Bucholz and the Detectives

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"Curse you, Henry Schulte! Be on your guard, for if I live, you will
know what it is to suffer for what you have done this night. Enjoy
yourself and your victory while you can, but there will come a time
when you would rather be dead than the miserable thing I will make
you. Curse you! Curse you!"

Having relieved the exuberance of his passion in this manner, he
silently resumed his journey, and reaching his home retired at once
to his room, and throwing himself upon the bed, he gave himself up to
the devilish meditations which filled his mind.

Ah, Nat Toner, far better for you, for that happy village of Hagen,
and for the future happiness of two loving hearts, if to-night the
lightning's flash had sent its deadly stroke through your murderous
heart and laid you lifeless upon the road.

As may be imagined, the news of the encounter between Henry Schulte
and Nat Toner was noised about the village, and during the next day
the matter became the universal theme of conversation. It was
astonishing, however, to remark the unanimity of opinion which
prevailed with regard to it. The entire community with one accord
united in condemning the insult and applauding its resentment; and
when Nat Toner made his appearance the following day, bearing upon
his face the marks of the punishment he had received, he was greeted
with cold salutations and marked evidence of avoidance by those who
heretofore had been disposed to be friendly, and even gracious.

This only intensified his anger at the cause of his humiliation, but
he concealed his emotions and shortly afterwards returned to his
home.

The anxiety of Emerence for the safety of her lover was most
profound, and trembling with fear of the threatened revenge of Nat
Toner, for his oath had also been repeated, she besought Henry to be
watchful and cautious of his unscrupulous adversary, all of which he
laughingly and assuringly promised to do. Not so much for his own
security, of which he had no fear, as for the sake of the dear girl
who was so solicitous for his welfare, and to whom his safety was a
matter of so much importance.

The next few days passed uneventfully away, Nat remaining at home,
nursing his wrath and the wounds upon his face, and Henry Schulte
attending to his various duties upon the farm. The quarrel finally
ceased to be a matter of remark, and the simple-minded villagers,
believing that Nat's threats were only the utterances of a man crazed
with drink, and smarting under the punishment he had received,
quieted their fears and resumed their ordinary peaceful and contented
mode of living.

To Nat Toner the days passed all too slowly, but with the
slowly-moving hours, in the seclusion of his own home, and his own
evil thoughts, his revenge became the one object of his life. His
reckless, vagabond existence of the past few years, during which it
was hinted by several of the villagers, with many shrugs of their
shoulders and wise noddings of their venerable heads, he had been
engaged in the service of a bold and successful French smuggler, had
not tended to elevate his mind, or to humanize his disposition. His
depraved nature and vicious habits were roused into full action by
this encounter with Henry Schulte, and the anger of his heart was in
no wise lessened, as he reflected that he had brought his injuries
upon himself. All the brutal instincts of his degraded disposition
were aflame, and he resolved that his revenge for the indignities
that had been put upon him, should be full and complete.

With a fiendish malignity he determined to strike at the heart of his
antagonist through the person of the object of his love, and by that
means to be revenged upon both.

CHAPTER XI.

_A Moonlight Walk._--_An Unexpected Meeting._--_The Murder of
Emerence Bauer._--_The Oath Fulfilled._

On a beautiful moonlight evening, about a week after the hostile
meeting of Henry Schulte and Nat Toner, Emerence, all impatient to
meet her lover, whom she had not seen for some days, and whom she
fondly expected this evening, left the residence of her parents and
walked towards a little stream that ran along the outskirts of the
village, where she had been in the habit of meeting Henry upon the
occasions of his visits.

The evening was a delightful one, and the scene one of surpassingly
romantic beauty. The bright rays of the moon sparkled and danced upon
the rippling water; the border of grand old trees that fringed the
bank of the stream was reflected with exaggerated beauty far down
among the waters; the glittering stars stole in and out among their
branches, and shone in the clear crystal mirror. Now a fleecy speck
of cloud floated over the face of the Queen of Night, from behind
which she would soon emerge, with increased brilliancy, to dart her
long arrowy beams away down to the pebbly bottom of the flowing
river, kissing the fairies that the old German legends tell us dwelt
there in the days of old.

Silently, but with happy heart and beaming eyes, the young girl gazed
upon the scene that lay before her; then, walking to the center of
the rustic bridge that spanned the stream from shore to shore, she
leaned over the low railing and watched, with her mind teeming with
pleasant visions of the future, her figure reflected as in a
burnished mirror, upon the water beneath her.

Her sweet reverie was interrupted by the sound of approaching
footsteps, and a blush illumined her face as she thought she would
soon greet her coming lover, and feel his strong arms about her.
Turning her head a little, she saw another shadow there so distinctly
traced that she had no difficulty in recognizing it, and she started
in affright as she discovered that instead of Henry Schulte, the
new-comer was none other than his enemy and hers, Nat Toner.

She would have yielded to an intuitive sense of danger, and fled from
the spot, but Nat stepped quickly in the way and barred her passage,
lifting his hat in mock reverence as he addressed her.

"Good evening, pretty Emerence, you look like a beautiful water
sprite in the rays of this bright-beaming moon."

Did she imagine it, or was there a cold, hard ring in the voice that
uttered these words, which filled her heart with an aching fear, and
made her lips tremble as she acknowledged his salutation?

"You are waiting for Henry Schulte, I suppose!" he continued, in the
same hard, mocking tone.

Mustering up all the latent courage which she possessed, she looked
up unflinchingly, as she replied:

"I do not know that anyone has a right to question me upon my
movements, or to assign a reason for my actions."

"Indeed, my pretty little spit-fire! You speak truly, but Nat Toner
intends to assume a right which no one else possesses," answered Nat
tauntingly, while his black eyes glistened in the moonlight with a
baleful light.

"I cannot stop to listen further to such language, and must bid you
good evening," said Emerence, drawing herself up haughtily, and
turning to leave the bridge.

"Stop where you are and listen to me," cried Nat sharply, and with
his right hand he grasped the wrist of the shrinking girl.

"Nat Toner!" at last said Emerence boldly, "remove your hand from my
wrist, or I will call for help, and then perhaps your conduct will
meet with its just punishment."

"Utter one word, at your peril. I have something to say to you, and
you must listen to me," said Nat, releasing his hold, and glaring
fiercely at the brave girl who stood before him.

"I will listen to nothing further from you to-night. Stand aside and
let me pass," said Emerence firmly, and again turning to leave the
bridge.

"Emerence Bauer, listen to me I say. I have something to tell you
that concerns that lover of yours, Henry Schulte, and you shall hear
what I have to say."

At the mention of Henry's name Emerence stopped, and thinking that
perhaps she might serve her lover by remaining, she said:

"I will hear you, Nat Toner, but be as brief as possible."

"Aha! for the sake of your dear Henry, you will listen to me. I
thought so. Do you know that he is my enemy till death; that the
insults which he has heaped upon me can only be washed away by blood;
and that you, my haughty beauty, alone can satisfy the hate I bear to
Henry Schulte and the revenge I have sworn against him?"

"Nat Toner, what do you mean?" tremblingly inquired the affrighted
girl, unable to stir.

Ah, well might she tremble now! There was murder in the flashing of
those wicked black eyes that glared upon her, and the distorted,
pallid face before her showed too plainly the passions of his heart,
as he answered:

"What do I mean? I will tell you! I loved you, Emerence Bauer, and I
hate Henry Schulte for the insult he has put upon me. You scorn my
love, and Henry Schulte must pay the penalty. He shall never possess
you, for--I mean to kill you!"

With a wild shriek, that rang through the air as the cry of a
frightened bird, Emerence turned to flee from the fiend before her.
But, alas, too late! The murderous weapon came down with a dull,
heavy crushing sound upon that fair, girlish head, and she fell
lifeless at the feet of the madman who had slain her.

[Illustration: "_She fell lifeless at the feet of the madman who
had slain her._"]

Without uttering a word Nat Toner lifted up the body of the
unfortunate girl and threw it over the low railing of the bridge into
the rippling water beneath. A splash followed that sent the water in
brightly burnished crystals high in the air--and then the river
flowed on, as though unconscious and uncaring for the burden that had
been committed to its keeping.

Raising himself to his full height and shaking his blood-red hand in
the direction of the village, Nat Toner cried out with demoniac
exultation:

"Now, Henry Schulte, I am revenged!"

Saying which, he plunged into a strip of woods that grew near by, and
disappeared from view.

Oh, shimmering moon, did no pitying glance fall from thy cold, bright
face as this fair, young life was cruelly beaten out by the hand of
her brutal assassin? Oh, glittering stars, did no dark clouds
intervene between thy merry twinklings and the dreadful scene below?
And ye, oh, rippling river, did no murmur escape thee as the crimson
tide of this fair dead girl mingled with thy transparent waves and
floated away into the darkness of the night?

CHAPTER XII.

_The Search for the Missing Girl._--_The Lover's Judgment._--_Henry
Schulte's Grief._--_The Genial Farmer becomes the Grasping Miser._

Half an hour later, Henry Schulte, who had been delayed beyond his
wont in the village, came walking briskly along the road that led to
the abode of Emerence. His heart was gay, and a blithe, merry song
rose to his lips as he journeyed along. All unconscious of the dark
deed that had been committed, he stood upon the rustic bridge, where
he had expected to meet his betrothed, and gazed at the beauty of the
landscape that was spread before him. No sound came from that
gurgling stream, to tell the impatient lover of the fate of her he
loved, and little did he dream, as he stood there in quiet
contemplation of the glorious night, that directly beneath his feet,
with her calm, dead face upturned towards him, could be seen,
through the transparent waters, the lifeless body of the fair maiden,
whose head had nestled on his bosom and whose loving lips had made
him happy with their kisses of love.

Ah, nevermore for thee will the bright moon shine in its translucent
splendor, and never again will you know the happiness and the peace
of this beautiful evening, as you waited on that bridge for her who
nevermore would come to your call again.

After waiting a short time, and not hearing the footsteps of his
affianced, Henry resumed his journey and soon arrived at the
residence of the wealthy brewer, whose hospitable doors flew open at
his knock, and the mother of Emerence stood in the low, broad
passage-way.

"Where is Emerence?" quickly inquired the mother of the girl, in
surprise, at seeing him alone.

"Emerence! Is she not at home?" exclaimed Henry, equally surprised.

"No," replied the mother. "She went out about an hour ago, to meet
you on the way."

Henry immediately became alarmed. He had not seen her, and it seemed
incredible that she could have gone to visit any friends on the
evening when she expected him, and certainly not without informing
her parents of the fact.

"I will go at once in search of her," he said, as he turned away from
the house, and hurriedly retraced his steps towards the village, with
a terrible fear for her safety pressing upon his heart.

He inquired at every house where her friends resided, but everywhere
was met with a wondering negative. No one appeared to have seen her,
or to know anything of her whereabouts, and at length, wearied with
his fruitless inquiries, and rendered almost desperate at his want of
success, he went to the village tavern, and requested the aid of his
comrades in searching for the missing girl, for whose safety and
happiness he would willingly have laid down his life.

In a moment all was bustle and excitement; torches were procured and
the party started upon their mission, resolved to discover some clue
of the missing lady before the dawning of another day. Henry was in
advance, and under his direction every part of the road which led
from the residence of the brewer to the village, and the adjacent
woods, were carefully examined, but all with no success. No trace
could be discovered, and the superstitious villagers began to regard
the disappearance as a supernatural mystery.

Utterly fatigued with their bootless investigation, and saddened by
the thought that some harm must have come to the innocent maiden,
they reluctantly left the house of the brewer and turned their
footsteps towards the village, determined to continue their search in
the morning. To Henry the suspense was agonizing. He seemed almost
crazed at the uncertainty which shrouded the fate of the girl he
loved so dearly, and he vainly attempted to discover some solution of
the awful mystery.

As the silent party were crossing the bridge, they stopped for a
temporary rest before proceeding further on their way, and indulged
in subdued conversation upon the mystery which thus far had defied
their efforts to solve.

Suddenly they were startled by an exclamation from one of their
number, who, on looking casually over the railing into the stream
beneath, discovered in the bright reflection of the brilliant moon,
the figure of the murdered girl lying in the shallow water. With an
agonizing cry Henry sprang into the river, and in a few moments
clasped the lifeless body in his strong arms and bore her to the
shore.

It was too true--the pale, beautiful features that met their
frightened gaze were none other than those of the village
beauty--Emerence, and a stillness like that of death fell upon the
assembly as they looked upon her.

At first it was supposed that she had been accidentally drowned, but
upon the lights being brought, and that cruel blow upon the head
being discovered, each one looked at the other, and the words burst
almost simultaneously from the lips of all:

"_Nat Toner!_"

After the first cry which escaped him, Henry Schulte never spoke
again during that painful time, but with reverent hands he smoothed
the wet drapery about her shapely limbs, and closed the great staring
eyes, which, when he last looked upon them, were full of love, and
hope, and happiness--and then, as the men gathered up the fair form
and bore it to her once happy home, he followed silently, and with
faltering steps.

It had needed no words from the villagers to tell him of the author
of this crime. Before they had spoken, his own mind had discovered
the murderer, and he had resolved upon the course to be pursued, and
when, immediately after the sad funeral rites had been performed, and
the body of the fair young Emerence had been placed in the ground,
Henry disappeared from the village, one and all felt that the mission
he had gone upon was a righteous one, and no one disputed his right
to go.

At the end of a month he returned, but with a face so changed that he
was scarcely recognized. The happy light was gone forever from his
eyes, and the hard stern lines about the mouth told the sad story of
long suffering, and of a harsh judgment that had been fulfilled.

No one questioned him upon his journey, or its result, and he gave no
explanations, but when some weeks later a party of hunters in the
forests on the mountains, near Werne, discovered the lifeless body of
Nat Toner, with his pistol by his side, and a bullet-hole through the
low, white forehead, the villagers felt that Henry's search had not
been in vain, or his revenge incomplete.

To this day no one can tell, whether, suffering the pangs of remorse,
the miserable man had put an end to his own life, or whether the
wound in the low, white forehead was planted there by the man whom he
had so dreadfully wronged.

No inquiries were made, however, and as time passed on, the history
of Nat Toner passed out of the conversations of the simple
village-folk, and, save as it was occasionally recalled by some
romantic and unfortunate event abroad, was never mentioned.

To Henry Schulte the record of that sad night was always present, and
was never effaced from his memory. The change that was wrought in him
was apparent to all. He no longer mingled with the villagers in their
merry-makings, but isolated himself entirely from their meetings and
their pleasures.

A few years afterwards his parents died, and his elder brother
assuming the control of the farm and estates of his father, Henry
removed to the farm where we now find him, and to the lowly cottage
which he had occupied to the time of which we write. He became a
settled misanthropist, whose only aim in life seemed to be the
acquirement of wealth, and whose once genial and generous nature had
now become warped into the selfishness and avarice of the miser.

So he had lived, a social hermit, until in 1845 he had become a
prematurely old man, with whitened hair and furrowed brow, whose love
for gold had become the passion of his life, and whose only
companions were a hired man and the old violin with which, in his
younger days, he was wont to make merry music at the festivals in the
village, but which now was tuned to mournful harmonies "cadenced by
his grief."

CHAPTER XIII.

_Henry Schulte becomes the Owner of "Alten Hagen."_-_Surprising
Increase in Wealth._--_An Imagined Attack upon His Life._--_The Miser
Determines to Sail for America._

It was at this time that the projected railroad between Dortmund and
Dusseldorf began to assume definite proportions, and as the line of
the contemplated road lay through the village of Hagen, much
excitement was engendered in consequence.

The people of Dortmund were building extravagant castles in the air,
and wild and vague were the dreams which filled their sanguine minds
as they contemplated the advantages that were to accrue to them upon
the completion of this enterprise.

The contagion spread rapidly to Hagen, and the simple-minded
villagers, who saw in this movement the rapid growth of their little
town; the possible increase in the value of their property and the
consequent augmenting of their now limited fortunes, hailed with
delight the information that energetic operations would soon be
begun, with the view of successfully accomplishing the desired
object.

Not so, however, thought the Baron von Lindenthal, whose vast estate
lay in close proximity to the village, immediately adjoining the farm
owned and occupied by Henry Schulte, and through whose domain the
road must necessarily pass.

To him the idea of encroaching upon the ancestral acres of a von
Lindenthal, was an act of sacrilege not to be complacently submitted
to. The quiet and peaceful seclusion in which he and those who had
preceded him had lived, and the repose of his declining years was to
be disturbed by the whistling of the locomotive and the rattle of the
train. The din, and bustle and activity of trade was to be brought to
his very threshold, and the ease and comfort of his aristocratic
retirement would soon become a thing of the past. This must not and
could not be permitted, and the blood of the patrician boiled within
his noble veins as he contemplated the outrage that thus threatened
him, and which was to result in laying profane hands upon his
possessions. Improvements were all very well in their way, but then
they must not be of such a character as to interfere with the
pleasure or the luxurious ease of the Baron von Lindenthal. His
comfort and happiness were things to be considered far above the
material growth of a commercial town, and were not to be subordinated
to the welfare of its ambitious inhabitants.

But then, as now, the march of public improvement was not to be
retarded, and so, finding it impossible to successfully oppose or to
prevent the building of the objectionable railroad, the incensed
Baron very reluctantly determined to dispose of his baronial estates
and to remove to a more congenial locality, where the encroachments
of trade were not to be feared, and where, in undisturbed seclusion
and retirement, he might pass the remainder of his days.

With the irascible and impetuous Baron, the formation of an opinion
led to immediate action, and no sooner had he resolved to the
satisfaction of his own mind to dispose of his broad acres, than he
began to look about him for a purchaser.

When Henry Schulte heard of this intention of the Baron, he
determined, if possible, to become the owner of this extensive
demesne. His mind was sufficiently alive to the importance of this
railroad movement to convince him that the real estate in proximity
to the line of the road must necessarily increase in value, and he
also realized the necessity of seeing the Baron without delay, in
order to precede any of the railroad contractors, who would no doubt
present themselves ere long.

He consequently waited upon the irate Baron on the morning following,
and upon being ushered into the presence of the last of the von
Lindenthals, at once broached the subject of his desire to purchase
the land.

The gouty old land-owner looked with astonishment as his
shabbily-dressed visitor proffered his request. He had never imagined
that his unobtrusive neighbor was possessed of any money besides his
farm, and the proposition to become the purchaser of "Alten-Hagen"
was a complete surprise to him.

The Baron did not know of the hours of patient toil, nor of the
habits of miserly economy which had enabled Henry Schulte to
accumulate so large a sum of money as to warrant him in entertaining
the desire to increase his estate; nor did he know that his
economical neighbor could see further into the future, and better
appreciate the advantages which would accrue to him from the
possession of this additional property, than could their present
aristocratic owner.

However, the Baron lost no time in idle speculations as to the means
by which his visitor had grown wealthy. His land was for sale, a
purchaser stood before him, and in a short time the wealthy miser
became the owner of the Baron's land for a price entirely inadequate
to the value which he received. When, a few weeks later, the question
of appropriating the land and allowing the damage therefor came to be
considered, the railroad company were required to treat with the
miser of Hagen instead of the Baron von Lindenthal.

The wisdom and foresight displayed by Henry Schulte in becoming the
purchaser of this estate was very soon clearly demonstrated, for in a
very short time afterwards he received from the railroad company, as
damages and for the right of way through his grounds, more than the
sum he had originally paid to the impulsive Baron for the fee of the
entire estate.

A few years after this several coal mines were opened in the
vicinity, iron works were erected, and as Hagen became a thriving,
flourishing city it naturally extended its industries. Henry
Schulte's newly acquired property then became available for the
erection of iron works and coal breakers, and his wealth was
considerably increased by these means. A division of a part of his
land into building lots, on the main road from Herdecke to Hagen,
also swelled the volume of his increasing revenue. It seemed that he
had suddenly fallen upon the wave of advancing fortune, for soon
after this some parts of the soil being found to be of excellent
quality for brick-making, he entered into arrangements with some
extensive manufacturers and received a large sum for the use and
occupation of his grounds for that purpose.

Thus, in a very few years, the patient, plodding, avaricious farmer
found himself one of the wealthiest men in the locality. This fact,
however, produced no change in his habits or his dress, nor did his
mode of living undergo any improvement consequent upon the changed
condition of his circumstances. This vast accumulation of money only
seemed to intensify his avarice, to increase his meanness, and the
desire for gain became the ruling passion of his heart and mind. He
removed to the large and imposing mansion lately occupied by the
Baron, but this was done simply because he could find no other
occupant for it; while he could readily procure a tenant for the
little cottage where he had previously resided.

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