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〃The Englishman answered quietly：
〃'Yes； but I was stronger than he。 I put on this chain to hold him。'
〃I thought that he was joking。 I said：
〃'This chain is useless now； the hand won't run away。'
〃Sir John Rowell answered seriously：
〃'It always wants to go away。 This chain is needed。'
〃I glanced at him quickly； questioning his face； and I asked myself：
〃'Is he an insane man or a practical joker？'
〃But his face remained inscrutable； calm and friendly。 I turned to other
subjects； and admired his rifles。
〃However； I noticed that he kept three loaded revolvers in the room； as
though constantly in fear of some attack。
〃I paid him several calls。 Then I did not go any more。 People had
become used to his presence； everybody had lost interest in him。
〃A whole year rolled by。 One morning； toward the end of November； my
servant awoke me and announced that Sir John Rowell had been murdered
during the night。
〃Half an hour later I entered the Englishman's house； together with the
police commissioner and the captain of the gendarmes。 The servant；
bewildered and in despair； was crying before the door。 At first I
suspected this man； but he was innocent。
〃The guilty party could never be found。
〃On entering Sir John's parlor； I noticed the body； stretched out on its
back； in the middle of the room。
〃His vest was torn； the sleeve of his jacket had been pulled off；
everything pointed to； a violent struggle。
〃The Englishman had been strangled！ His face was black； swollen and
frightful； and seemed to express a terrible fear。 He held something
between his teeth； and his neck； pierced by five or six holes which
looked as though they had been made by some iron instrument； was covered
with blood。
〃A physician joined us。 He examined the finger marks on the neck for a
long time and then made this strange announcement：
〃'It looks as though he had been strangled by a skeleton。'
〃A cold chill seemed to run down my back； and I looked over to where I
had formerly seen the terrible hand。 It was no longer there。 The chain
was hanging down； broken。
〃I bent over the dead man and； in his contracted mouth； I found one of
the fingers of this vanished hand； cutor rather sawed off by the teeth
down to the second knuckle。
〃Then the investigation began。 Nothing could be discovered。 No door；
window or piece of furniture had been forced。 The two watch dogs had not
been aroused from their sleep。
〃Here； in a few words； is the testimony of the servant：
〃For a month his master had seemed excited。 He had received many
letters； which he would immediately burn。
〃Often； in a fit of passion which approached madness； he had taken a
switch and struck wildly at this dried hand riveted to the wall； and
which had disappeared； no one knows how； at the very hour of the crime。
〃He would go to bed very late and carefully lock himself in。 He always
kept weapons within reach。 Often at night he would talk loudly； as
though he were quarrelling with some one。
〃That night； somehow； he had made no noise； and it was only on going to
open the windows that the servant had found Sir John murdered。 He
suspected no one。
〃I communicated what I knew of the dead man to the judges and public
officials。 Throughout the whole island a minute investigation was
carried on。 Nothing could be found out。
〃One night； about three months after the crime； I had a terrible
nightmare。 I seemed to see the horrible hand running over my curtains
and walls like an immense scorpion or spider。 Three times I awoke； three
times I went to sleep again； three times I saw the hideous object
galloping round my room and moving its fingers like legs。
〃The following day the hand was brought me； found in the cemetery； on the
grave of Sir John Rowell； who had been buried there because we had been
unable to find his family。 The first finger was missing。
〃Ladies； there is my story。 I know nothing more。〃
The women； deeply stirred； were pale and trembling。 One of them
exclaimed：
〃But that is neither a climax nor an explanation！ We will be unable to
sleep unless you give us your opinion of what had occurred。〃
The judge smiled severely：
〃Oh！ Ladies； I shall certainly spoil your terrible dreams。 I simply
believe that the legitimate owner of the hand was not dead； that he came
to get it with his remaining one。 But I don't know how。 It was a kind
of vendetta。〃
One of the women murmured：
〃No； it can't be that。〃
And the judge； still smiling； said：
〃Didn't I tell you that my explanation would not satisfy you？〃
A TRESS OF HAIR
The walls of the cell were bare and white washed。 A narrow grated
window； placed so high that one could not reach it； lighted this sinister
little room。 The mad inmate； seated on a straw chair； looked at us with
a fixed； vacant and haunted expression。 He was very thin； with hollow
cheeks and hair almost white； which one guessed might have turned gray in
a few months。 His clothes appeared to be too large for his shrunken
limbs； his sunken chest and empty paunch。 One felt that this man's mind
was destroyed； eaten by his thoughts； by one thought； just as a fruit is
eaten by a worm。 His craze； his idea was there in his brain； insistent；
harassing； destructive。 It wasted his frame little by little。 Itthe
invisible； impalpable； intangible； immaterial ideawas mining his
health； drinking his blood； snuffing out his life。
What a mystery was this man； being killed by an ideal！ He aroused
sorrow； fear and pity； this madman。 What strange； tremendous and deadly
thoughts dwelt within this forehead which they creased with deep wrinkles
which were never still？
〃He has terrible attacks of rage；〃 said the doctor to me。 〃His is one of
the most peculiar cases I have ever seen。 He has seizures of erotic and
macaberesque madness。 He is a sort of necrophile。 He has kept a journal
in which he sets forth his disease with the utmost clearness。 In it you
can； as it were； put your finger on it。 If it would interest you； you
may go over this document。〃
I followed the doctor into his office； where he handed me this wretched
man's diary； saying： 〃Read it and tell me what you think of it。〃
I read as follows：
〃Until the age of thirty…two I lived peacefully； without knowing love。
Life appeared very simple； very pleasant and very easy。 I was rich。
I enjoyed so many things that I had no passion for anything in
particular。 It was good to be alive！ I awoke happy every morning and
did those things that pleased me during the day and went to bed at night
contented； in the expectation of a peaceful tomorrow and a future without
anxiety。
〃I had had a few flirtations without my heart being touched by any true
passion or wounded by any of the sensations of true love。 It is good to
live like that。 It is better to love； but it is terrible。 And yet those
who love in the ordinary way must experience ardent happiness； though
less than mine possibly； for love came to me in a remarkable manner。
〃As I was wealthy； I bought all kinds of old furniture and old
curiosities； and I often thought of the unknown hands t