Revenge! | Page 2

no one can
tell just how far he will go. The mind is a delicate instrument, and even
the law recognises that it is easily thrown from its balance. Bodman's
friends--for he had friends--claim that his mind was unhinged; but
neither his friends nor his enemies suspected the truth of the episode,
which turned out to be the most important, as it was the most ominous,
event in his life.
Whether John Bodman was sane or insane at the time he made up his
mind to murder his wife, will never be known, but there was certainly
craftiness in the method he devised to make the crime appear the result
of an accident. Nevertheless, cunning is often a quality in a mind that
has gone wrong.
Mrs. Bodman well knew how much her presence afflicted her husband,
but her nature was as relentless as his, and her hatred of him was, if
possible, more bitter than his hatred of her. Wherever he went she
accompanied him, and perhaps the idea of murder would never have

occurred to him if she had not been so persistent in forcing her presence
upon him at all times and on all occasions. So, when he announced to
her that he intended to spend the month of July in Switzerland, she said
nothing, but made her preparations for the journey. On this occasion he
did not protest, as was usual with him, and so to Switzerland this silent
couple departed.
There is an hotel near the mountain-tops which stands on a ledge over
one of the great glaciers. It is a mile and a half above the level of the
sea, and it stands alone, reached by a toilsome road that zigzags up the
mountain for six miles. There is a wonderful view of snow-peaks and
glaciers from the verandahs of this hotel, and in the neighbourhood are
many picturesque walks to points more or less dangerous.
John Bodman knew the hotel well, and in happier days he had been
intimately acquainted with the vicinity. Now that the thought of murder
arose in his mind, a certain spot two miles distant from this inn
continually haunted him. It was a point of view overlooking everything,
and its extremity was protected by a low and crumbling wall. He arose
one morning at four o'clock, slipped unnoticed out of the hotel, and
went to this point, which was locally named the Hanging Outlook. His
memory had served him well. It was exactly the spot, he said to himself.
The mountain which rose up behind it was wild and precipitous. There
were no inhabitants near to overlook the place. The distant hotel was
hidden by a shoulder of rock. The mountains on the other side of the
valley were too far away to make it possible for any casual tourist or
native to see what was going on on the Hanging Outlook. Far down in
the valley the only town in view seemed like a collection of little toy
houses.
One glance over the crumbling wall at the edge was generally sufficient
for a visitor of even the strongest nerves. There was a sheer drop of
more than a mile straight down, and at the distant bottom were jagged
rocks and stunted trees that looked, in the blue haze, like shrubbery.
"This is the spot," said the man to himself, "and to-morrow morning is
the time."

John Bodman had planned his crime as grimly and relentlessly, and as
coolly, as ever he had concocted a deal on the Stock Exchange. There
was no thought in his mind of mercy for his unconscious victim. His
hatred had carried him far.
The next morning after breakfast, he said to his wife: "I intend to take a
walk in the mountains. Do you wish to come with me?"
"Yes," she answered briefly.
"Very well, then," he said; "I shall be ready at nine o'clock."
"I shall be ready at nine o'clock," she repeated after him.
At that hour they left the hotel together, to which he was shortly to
return alone. The spoke no word to each other on their way to the
Hanging Outlook. The path was practically level, skirting the
mountains, for the Hanging Outlook was not much higher above the sea
than the hotel.
John Bodman had formed no fixed plan for his procedure when the
place was reached. He resolved to be guided by circumstances. Now
and then a strange fear arose in his mind that she might cling to him
and possibly drag him over the precipice with her. He found himself
wondering whether she had any premonition of her fate, and one of his
reasons for not speaking was the fear that a tremor in his voice might
possibly arouse her suspicions. He resolved that his action