And now, too, the
facts of the past night, as they became known, seemed to make the
crime more wonderful, more exciting, more momentous than it would
have been had it been brought clearly home to such a wretch as the
Bohemian Jew, Yosef Mealyus, who had contrived to cheat that wretched
Lizzie Eustace into marrying him.
As regarded Yosef Mealyus the story now told respecting him was this.
He was already in custody. He had been found in bed at his lodgings
between seven and eight, and had, of course, given himself up without
difficulty. He had seemed to be horror-struck when he heard of the
man's death,--but had openly expressed his joy. "He has endeavoured
to ruin me, and has done me a world of harm. Why should I sorrow for
him?"--he said to the policeman when rebuked for his inhumanity. But
nothing had been found tending to implicate him in the crime. The
servant declared that he had gone to bed before eleven o'clock, to
her knowledge,--for she had seen him there,--and that he had not
left the house afterwards.
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