Library of the Worlds Best Mystery and Detective Stories | Page 6

did not know the negro doctor in the least, and was even able to assure
him that he was a fictitious personage, for, as she was well acquainted
with the upper classes in Hayti, she knew that the Academy of
Medicine at Port-au-Prince had no doctor of that name among its
members. As Monsieur de Vargnes persisted, and gave descriptions of
the doctor, especially mentioning his extraordinary eyes, Madame
Frogère began to laugh, and said:
"You have certainly had to do with a hoaxer, my dear monsieur. The

eyes which you have described are certainly those of a white man, and
the individual must have been painted."
On thinking it over, Monsieur de Vargnes remembered that the doctor
had nothing of the negro about him, but his black skin, his woolly hair
and beard, and his way of speaking, which was easily imitated, but
nothing of the negro, not even the characteristic, undulating walk.
Perhaps, after all, he was only a practical joker, and during the whole
day, Monsieur de Vargnes took refuge in that view, which rather
wounded his dignity as a man of consequence, but which appeased his
scruples as a magistrate.
The next day, he received the promised letter, which was written, as
well as addressed, in letters cut out of the newspapers. It was as
follows:
"MONSIEUR: Doctor James Ferdinand does not exist, but the man
whose eyes you saw does, and you will certainly recognize his eyes.
This man has committed two crimes, for which he does not feel any
remorse, but, as he is a psychologist, he is afraid of some day yielding
to the irresistible temptation of confessing his crimes. You know better
than anyone (and that is your most powerful aid), with what imperious
force criminals, especially intellectual ones, feel this temptation. That
great Poet, Edgar Poe, has written masterpieces on this subject, which
express the truth exactly, but he has omitted to mention the last
phenomenon, which I will tell you. Yes, I, a criminal, feel a terrible
wish for somebody to know of my crimes, and when this requirement is
satisfied, my secret has been revealed to a confidant, I shall be tranquil
for the future, and be freed from this demon of perversity, which only
tempts us once. Well! Now that is accomplished. You shall have my
secret; from the day that you recognize me by my eyes, you will try and
find out what I am guilty of, and how I was guilty, and you will
discover it, being a master of your profession, which, by the by, has
procured you the honor of having been chosen by me to bear the weight
of this secret, which now is shared by us, and by us two alone. I say,
advisedly, by us two alone. You could not, as a matter of fact, prove the
reality of this secret to anyone, unless I were to confess it, and I defy

you to obtain my public confession, as I have confessed it to you, and
without danger to myself."
Three months later, Monsieur de Vargnes met Monsieur X---- at an
evening party, and at first sight, and without the slightest hesitation, he
recognized in him those very pale, very cold, and very clear blue eyes,
eyes which it was impossible to forget.
The man himself remained perfectly impassive, so that Monsieur de
Vargnes was forced to say to himself:
"Probably I am the sport of an hallucination at this moment, or else
there are two pairs of eyes that are perfectly similar in the world. And
what eyes! Can it be possible?"
The magistrate instituted inquiries into his life, and he discovered this,
which removed all his doubts.
Five years previously, Monsieur X---- had been a very poor, but very
brilliant medical student, who, although he never took his doctor's
degree, had already made himself remarkable by his microbiological
researches.
A young and very rich widow had fallen in love with him and married
him. She had one child by her first marriage, and in the space of six
months, first the child and then the mother died of typhoid fever, and
thus Monsieur X---- had inherited a large fortune, in due form, and
without any possible dispute. Everybody said that he had attended to
the two patients with the utmost devotion. Now, were these two deaths
the two crimes mentioned in his letter?
But then, Monsieur X---- must have poisoned his two victims with the
microbes of typhoid fever, which he had skillfully cultivated in them,
so as to make the disease incurable, even by the most devoted care and
attention. Why not?
"Do you believe it?" I asked Monsieur de Vargnes.

"Absolutely," he replied. "And the most terrible thing about it is, that
the villain is right when he defies me