John led the way up the stairs, saying briefly, "Come." The Dietmans
followed in bewilderment.
"There he is," said John, pointing to the tall figure, rigid, under the
close-drawn white folds; "we found him here only an hour ago, hung from
the beam."
A horror-stricken silence fell on the group.
Hans spoke first. "He know dat we know; so he kill himself to save dat
de hangman have trouble."
John resented the flippant tone. He understood now the whole mystery of
Wilhelm's life in this house.
"He has never known a happy minute since he was here," he said. "He
never smiled; nor spoke, if he could help it. Only last night, after he
came back from your place, he laughed and sang, and was merry, and
looked like another man; and he bade us all good-night over and over,
and shook hands with every one. He had made up his mind, you see, that
the end had come, and it was nothing but a relief to him. He was glad to
die. He had not courage before. But now he knew he would be arrested he
had courage to kill himself. Poor fellow, I pity him!" And John smoothed
out the white folds over the clasped hands on the quiet-stricken breast,
resting at last.
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