Penny Blood Serial Cover — page 109: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

7 Ev ees Fs ALFRED DE ROSANN. 101 cure money upon: they were most probably family documents. My rage and horror, singularly blended together, knew no bounds; I had committed an enor- mous crime, and had reaped no benefit; my soul was stained with blood, and the bait that had allured me to so dreadful a deed, had eluded my grasp. In vain I searched the apartments—the murdered man’s per- son—the bed linen—all was to no purpose; the money was not there. What could he have done with it? I recollected that Gustave occasionally went out late at night; perhaps he had despatched the trea- sure to another land. Vain and useless conjectures! for there was one glaring, damning truth ever pre- sent to my faithful memory—a truth which no argu- ment could controvert—that I had deprived an ex- cellent and generous being of his life! I scarcely knew what I was doing, nor what was to be done. To remain there with the body was impossible; to dispose of it for any length of time was equally diffi- cult. In my desperation I resolved to fly from the hated spot. I accordingly rifled the pockets of the deceased, took what little money I myself possessed, and—God knows why—putting the Marquis’s papers in my pocket, perhaps with a distant hope that on ex- amination by a person who could read, and to whom I could entrust my secret, something might be de- veloped by them—lI left Paris, and took the road to St. Malo, intending to embark for Guernsey, and thence seek the shores of England. I halted within a few miles of the town, and obtained a night’s lodg- ing in a farm-house situate at a little distance from the mainroad. Having carefully concealed the Marquis’s documents in an old cupboard that stood near the chimney of the room to which I was shown, I lay down to rest: but no sleep visited my eyes—horrible ideas oppressed me—and the ghost of the murdered man seemed to haunt my bed-side. In the morning I was arrested; the police had followed on my track but too well—and I was conveyed to a gaol. Despite of my unceasing declarations of innocence, I was g* CORMICLOOOKS & (C@)