Could it have been William Bucholz?
Of a certainty the opportunity had been afforded him, and he could have struck the old man down with no one near to tell the story. But if, in the silence of that lonely evening, his hand had dealt the fatal blow, where was the instrument with which the deed was committed? If he had rifled the dead man"s pockets and had taken from him his greedily h.o.a.rded wealth, where was it now secured, or what disposition had he made of it?
From the time that he had fallen fainting upon the floor of the farm-house kitchen, until the present, he was not known to have been alone.
Tearful in his grief for the death of his master, his voice had been the first that suggested the necessity for going in search of him. He was seen to go to the place where he usually kept his pistol, and prepare himself for defense in accompanying Samuel Waring.
He had stood sorrowfully beside that prostrate form as the hand of the neighbor had been laid upon the stilled and silent heart, and life had been p.r.o.nounced extinct. He had journeyed with Sammy Waring to the village to give the alarm and to notify the coroner, and on his return his arms had a.s.sisted in carrying the unconscious burden to the house. Could a murderer, fresh from his b.l.o.o.d.y work, have done this?
From that evening officers had been in charge of the premises.
Bucholz, nervous, and physically worn out, had retired with Sammy Waring, and had not left the house during the evening. If he had committed this deed he must have the money, but the house was thoroughly searched, and no trace of this money was discovered.
His bearing upon the inquest had been such that scarcely any one present was disposed to believe in his guilty partic.i.p.ation in the foul crime, or that he had any knowledge of the circ.u.mstances, save such as he had previously related.
Where then was this large sum of money which had so mysteriously disappeared?
A stack of straw that stood beside the barn--the barn had been thoroughly searched before--was purchased by an enterprising and ambitious officer in charge of Bucholz, and although he did not own a horse, he had the stack removed, the ground surrounding it diligently searched, in the vague hope that something would be discovered hidden beneath it.
But thus far, speculation, search and inquiry had availed nothing, and as the crowd gathered at the station, and the sealed casket that contained the body of the murdered man was placed upon the train to begin its journey to the far distant home which he had left but a short time before, many thought that with its departure there had also disappeared all possibility of discovering his a.s.sa.s.sin, and penetrating into the deep mystery which surrounded his death.
An important discovery was, however, made at this time, which changed the current of affairs, and seemed for a time to react against the innocence of the man against whom suspicion attached.
In the village there resided an individual named Paul Herscher, who was the proprietor of the saloon in which the deceased and his servant had taken their drink of beer, after leaving the train upon the night of the murder.
During the residence of Mr. Schulte at Roton Hill, Bucholz and Paul Herscher had become intimate acquaintances, and Bucholz had stated upon his examination that during the month of the previous October he had loaned to Paul the sum of two hundred dollars. That the servant of so parsimonious a man should have been possessed of such a sum of money seemed very doubtful, and inquiries were started with the view of ascertaining the facts of the case.
The investigation was still going on, and Paul was called as a witness. His story went far towards disturbing the implicit confidence in Bucholz"s innocence, and caused a reaction of feeling in the minds of many, which, while it did not confirm them in a belief in his guilt, at least made them doubtful of his entire ignorance of the crime.
Paul Herscher stated that on the morning after the murder Bucholz had entered his saloon, and calling him into an adjoining room, had placed in his hands a roll of bills, saying at the same time, in German:
"Here is two hundred dollars of my money. I want you to keep it until I make my report to the coroner. _If anybody asks you about it, tell them I gave it to you some time ago._"
Here was an attempt to deceive somebody, and, although Paul had retained this money for several days, without mentioning the fact of its existence, his revelation had its effect. Upon comparing the notes, all of which were marked with a peculiar arrangement of numbers, and by the hand of the deceased, they were found to correspond with a list found among the papers of Henry Schulte, and then in the custody of his administrators.
To this charge, however, Bucholz gave a free, full and, so far as outward demeanor was concerned, truthful explanation, which, while it failed to fully satisfy the minds of those who heard it, served to make them less confident of his duplicity or his guilt.
He acknowledged the statements made by Paul Herscher to be true, but stated in explanation that he received the money from Mr. Schulte on their way home on the evening of the murder, in payment of a debt due him, and that, fearing he might be suspected, he had gone to Paul, and handing him the money, had requested him, if inquiries were inst.i.tuted, to confirm the statement which he had then made.
That this statement seemed of a doubtful character was recognized by every one, and that a full examination into the truthfulness of his a.s.sertions was required was admitted by all; and, after other testimony, not, however, of a character implicating him in the murder, was heard, the State"s attorney pressed for such a verdict as would result in holding Bucholz over for a trial.
After a long deliberation, in which every portion of the evidence was considered by the jury, which had listened intently to its relation, they returned the following verdict:
"That John Henry Schulte came to his death from wounds inflicted with some unknown instrument, in the hands of some person or persons known to William Bucholz, and we do find that said William Bucholz has a guilty knowledge of said crime."
This announcement occasioned great surprise among the people a.s.sembled; but to none, perhaps, was the result more unexpected than to William Bucholz himself. He stood in a dazed, uncertain manner for a few moments, and then, uttering a smothered groan, sank heavily in his seat.
The officers of the law advanced and laid their hands upon his shoulder; and, scarcely knowing what he did, and without uttering a word, he arose and followed them from the building. He was placed upon the train to Bridgeport, and before nightfall the iron doors of a prison closed upon him, and he found himself a prisoner to be placed on trial for his life."
[Ill.u.s.tration: "_The officers of the law advanced and laid their hands upon his shoulders_"--]
CHAPTER VII.
_Bucholz in Prison._--_Extravagant Habits and Suspicious Expenditures._--_The German Consul Interests Himself._--_Bucholz committed._
Sorrowful looks followed the young man as he was conducted away, and frequent words of sympathy and hope were expressed as he pa.s.sed through the throng on his way to the depot, but he heeded them not. A dull, heavy pain was gnawing at his heart, and a stupor seemed to have settled over his senses. The figures around him appeared like the moving specters in a horrible dream, while a black cloud of despair seemed to envelop him.
He followed the officers meekly, and obeyed their orders in a mechanical manner, that showed too plainly that his mind was wandering from the scenes about him. He looked helplessly around, and did not appear to realize the situation in which he was so suddenly and unexpectedly placed.
He experienced the pangs of hunger, and felt as though food was necessary to stop the dreadful pain which had taken possession of him, but he made no sign, and from the jury-room to the prison he uttered not a word.
It was only when he found himself in the presence of the officials of the prison, whose gloomy walls now surrounded him, that he recovered his equanimity, and when he was ordered to surrender the contents of his clothing, or submit to a search, his eyes flashed with indignation, and the tears that welled up into them dropped upon his pallid cheek.
With a Herculean effort, however, he recovered his strong calmness, and drawing up his erect figure he submitted in silence to the necessary preparations for his being conducted to a cell.
But as the door of the cell clanged to, shutting him in, and the noise reverberated through the dimly-lighted corridors, he clutched wildly at the bars, and with a paroxysm of frenzy seemed as though he would rend them from their fastenings; then, realizing how fruitless were his efforts, he sank upon the narrow bed in a state of stupefying despair.
The pangs of hunger were forgotten now, he could not have partaken of the choicest viands that could have been placed before him, and alone and friendless he fed upon the bitterness of his own thoughts.
In vain did he attempt to close his eyes to the dreadful surroundings, and to clear his confused mind of the horrible visions that appalled him. The dark cloud gathered about him, and he could discover no avenue of escape.
The night was long and terrible, and the throbbing of his brain seemed to measure the minutes as they slowly dragged on, relieved only at intervals by the steady tramp of the keepers, as they went their customary rounds. The lamp from the corridor glowed with an unearthly light upon his haggard face and burning eyes, while his mind restlessly flitted from thought to thought, in the vain attempt of seeking some faint relief from the shadows that surrounded him.
All through the weary watches of the night he walked his narrow cell, miserable and sleepless. Hour after hour went by, but there came no drooping of the heavy lids, betokening the long-looked-for approach of sleep. At length, when the darkness of the night began to flee away and the gray dawn was breaking without, but ere any ray had penetrated the gloom of his comfortless apartment, he threw himself upon the bed, weary, worn and heart-sick--there stole over his senses forgetfulness of his surroundings, and he slept.
The body, worn and insensible, lay upon the narrow couch, but the mind, that wonderful and mysterious agency, was still busy--he dreamed and muttered in his dreaming thoughts.
Oh, for the power to look within, and to know through what scenes he is pa.s.sing now!
Leaving the young man in the distressing position of a suspected criminal, and deprived of his liberty, let us retrace our steps, and gather up some links in the chain of the testimony against him, which were procured during the days that intervened between the night of the murder and the day of his commitment.
It will be remembered that he had been placed in charge of two officers of South Norwalk, who, without restraining him of his liberty, accompanied him wherever he went, and watched his every movement.
Bucholz soon developed a talent for spending money, which had never been noticed in him before. He became exceedingly extravagant in his habits, purchased clothing for which he had apparently no use, and seemed to have an abundance of funds with which to gratify his tastes. At each place he went and offered a large note in payment of the purchases which he had made, the note was secured by the officers, and was invariably found to contain the peculiar marks which designated that it had once belonged to the murdered man. He displayed a disposition for dissipation, and would drink to excess, smoking inordinately, and indulging in carriage-rides, always in company with the officers, whose watchful eyes never left him and whose vigilance was unrelaxed.
The State"s attorney was indefatigable in his efforts to force upon Bucholz the responsibility of the murder, and no means were left untried to accomplish that purpose. As yet the only evidence was his possession of a moderate amount of money, which bore the marks made upon it by the man who had been slain, and which might or might not have come to him in a legitimate manner and for legitimate services.
The important fact still remained that more than fifty thousand dollars had been taken from the body of the old man, and that the murderer, whoever he might be, had possessed himself of that amount.
It was considered, therefore, a matter of paramount importance that this money should be recovered, as well as that the ident.i.ty of the murderer should be established.
The case was a mysterious one, and thus far had defied the efforts of the ablest men who had given their knowledge and their energies to this perplexing matter.
Mr. Olmstead, who remained firm in belief in Bucholz"s guilt, and who refused to listen to any theory adverse to this state of affairs, determined in his heart that something should be done that would prove beyond peradventure the correctness of his opinions.
About this time two discoveries were made, which, while affording no additional light upon the mysterious affair, proved conclusively that whoever the guilty parties were they were still industrious in their attempts to avert suspicion and destroy any evidence that might be used against them.