Born Again - Alfred William Lawson (fantasy books to read txt) 📗

raised her eyes and looked in my direction, I instantly recognized the girl Arletta, and realized that she was leaving me forever. And then, like one in a dream, I held out my hands and mutely implored her to return. She appeared to be within a short distance and looking straight at me, but still made no sign of recognition. I could not understand the reason for such coldness on her part, and in astonishment rubbed my eyes and looked again, when lo and behold, she had vanished from sight. But far out into the distance, almost to the horizon, I could plainly see a large steamer headed toward the vast ocean beyond. I looked around in a confused sort of a way, and discovered, to my surprise, that I was standing almost at the water's edge on one of the docks near Battery Place. It was daylight, and the sun was shining overhead. I then concluded that I must have been out of my head for some time, and questioning a stranger, who stood nearby, I learned that just fourteen hours had elapsed since I had bade Arletta good-bye, and I could form no recollection of the slightest incident that happened since then.

After watching the steamer until it had disappeared from view, I slowly walked to a bench in Battery Park and sat down, in the depths of despair, to reflect upon the strange occurrence. I must have sat there for about an hour in deep meditation, when my attention was attracted by a newspaper urchin, shouting at the top of his voice: "Paper! Extra! All about the great murder." At the same time he rushed up to me, pushed a paper into my hand, took the penny I offered him mechanically, and scampered along.

"Another murder," mused I; "what a pity human beings cannot dwell together without taking each other's lives."

Glancing over the headlines, I learned from the big black type that a beautiful young woman had been murdered in cold blood. Reading further, I was horrified to find that the young woman's name was Arletta Fogg, and that she was murdered in her own rooms, at the Seraglio Apartments, Central Park West. I could hardly believe my eyes saw the thing aright. I felt sure that it must be an optical illusion wrought by my constant thought of Arletta. I looked again and again, yet read ever the same words, and, laboring under tremendous excitement, I hurriedly perused the account of the murder. It stated that about eleven o'clock of the previous night Arletta Fogg had arrived at the apartment house, and had been taken to her rooms by the elevator attendant. A half hour later a tall, smooth-faced, white-haired gentleman arrived, and was shown to her apartments. This man was seen by the watchman to leave the place at three o'clock in the morning, and the chambermaid discovered her at ten o'clock in the morning, dead, and covered with blood from several stabs in the body.

Cold perspiration oozed from every pore of my body as I read and re-read this article, over and over again. I was puzzled, dumbfounded, horror- stricken. The description given of the apparent murderer tallied exactly with myself. Straining every nerve I endeavored to regain some impression that might lead to a knowledge of my actions from the time Arletta left me the night before until I had recovered my senses that day. But try as I might, I could no more recall to memory the slightest movement on my part during that time than I could recollect any event which happened during the twenty-one years of which my life had been a blank.

Like a man under the influence of liquor I arose and staggered hurriedly forward until I reached the "L" station where I boarded a train and rode up to Eighty-first street. Here I alighted and walked rapidly over to the Seraglio Apartments. A vast crowd of curious people was collected about the place, and as I approached, all eyes were apparently turned upon me.

Hastening forward I bounded up the entrance steps and almost flew into the vestibule. There were little knots of people standing about the hallway, talking in low tones. Even their voices hushed as I hurried into the elevator and told the attendant to take me up to the eighth floor. The operator appeared to be almost frightened out of his wits at the sight of me, but after a momentary pause he ran the elevator to the eighth floor, peering at me all the time as he might have eyed a wild beast who was about to devour him. Many people were in the upper hall- way, but looking neither to the right nor to the left, I went straight to the door of the room I had entered the night I had taken Arletta home. Finding it locked, without a moment's hesitation I threw against it, all of the force my gigantic frame could command which caused it to give way and fly open before me. I then observed that there were several men in the room, in different positions and groups, as if making a study of the surroundings. Lying upon the bed, in the room adjoining, was the form of a woman partly covered by a spread, and being examined by a man who might have been the coroner. As I rushed forward like a madman, every one there became frightened and made way for me to pass.

Approaching the bed I eagerly scanned her features, and being positive of her identity I took the inanimate form of Arletta in my arms and kissing her tenderly, was overcome by emotion.

CHAPTER XXXIII

Arrested for the murder of Arletta Fogg, after being positively identified by the elevator attendant and the night watchman as being the only person who visited her apartments on the night of the crime, was the next incident of my strange career. Thrown into prison, and caged like a savage beast in a little cell hardly large enough to turn around in, has been my lot ever since that awful tragedy. The case attracted widespread interest, and the newspapers teemed with sensational accounts of it. At the trial, all of the evidence pointed directly to me as the perpetrator of the deed. The elevator operator swore that I was the man whom he had taken to Arletta's apartments shortly after eleven o'clock that night. The watchman testified that he saw me leave her room at three o'clock in the morning. On the stand, I was made to tell, under oath, that Arletta and I had been lovers; that we had been together that same night in the park, and had parted at about half past ten o'clock; that she had informed me of her intention to never see me again. By these statements the prosecuting attorney showed the motive for the crime. I could give no account of my time between half past ten that night and the next day at noon, which was another strong point against me. I had pleaded not guilty, feeling that as I knew nothing about the crime I could not very wisely do otherwise, but also, stating that I had suffered a temporary aberration of the mind during that time, and that if I really did commit the deed, which I could not believe possible, then I had done it in an entirely different character or personality from my normal self.

My attorney endeavored to have me sham insanity during the trial, and he became irritably insolent in his manner toward me because I positively refused to do so. He told me that if I stuck to the truth I would surely be convicted, but if I followed his advice by openly assuming idiotic tactics in court and making false statements under oath, according to his directions, he could save me without any trouble. He frequently growled and cursed at me for the straightforward way that I gave my testimony, claiming that his professional reputation was being ruined by my telling the truth. He privately acknowledged that, in his opinion, I was guilty, but that if he were successful in having me acquitted, he would achieve great fame thereby, and incidentally be able to increase the size of his future clients' fees.

It was proved in court-alas, the saddest blow I had yet received, that Arletta was a frivolous young woman, who practically lived a life of ease and luxury, by monetary gifts derived from two wealthy men, one a United States Senator and the other a prominent Wall Street financier, both being high pillars of the Church, and one of them being old enough to be her grandfather. That was the most painful testimony of the whole proceedings. It did not seem possible to me that the dear, sweet, innocent girl, whom I had loved so much for her gentleness and kindness of nature, could possibly lead such a dual existence, and I could not understand why she should have deceived me, with accounts of herself so at variance with the facts. When I thought of her as she had always appeared to me, excepting those times when I saw her under the influence of liquor, she seemed like a good angel, who was far beyond even the suspicion of reproach; and so when I learned the worst, I pictured her at her best, and my love remained unshaken. While I realized that it was the poor girl's weakness that led her into temptation, still it was plain to discern that the cause of her downfall was money and the miserable creatures who utilized it to buy her very life's blood and drag her along the mire of shame. The poor girl is dead, but the great men, through whose efforts she was disgraced, are still alive, and are considered eminently respectable by both the Church and the community. The curse of money could not have been more forcibly demonstrated than by this incident. The unfortunate young woman craved money, and sold herself for it. My deepest sympathy goes after her to the grave. The finger of scorn is now raised against Arletta by the whole world, but if she could be brought back to life again, I should gladly take her by the hand and say, that my love for her was as strong as ever, and that I would defend her against the insults of the depraved society which reared and educated her in the vices which it now deplores.

It took the jury just forty-five minutes to reach a decision against me. Ten minutes of this time, as I learned from newspaper accounts, were devoted to prayer, that the Almighty should point out the right way to decide the case. Evidently the god, to whom the jury prayed, demonstrated that it was their duty to convict me. For convict me they did, by bringing in a verdict of murder in the first degree. My sentence was that I pay the penalty of the crime with my life by being electrocuted.

The trial was severe and brutal from beginning to end, from my point of view. I was bullied by the prosecutor, scathingly censured by the judge, libeled by the press, cursed by the public, and deserted by my own attorney. I was treated like a cowardly beast of the most depraved type. But with all the abuse that was heaped upon me, I endured it without a murmur, calmly claiming that I was not responsible for the deed, but perfectly willing to take any punishment the law meted out to me. There was one thing, however, which stood out prominently amidst the many shoals of my misfortune, which made me feel that I had not lived in vain. My faithful little band of followers, whom I had taught the principles of Natural Law, remained loyal to me until the very end. Not one member of the society was there who would believe that I was guilty of such