A Detective’s Experience

A Homicide

“Far down in the old French quarter is an old building, now deserted and hastening to decay. It is a relic of another age, and was built nearly a century ago. Once the seat of opulence, it has sheltered princes and its history is legendary in romance. Somehow an evil name was awarded it, and since I knew it,” said Mr. F——, “it has been inhabited by the vicious and depraved. One night information was brought to Mr. I—— and myself that a murder had been committed there, and we hastened to ascertain the facts and arrest, if it were possible, the criminal. Reaching the place we ascended an old rickety stairway to a room in the back part of the building. A crowd, such as invariably gather to the scene of a homicide, were already there, looking on with pallid, awe-struck faces at the body of a man lying dead on the floor. It was a youthful face that shone pallid and white in the glare of the burning lamps—a calm, proud face, and the broad brow disclosed a mind instinct with intelligence. His apparel, although neat, was coarse, and but for the soft slender hands and the costly jewel that glittered on his finger one might have deemed him a man in humble life. In his hand was a piece of a woman’s dress, and the knife that still remained in his breast was a costly knife, fit only for a woman’s use. It had destroyed a human life, however, and the hand that had guided the delicate steel, had been urged by passion, or controlled by, skill. It had penetrated the heart, and the man had died without a struggle… Read More