to pass half an hour or so every morning before breakfast. Martin reported to the baroness that his master had returned from his ramble and the lady gave orders orders accordingly for the morning meal to be got ready at once But a full hour passed, and the baron came not. Hoheneck was a good man and a kind master ; yet he was a little self-willed, and those about him were well aware that he was apt to resent the least semblance even of an attempted interference with his ocoa sionally slightly eccentric ways. So the baroness was reluctant to send for him. However, when another hour had passed without bringing her husband, she began to feel uneasy, and at last despatched Martin in search of him.

The valet gave a discreet knock at the door of the baron’s study in the pavilion. There was no answer. lie knocked once more and a third time, with the same negative result. At last he got a little frightened He ventured to turn tho handle, and ho gently drew the door open to look in.

There sat the baron iu his large armchair, his head hanging over on the left side, with the mouth wide open, and the eyes fixed in a glassy stare. Martin, who had served with the baron in the war of Liberation, and had thus had ample occasion to become familiar with death with many forms, took in the true state of affairs at a glance : the Baron von Iloheneck was dead. There was an extensive fearful contusion on the right temple, evidently the effect of a heavy blow dealt with some formidable blunt weapon : the Baron von Hoheneck had been foully murdered. There were|deep consternation and bitterest grief in the pleasant villa. The bereaved widow, struck to the innermost life by the awfully sudden blow, fell from one hysteric fit into another, until Death, lingering still about the place where he had wrought this blasting desolation, remorsefully pitying, beckoned her on to follow her beloved consort There was only one child, now doublyorphaned, Philip, a boy barely three years obi, and thus happily unconscious yet of life’s last and sup-cmest mystery. It was truly heartrending to see this little innocent st»ive to climb on his dead father’s knee, and draw his attenton to the new top and whip which his mamma had given him this very morning.

Martin Krinse had served the baron through many years with all the warm loyal affection and veneration of the glorious old type of family retainers abounding in the days of yore. The fearful calamity nearly crushed him ; st It the old soldier remained Gafin and collected iu the midst of the general consternation of the household. He promptly despatched mounted messengers to the Leipzig and’ Gohlis authorities, and to the nearest physicians. So the chief commissary of the Leipzig police was soon on the spot, attended by a dozen subordinates. Half a score of doctors also speedily gathered, and many old friends of the family came up A careful investigation was at once entered upon. The merest cursory examination of the dead man’s head showed unmistakably that the temporal bone on the right had been literally smashed in by a tremendous blow with the broad end of a heavy hammer. The murderer was presumably a strong man, then, and most likely a man of tad stature. Considering the powerful frame and the notorious Herculean strength of the late baron, coupled with the fact that his dagger «as found lying hire on the table before him, whilst his double-barrelled fowling piece was resting quite handy against the right arm of the chair, with both barrells loaded, it was evident that the unhappy man must have been tiken altogether unawares, and assailed suddenly by the cowardly assassin.

Nowhere in or about the pavilion was the least (.race of a struggle discernible. The entrance pate t > the park, through which the baron had passed in, was found locked, and the key to it was in the baron’s pocket. The murdered man evidently had just begun writing a letter when the fatal blow was struck, for the fingers of the right hand still (irmly reta ued, even in death, their hold upon the pen. ‘ Dear old boy,’ were tire few words traced on the paper, ‘ the bearer of this, ray good old—’ JHero the writing had evidently boon brought to an end suddenly by the murderous assault. There was clearly nothing whatever in these few words to atfoid the police the least clue or guidance.

The pavilion stood quite close to the wood, with no more than a clear width of about 10ft interposed between the largo bow window of the study and the foremost row cf trees. The window was wide open 5 bat as the servants stated that the baron had always had it kept open from morning to night in summer time, this was not much to go by; besides, no footprints could be detected outside the pavilion.

There were, indeed, some faint traces of steps discernible here and there on the grass at a short distance from the window ; but it was quite clear that these could only have been left by the light pressure of women’s or boys’ boots or shoes which certainly could not, by the widest stretch of imagination, be drawn into association with the indisputably large and heavy feet of the burly pepetrators of the crime

The wood, as indeed the whole neighborhood about Gohlis, was then, as it continues to be at the present day, a favorite resort for botanists. This very morning there had been several professors and numbers of students from the University of Leipzig rambling through the wood, some of whom had seen the baron and conversed with him 5 but none could remember having met a powerfully built man, likely to have struck that tremendous blow. Nor had the ranger seen any suspicious characters larking about. What could have been the motive of the crime? Was it enmity, revenge? This looked the most mysterious part of the wtole affair. No one knew the murdered man to have an enemy in the world. He certainly could never have given to man or woman Mich mortal offence as would even in the remotest way account for such fierce and dastardly retaliation, Robbery, then, seemed the only possible motive left. But here again it could not but strike the officers of the law as most strange that a case with some thirty thousand thalers value in negotiable paper was left intact in the strong box, which was found standing wide open at the other end of the table at which the unhappy man had been seated when he received the fatal blow. A casket with precious stones was also left untouched. No attempt seemed to have been made to take the baron’s watch or his purse, or the large valuable brilliant which he wore on the middle finger of his right hand, or the two costly hoops of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds worn by him on the ring finger of the left hand. His diamond studs and sleeve buttons had also been left untouched.

About forty louis d’or were found in the purse, aud some two hundred thalers in silver in a drawer of the safe. Now, indeed, Martin Krause had an impression that the baron had a short time previously kept in his safe a sum of from four to live thousand thalers in louis d’or and double louis. On the other hand it was known that the baron had quite recently invested largely in city bonds, for which he certainly migtit have paid in gold. His books threw no light up' n this matter : the poor man had kept them rather like a captain of dragoons than a man of business. The only person who might have been able to clear up this and some other important points in the inquiry, the baroness, had unhappily herself been hurried out cf life by the same fatal blow that had struck down her beloved husband.

The only additional scrap of evidence which had the least bearing upon the case was given in the course of the afternoon by Professor Tauber, oue of the oldest and dearest friends of the murdered man.

The professor had been botanising in the wood, when the baron had accidentally met him. They had had a chat together. The professor, it would app ar, had just heard that Count Seebaeb, an old war comrade of the baron’s, who was living on his estates near the Saxon capital, had in his possession a fine collection of rare Elzevirs, which he, not much given to books, would not feil disinclined to part with on reasonable terms. Bo the professor asked the baron for a few words of introduction to bis friend, which Hoheneck had cheerfully promised to bring personally to the professor in Leipzig in the course of the afternoon. This explained the letter which the unhappy man had just begun writing when the assassin struck his foul blow.

The professor, unconscious of his friend’s sad fate, had returned to bis modest bachelor’s dwelling in the Katharinen Skrasse at about nine. At one in the afternoon he had gone, as was his daily wont, to drink his chopin of wine iu the famous old Pvathswage Cellar at the corner of Catherine street. Hero he had heard the first of the fearful news, and had at once hastened to Rosenau Park. Professor Tauber had known the baron from childhood. At a later period young Hoheneck had been one of the most eager and attentive auditors at the professor’s farfamed lectures on natural philosophy. To the Baroness Maria von Hokeneck Tauber had been godfather—ho had loved both of them with the warm affection of a childless old man, and now they were both dead, carried off suddenly by a startling, overwhelming calamity. No wonder the old man was well-nigh crushed with grief. It was affecting to see him literally throw himself upon the murdered body of his dear friend, which he held in a close embrace, sobbing covulsively all the while, and almost bitterly charging God that he had permitted the perpetration of this foul deed. When the first fierce spasm of his grief had calmed down a little, he fondly patted the cold cheeks and kissed the pale lips of the man who in life had been so near to his heart. ‘ 0 my beloved George,’ he murmured at last, in a semi-conscious state aud half dreamingly, as one slowly awakening from a frightful nightmare, to find himself ace to face with a more frightful reality, ‘ dearest and most cherished of all my pupils, this is bitter, most, bitter to bear ; but it must have been the will of the Almighty, and we can only humbly submit. He kno weth tbit if all the blood in my old veins could bring bade thy dear life, I would joyfully shed the last drop of it. But, alas, alas, the past is irretrievably gone fiom us, aud there thou, only just now so fall of vigor, liest stark before me, never tn rise again on this earth, whilst I, a decripit old man, am left standing sad aud desolate to mour n thee ! Bitter, ay, bitter indeed ! Oh, how gladly would 1 change places with thei 1 And my darling little Maria also swept away morcdessly ! —No, no ! —God forgive me !—not mercilesdy, but mercifully most mercifully ! For what agony would have been hers to suffer, aud mine to sec her suffer it!’ This in a fierce burst of passionate grief. * Nay, nay, thank God, this has been spared me 1’

(To he continued.)