This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
By HECTOR MALOT
When, after two hours' sleep, Saniel woke, he did not at first think ofthis knife; he was tired and dull. Mechanically he walked about his roomwithout paying attention to what he was doing, as if he were in a stateof somnambulism, and it astonished him, because he never felt wearinessof mind any more than of body, no matter how little he had slept, nor howhard he had worked.
But suddenly, catching a glimpse of the knife that he had placed on themantel, he received a shock that annihilated his torpor and his fatigue.It dazzled him like a flash of lightning.
He took it, and, going to the window, he examined it by the pale light ofearly morning. It was a strong instrument that, in a firm hand, would bea terrible arm; newly sharpened, it had the edge of a razor.
Then the idea, the vision that had come to him two hours before, cameback to him, clear and complete at nightfall, that is, at the moment whenthe concierge was in the second wing of the building, he mounted toCaffie's apartment without being seen, and with this knife he cut histhroat. It was as simple as it was easy, and this knife left beside thecorpse, and the nature of the wound, would lead the police to look fora butcher, or at least a man who was in thehabit of using a knife of thiskind.
The evening before, when he had discussed Caffie's death, the how and thewhen still remained vague and uncertain. But now the day and the meanswere definitely settled: it should be with this knife, and this evening.
This shook him out of his torpor and made him shudder.
He was angry with himself for this weakness. Did he know or did he notknow what he wished? Was he irresolute or cowardly?
Then, going from one idea to another, he thought of an observation thathe had made, which appeared to prove that with many subjects there isless firmness in the morning than in the evening. Was this the result ofdualism of the nervous centres, and was the human personality double likethe brain? Were there hours when the right hemisphere is master of ourwill, and were there other hours when the left is master? Did one ofthese hemispheres possess what the other lacked, and is it according tothe activity of this or that one, that one has such a character or such atemperament? This would be curious, and would amount to saying that, alamb in the morning, one might be a tiger at evening. With him it was alamb that woke in the morning to be devoured by a tiger during the day.To which hemisphere belonged the one and the other of thesepersonalities?
He was angry with himself for yielding to these reflections; it was atime, truly, to study this psychological question! It was of Caffie thathe should think, and of the plan which in an instant flashed through hismind in the street, before he decided to pick up this knife.
Evidently things were neither so simple nor so easy as they at firstappeared, and to insure the success of his plan a combination ofcircumstances was necessary, which might be difficult to bring about.
Would not the concierge see him pass? Would no one go up or down thestairs? Would Caffie be alon