Shortly after my education at college was finished, I happened to be staying at Paris with an English
friend. We were both young men then, and lived, I am afraid, rather a wild life, in the delightful city of
our sojourn. One night we were idling about the neighborhood of the Palais Royal, doubtful to what
amusement we should next betake ourselves. My friend proposed a visit to Frascatis; but his suggestion
was not to my taste. I knew Frascatis, as the French saying is, by heart; had lost and won plenty of five-
franc pieces there, merely for amusements sake, until it was amusement no longer, and was thoroughly
tired, in fact, of all the ghastly respectabilities of such a social anomaly as a respectable gambling-house.
For Heavens sake, said I to my friend, let us go somewhere where we can see a little genuine, blackguard,
poverty-stricken gaming, with no false gingerbread glitter thrown over it at all. Let us get away from
fashionable Frascatis, to a house where they dont mind letting in a man with a ragged coat, or a man
with no coat, ragged or otherwise.
Very well, said my friend, we neednt go out of the Palais Royal to find the sort of company you want.
Heres the place just before us; as blackguard a place, by all report, as you could possibly wish to see.
In another minute we arrived at the door, and entered the house.
When we got upstairs, and had left our hats and sticks with the door-keeper, we were admitted into the
chief gambling-room. We did not find many people assembled there. But, few as the men were who
looked up at us on our entrance, they were all typeslamentably true typesof their respective classes.
We had come to see blackguards; but these men were something worse. There is a comic side, more
or less appreciable, in all black-guardism: here there was nothing but tragedymute, weird tragedy. The
quiet in the room was horrible. The thin, haggard, long-haired young man, whose sunken eyes fiercely
watched the turning up of the cards, never spoke; the flabby, fat-faced, pimply player, who pricked his
piece of pasteboard perseveringly, to register how often black won, and how often red, never spoke; the
dirty, wrinkled old man, with the vulture eyes and the darned great-coat, who had lost his last sou, and
still looked on desperately after he could play no longer, never spoke. Even the voice of the croupier
sounded as if it were strangely dulled and thickened in the atmosphere of the room. I had entered the
place to laugh, but the spectacle before me was something to weep over. I soon found it necessary
to take refuge in excitement from the depression of spirits which was stealing on me. Unfortunately I
sought the nearest excitement, by going to the table and beginning to play. Still more unfortunately, as
the event will show, I wonwon prodigiously; won incredibly; won at such a rate that the regular players
at the table crowded round me; and staring at my stakes with hungry, superstitious eyes, whispered to
one another that the English stranger was going to break the bank.
The game was Rouge et Noir. I had played at it in every city in Europe, without, however, the care or
the wish to study the Theory of Chancesthat philosophers stone of all gamblers! And a gambler, in
the strict sense of the word, I had never been. I was heart-whole from the corroding passion for play.
My gaming was a mere idle amusement. I never resorted to it by necessity, because I never knew what
it was to want money. I never practised it so incessantly as to lose more than I could afford, or to gain
more than I could coolly pocket without being thrown off my balance by my good luck. In short, I had
hitherto frequented gambling-tablesjust as I frequented ball-rooms and opera-housesbecause they
amused me, and because I had nothing better to do with my leisure hours.
But on this occasion it was very differentnow, for the first time in my life, I felt what the passion for
play really was. My successes first bewildered, and then, in the most literal meaning of the word, intoxicated
me. Incredible as it may appear, it is nevertheless true, that I only lost when I attempted to estimate
chances, and played according to previous calculation. If I left everything to luck, and staked without
any care or consideration, I was sure to winto win in the face of every recognized probability in favor
of the bank. At first some of the men present ventured their money safely enough on my color; but I
speedily increased my stakes to sums which they dared not risk. One after another they left off playing,
and breathlessly looked on at my game.
Still, time after time, I staked higher and higher, and still won. The excitement in the room rose to fever
pitch. The silence was interrupted by a deep-muttered chorus of oaths and exclamations in different
languages, every time the gold was shoveled across to my side of the tableeven the imperturbable
croupier dashed his rake on the floor in a (French) fury of astonishment at my success. But one man
present preserved his self-possession, and that man was my friend. He came to my side, and whispering
in English, begged me to leave the place, satisfied with what I had already gained. I must do him the
justice to say that he repeated his warnings and entreaties several times, and only left me and went
away, after I had rejected his advice (I was to all intents and purposes gambling drunk) in terms which
rendered it impossible for him to address me again that night.
Shortly after he had gone, a hoarse voice behind me cried, Permit me, my dear sirpermit me to restore
to their proper place, two napoleons which you have dropped. Wonderful luck, sir! I pledge you my
word of honor, as an old soldier, in the course of my long experience in this sort of thing, I never saw
such luck as yoursnever! Go on, sir Sacre mille bombes! Go on boldly, and break the bank!
I turned round and saw, nodding and smiling at me with inveterate civility, a tall man, dressed in a frogged
and braided surtout.
If I had been in my senses, I should have considered him, personally, as being rather a suspicious specimen
of an old soldier. He had goggling, bloodshot eyes, mangy mustaches, and a broken nose. His voice
betrayed a barrack-room intonation of the worst order, and he had the dirtiest pair of hands I ever saweven
in France. These little personal peculiarities exercised, however, no repelling influence on me. In
the mad excitement, the reckless triumph of that moment, I was ready to fraternize with anybody who
encouraged me in my game. I accepted the old soldiers offered pinch of snuff; clapped him on the back,
and swore he was the honestest fellow in the worldthe most glorious relic of the Grand Army that I
had ever met with. Go on! cried my military friend, snapping his fingers in ecstasyGo on, and win!
Break the bankMille tonnerres! my gallant English comrade, break the bank!
And I did go onwent on at such a rate, that in another quarter of an hour the croupier called out,
Gentlemen, the bank has discontinued for to-night. All the notes, and all the gold in that bank, now
lay in a heap under my hands; the whole floating capital of the gambling house was waiting to pour into
Tie up the money in your pocket-handkerchief, my worthy sir, said the old soldier, as I wildly plunged
my hands into my heap of gold. Tie it up, as we used to tie up a bit of dinner in the Grand Army; your
winnings are too heavy for any breeches-pockets that ever were sewed. There! thats itshovel them
in, notes and all! Credie! what luck! Stop! another napoleon on the floor. Ah! sacre petit polisson de
Napoleon! have I found thee at last? Now then, sirtwo tight double knots each way with your honorable
permission, and the moneys safe. Feel it! feel it, fortunate sir! hard and round as a cannon-ballÀ bas
if they had only fired such cannon-balls at us at Austerlitznom dune pipe! if they only had! And now,
as an ancient grenadier, as an ex-brave of the French army, what remains for me to do? I ask what?
Simply this, to entreat my valued English friend to drink a bottle of champagne with me, and toast the
goddess Fortune in foaming goblets before we part!
Excellent ex-brave! Convivial ancient grenadier! Champagne by all means! An English cheer for an old
soldier! Hurrah! hurrah! Another English cheer for the goddess Fortune! Hurrah, hurrah! hurrah!
Bravo! the Englishman; the amiable, gracious Englishman, in whose veins circulates the vivacious blood
of France! Another glass? À bas!the bottle is empty! Never mind! Vive le vin! I, the old soldier,
order another bottle, and half a pound of bonbons with it!
No, no, ex-brave; neverancient grenadier! Your bottle last time; my bottle this! Behold it! Toast away!
The French Army! the great Napoleon! the present company! the croupier! the honest croupiers wife
and daughtersif he has any! the ladies generally! everybody in the world!
By the time the second bottle of champagne was emptied, I felt as if I had been drinking liquid firemy
brain seemed all aflame. No excess in wine had ever had this effect on me before in my life. Was it the
result of a stimulant acting upon my system when I was in a highly excited state? Was my stomach in a
particularly disordered condition? Or was the champagne amazingly strong?
Ex-brave of the French Army! cried I, in a mad state of exhilaration, I am on fire! how are you? You
have set me on fire! Do you hear, my hero of Austerlitz? Let us have a third bottle of champagne to put
the flame out!
The old soldier wagged his head, rolled his goggle-eyes, until I expected to see them slip out of their
sockets; placed his dirty forefinger by the side of his broken nose; solemnly ejaculated Coffee! and immediately
ran off into an inner room.
The word pronounced by the eccentric veteran seemed to have a magical effect on the rest of the company
present. With one accord they all rose to depart. Probably they had expected to profit by my intoxication; but
finding that my new friend was benevolently bent on preventing me from getting dead drunk, had now
abandoned all hope of thriving pleasantly on my winnings. Whatever their motive might be, at any rate
they went away in a body. When the old soldier returned and sat down again opposite to me at the
table, we had the room to ourselves. I could see the croupier, in a sort of vestibule which opened out
of it, eating his supper in solitude. The silence was now deeper than ever.
A sudden change, too, had come over the ex-brave. Heassumed a portentously solemn look; and when
he spoke to me again, his speech was ornamented by no oaths, enforced by no finger-snapping, enlivened
by no apostrophes or exclamations.
Listen, my dear sir, said he, in mysteriously confidential tones listen to an old soldiers advice. I
have been to the mistress of the house (a very charming woman, with a genius for cookery!) to impress
on the the necessity of making us some particularly strong and good coffee. You must drink this coffee
in order to get rid of your little amiable exaltation of spirits before you think of going homeyou must,
my good and gracious friend! With all that money to take home tonight, it is a sacred duty to yourself to
have your wits about you. You are known to be a winner to an enormous extent by several gentlemen
present to-night, who, in a certain point of view, are very worthy and excellent fellows; but they are mortal
men, my dear sir, and they have their amiable weaknesses! Need I say more? Ah, no, no! you understand
me! Now, this is what you must dosend for a cabriolet when you feel quite well againdraw up all
the windows when you get into itand tell the driver to take you home only through the large and well-
lighted thoroughfares. Do this; and you and your money will be safe. Do this; and to-morrow you will
thank an old soldier for giving you a word of honest advice.
Just as the ex-brave ended his oration in very lachrymose tones, the coffee came in, ready poured out
in two cups. My attentive friend handed me one of the cups with a bow. I was parched with thirst, and
drank it off at a draft. Almost instantly afterward I was seized with a fit of giddiness, and felt more completely
intoxicated than ever. The room whirled round and round furiously; the old soldier seemed to be regularly
bobbing up and down before me like the piston of a steam-engine. I was half deafened by a violent
singing in my ears; a feeling of utter bewilderment, helplessness, idiocy, overcame me. I rose from my
chair, holding on by the table to keep my balance; and stammered out that I felt dreadfully unwellso
unwell that I did not know how I was to get home.
My dear friend, answered the old soldierand even his voice seemed to be bobbing up and down
as he spokemy dear friend, it would be madness to go home in your state; you would be sure to
lose your money; you might be robbed and murdered with the greatest ease. I am going to sleep here:
do you sleep here, toothey make up capital beds in this housetake one; sleep off the effects of the
wine, and go home safely with your winnings to-morrowto-morrow, in broad day-light.
I had but two ideas left: one, that I must never let go hold of my handkerchief full of money; the other,
that I must lie down somewhere immediately, and fall off into a comfortable sleep. So I agreed to the
proposal about the bed, and took the offered arm of the old soldier, carrying my money with my disengaged
hand. Preceded by the croupier, we passed along some passages and up a flight of stairs into the bedroom
which I was to occupy. The ex-brave shook me warmly by the hand, proposed that we should breakfast
together, and then, followed by the croupier, left me for the night.
I ran to the wash-hand stand; drank some of the water in my jug; poured the rest out, and plunged my
face into it; then sat down in a chair and tried to compose myself. I soon felt better. The change for my
lungs, from the fetid atmosphere of the gambling-house to the cool air of the apartment I now occupied,
the almost equally refreshing change for my eyes, from the glaring gaslights of the salon to the dim,
quiet flicker of one bedroom-candle, aided wonderfully the restorative effects of cold water. The giddiness
left me, and I began to feel a little like a reasonable being again. My first thought was of the risk of
sleeping all night in a gambling-house; my second, of the still greater risk of trying to get out after the
house was closed, and of going home alone at night through the streets of Paris with a large sum of
money about me. I had slept in worse places than this on my travels; so I determined to lock, bolt, and
barricade my door, and take my chance till the next morning.
Accordingly, I secured myself against all intrusion; looked under the bed, and into the cupboard; tried the
fastening of the window; and then, satisfied that I had taken every proper precaution, pulled off my upper
clothing, put my light, which was a dim one, on the hearth among a feathery litter of wood-ashes, and
got into bed, with the handkerchief full of money under my pillow.
I soon felt not only that I could not go to sleep, but that I could not even close my eyes. I was wide
awake, and in a high fever. Every nerve in my body trembledevery one of my senses seemed to be
preter-naturally sharpened. I tossed and rolled, and tried every kind of position and perseveringly sought
out the cold corners of the bed, and all to no purpose. Now I thrust my arms over the clothes; now I
poked them under the clothes; now I violently shot my legs straight out down to the bottom of the bed; now
I convulsively coiled them up as near my chin as they would go; now I shook out my crumpled pillow,
changed it to the cool side, patted it flat, and lay down quietly on my back; now I fiercely doubled it in
two, set it up on end, thrust it against the board of the bed, and tried a sitting posture. Every effort was
in vain; I groaned with vexation as I felt that I was in for a sleepless night.
What could I do? I had no book to read. And yet, unless I found out some method of diverting my mind,
I felt certain that I was in the condition to imagine all sorts of horrors; to rack my brain with forebodings
of every possible and impossible danger; in short, to pass the night in suffering all conceivable varieties
of nervous terror.
I raised myself on my elbow, and looked about the roomwhich was brightened by a lovely moonlight
pouring straight through the windowto see if it contained any pictures or ornaments that I could at all
clearly distinguish. While my eyes wandered from wall to wall, a remembrance of Le Maistres delightful
little book, Voyage autour de ma Chambre, occurred to me. I resolved to imitate the French author,
and find occupation and amusement enough to relieve the tedium of my wakefulness, by making a mental
inventory of every article of furniture I could see, and by following up to their sources the multitude of
associations which even a chair, a table, or a wash-hand stand may be made to call forth.
In the nervous, unsettled state of my mind at that moment, I found it much easier to make my inventory
than to make my reflections, and thereupon soon gave up all hope of thinking in Le Maistres fanciful
trackor, indeed, of thinking at all. I looked about the room at the different articles of furniture, and did
There was, first, the bed I was lying in; a four-post bed, of all things in the world to meet with in Parisyes,
a thorough clumsy British four-poster, with a regular top lined with chintzthe regular fringed valance
all roundthe regular stifling, unwholesome curtains, which I remembered having mechanically drawn
back against the posts without particularly noticing the bed when I first got into the room. Then there
was the marble-topped wash-hand stand, from which the water I had spilled, in my hurry to pour it out,
was still dripping, slowly and more slowly, on to the brick floor. Then two small chairs, with my coat,
waistcoat, and trousers flung on them. Then a large elbow-chair covered with dirty white dimity, with
my cravat and shirt collar thrown over the back. Then a chest of drawers with two of the brass handles
off, and a tawdry, broken china inkstand placed on it by way of ornament for the top. Then the dressing-
table, adorned by a very small looking-glass, and a very large pincushion. Then the windowan unusually
large window. Then a dark old picture, which the feeble candle dimly showed me. It was the picture of
a fellow in a high Spanish hat, crowned with a plume of towering feathers. A swarthy, sinister ruffian,
looking upward, shading his eyes with his hand, and looking intently upwardit might be at some tall
gallows on which he was going to be hanged. At any rate, he had the appearance of thoroughly deserving
This picture put a kind of constraint upon me to look upward too at the top of the bed. It was a gloomy
and not an interesting object, and I looked back at the picture. I counted the feathers in the mans hat
they stood out in reliefthree white, two green. I observed the crown of his hat, which was of a conical
shape, according to the fashion supposed to have been favored by Guido Fawkes. I wondered what he
was looking up at. It couldnt be at the stars; such a desperado was neither astrologer nor astronomer.
It must be at the high gallows, and he was going to be hanged presently. Would the executioner come
into possession of his conical crowned hat and plume of feathers? I counted the feathers againthree
white, two green.
While I still lingered over this very improving and intellectual employment, my thoughts insensibly began
to wander. The moonlight shining into the room reminded me of a certain moonlight night in Englandthe
night after a picnic party in a Welsh valley. Every incident of the drive homeward, through lovely
scenery, which the moonlight made lovelier than ever, came back to my remembrance, though I had
never given the picnic a thought for years; though, if I had tried to recollect it, I could certainly have
recalled little or nothing of that scene long past. Of all the wonderful faculties that help to tell us we
are immortal, which speaks the sublime truth more eloquently than memory? Here was I, in a strange
house of the most suspicious character, in a situation of uncertainty, and even of peril, which might seem
to make the cool exercise of my recollection almost out of the question; nevertheless, remembering, quite
involuntarily, places, people, conversations, minute circumstances of every kind, which I had thought
forgotten forever; which I could not possibly have recalled at will, even under the most favorable auspices.
And what cause had produced in a moment the whole of this strange, complicated, mysterious effect?
Nothing but some rays of moonlight shining in at my bedroom window.
I was still thinking of the picnicof our merriment on the drive homeof the sentimental young lady
who would quote Childe Harold because it was moonlight. I was absorbed by these past scenes and
past amusements, when, in an instant, the thread on which my memories hung snapped asunder; my
attention immediately came back to present things more vividly than ever, and I found myself, I neither
knew why nor wherefore, looking hard at the picture again.
Looking for what?
Good God! the man had pulled his hat down on his brows! No! the hat itself was gone! Where was
the conical crown? Where the feathers three white, two green? Not there! In place of the hat and
feathers, what dusky object was it that now hid his forehead, his eyes, his shading hand?
Was the bed moving?
I turned on my back and looked up. Was I mad? drunk? dreaming? giddy again? or was the top of the
bed really moving downsinking slowly, regularly, silently, horribly, right down throughout the whole of its
length and breadthright down upon me, as I lay underneath?
My blood seemed to stand still. A deadly, paralyzing coldness stole all over me as I turned my head
round on the pillow and determined to test whether the bed-top was really moving or not, by keeping
my eye on the man in the picture.
The next look in that direction was enough. The dull, black, frowsy outline of the valance above me was
within an inch of being parallel with his waist. I still looked breathlessly. And steadily and slowlyvery
slowlyI saw the figure, and the line of frame below the figure, vanish, as the valance moved down
I am, constitutionally, anything but timid. I have been on more than one occasion in peril of my life, and
have not lost my self-possession for an instant; but when the conviction first settled on my mind that the
bed-top was really moving, was steadily and continuously sinking down upon me, I looked up shuddering,
helpless, panic-stricken, beneath the hideous machinery for murder, which was advancing closer and
closer to suffocate me where I lay.
I looked up, motionless, speechless, breathless. The candle, fully spent, went out; but the moonlight still
brightened the room. Down and down, without pausing and without sounding, came the bed-top, and
still my panic terror seemed to bind me faster and faster to the mattress on which I laydown and down
it sank, till the dusty odor from the lining of the canopy came stealing into my nostrils.
At that final moment the instinct of self-preservation startled me out of my trance, and I moved at last.
There was just room for me to roll myself sidewise off the bed. As I dropped noiselessly to the floor, the
edge of the murderous canopy touched me on the shoulder.
Without stopping to draw my breath, without wiping the cold sweat from my face, I rose instantly on my
knees to watch the bed-top. I was literally spellbound by it. If I had heard footsteps behind me, I could
not have turned round; if a means of escape had been miraculously provided for me, I could not have
moved to take advantage of it. The whole life in me was, at that moment, concentrated in my eyes.
It descendedthe whole canopy, with the fringe round it, came downdownclose down; so close that
there was not room now to squeeze my finger between the bed-top and the bed. I felt at the sides, and
discovered that what had appeared to me from beneath to be the ordinary light canopy of a four-post
bed was in reality a thick, broad mattress, the substance of which was concealed by the valance and
its fringe. I looked up and saw the four posts rising hideously bare. In the middle of the bed-top was
a huge wooden screw that had evidently worked it down through a hole in the ceiling, just as ordinary
presses are worked down on the substance selected for compression. The frightful apparatus moved
without making the faintest noise. There had been no creaking as it came down; there was now not
the faintest sound from the room above. Amidst a dead and awful silence I beheld before mein the
Nineteenth Century, and in the civilized capital of Francesuch a machine for secret murder by suffocation
as might have existed in the worst days of the Inquisition, in the lonely inns among the Hartz Mountains,
in the mysterious tribunals of Westphalia! Still, as I looked on it, I could not move, I could hardly breathe,
but I began to recover the power of thinking, and in a moment I discovered the murderous conspiracy
framed against me in all its horror.
My cup of coffee had been drugged, and drugged too strongly. I had been saved from being smothered
by having taken an overdose of some narcotic. How I had chafed and fretted at the fever fit which had
preserved my life by keeping me awake! How recklessly I had confided myself to the two wretches who
had led me into this room, determined, for the sake of my winnings, to kill me in my sleep by the surest
and most horrible contrivance for secretly accomplishing my destruction! How many men, winners like
me, had slept, as I had proposed to sleep, in that bed, and had never been seen or heard of more! I
shuddered at the bare idea of it.
But ere long all thought was again suspended by the sight of the murderous canopy moving once more.
After it had remained on the bed as nearly as I could guessabout ten minutes, it began to move up
again. The villains who worked it from above evidently believed that their purpose was now accomplished.
Slowly and silently, as it had descended, that horrible bed-top rose toward it former place. When it reached
the upper extremities of the four posts, it reached the ceiling too. Neither hole nor screw could be seen; the bed became in appearance an ordinary bed againthe canopy an ordinary canopyeven to the most
Now, for the first time, I was able to moveto rise from my knees to dress myself in my upper clothingand
to consider of how I should escape. If I betrayed by the smallest noise that the attempt to suffocate
me had failed, I was certain to be murdered. Had I made any noise already? I listened intently, looking
toward the door.
No! No footsteps in the passage outsideno sound of a tread, light or heavy, in the room aboveabsolute
silence everywhere. Besides locking and bolting my door, I had moved an old wooden chest against
it, which I had found under the bed. To remove this chest (my blood ran cold as I thought of what its
contents might be!) without making some disturbance was impossible; and, moreover, to think of escaping
through the house, now barred up for the night, was sheer insanity. Only one chance was left methe
window. I stole to it on tiptoe.
My bedroom was on the first floor, above an entresol, and looked into the back street. I raised my hand
to open the window, knowing that on that action hung, by the merest hair-breadth, my chance of safety.
They keep vigilant watch in a House of Murder. If any part of the frame cracked, if the hinge creaked, I
was a lost man! It must have occupied me at least five minutes, reckoning by timefive hours reckoning
by suspenseto open that window. I succeeded in doing it silently in doing it with all the dexterity
of a house-breakerand then looked down into the street. To leap the distance beneath me would be
almost certain destruction! Next, I looked round at the sides of the house. Down the left side ran a thick
water-pipeit passed close by the outer edge of the window. The moment I saw the pipe, I knew I was
saved. My breath came and went freely for the first time since I had seen the canopy of the bed moving
down upon me!
To some men the means of escape which I had discovered might have seemed difficult and dangerous
enoughto me the prospect of slipping down the pipe into the street did not suggest even a thought of
peril. I had always been accustomed, by the practise of gymnastics, to keep up my school-boy powers
as a daring and expert climber; and knew that my head, hands, and feet would serve me faithfully in any
hazards of ascent or descent. I had already got one leg over the window-still, when I remembered the
handkerchief filled with money under my pillow. I could well have afforded to leave it behind me, but I
was revengefully determined that the miscreants of the gambling-house should miss their plunder as
well as their victim. So I went back to the bed and tied the heavy handkerchief at my back by my cravat.
Just as I had made it tight and fixed it in a comfortable place, I thought I heard a sound of breathing
outside the door. The chill feeling of horror ran through me again as I listened. No! Dead silence still
in the passageI had only heard the night air blowing softly into the room. The next moment I was on
the window-silland the next I had a firm grip on the water-pipe with my hands and knees.
I slid down into the street easily and quietly, as I thought I should, and immediately set off at the top of
my speed to a branch Prefecture of Police, which I knew was situated in the immediate neighborhood.
A Sub-prefect, and several picked men among his subordinates, happened to be up, maturing, I believe,
some scheme for discovering the perpetrator of a mysterious murder which all Paris was talking of just
then. When I began my story, in a breathless hurry and in very bad French, I could see that the Sub-
prefect suspected me of being a drunken Englishman who had robbed somebody; but he soon altered
his opinion as I went on, and before I had anything like concluded, he shoved all the papers before him
into a drawer, put on his hat, supplied me with another (for I was bareheaded), ordered a file of soldiers,
desired his expert followers to get ready all sorts of tools for breaking open doors and ripping up brick
flooring, and took my arm, in the most friendly and familiar manner possible, to lead me with him out
of the house. I will venture to say that when the Sub-prefect was a little boy, and was taken for the first
time to the play, he was not half as much pleased as he was now at the job in prospect for him at the
Away we went through the streets, the Sub-prefect cross-examining and congratulating me in the same
breath as we marched at the head of our formidable posse comitatus. Sentinels were placed at the
back and front of the house the moment we got to it, a tremendous battery of knocks was directed against
the door; a light appeared at a window; I was told to conceal myself behind the policethen came more
knocks, and a cry of Open in the name of the law! At that terrible summons bolts and locks gave way
before an invisible hand, and the moment after the Sub-prefect was in the passage, confronting a waiter
half dressed and ghastly pale. This was the short dialogue which immediately took place:
We want to see the Englishman who is sleeping in this house?
He went away hours ago.
He did no such thing. His friend went away; he remained. Show us to his bedroom!
I swear to you, Monsieur le Sous-prefect, he is not here! He
I swear to you, Monsieur le Garçon, he is. He slept herehe didnt find your bed comfortablehe came
to us to complain of ithere he is among my menand here am I ready to look for a flea or two in his
bedstead. Renaudin! (calling to one of the subordinates, and pointing to the waiter), collar that man,
and tie his hands behind him. Now, then, gentlemen, let us walk upstairs!
Every man and woman in the house was securedthe Old Soldier the first. Then I identified the bed
in which I had slept, and then we went into the room above.
No object that was at all extraordinary appeared in any part of it. The Sub-prefect looked round the
place, commanded everybody to be silent, stamped twice on the floor, called for a candle, looked attentively
at the spot he had stamped on, and ordered the flooring there to be carefully taken up. This was done
in no time. Lights were produced, and we saw a deep raftered cavity between the floor of this room
and the ceiling of the room beneath. Through this cavity there ran perpendicularly a sort of case of iron
thickly greased; and inside the case appeared the screw, which communicated with the bed-top below.
Extra lengths of screw, freshly oiled; levers covered with felt; all the complete upper works of a heavy
pressconstructed with infernal ingenuity so as to join the fixtures below, and when taken to pieces
again to go into the smallest possible compasswere next discovered and pulled out on the floor. After
some little difficulty the Sub-prefect succeeded in putting the machinery together, and, leaving his men
to work it, descended with me to the bedroom. The smothering canopy was then lowered, but not so
noiselessly as I had seen it lowered. When I mentioned this to the Sub-prefect, his answer, simple as it
was, had a terrible significance, My men, said he, are working down the bed-top for the first timethe
men whose money you won were in better practice.
We left the house in the sole possession of two police agentsevery one of the inmates being removed
to prison on the spot. The Sub-prefect, after taking down my procès verbal in his office, returned with
me to my hotel to get my passport. Do you think, I asked, as I gave it to him, that any men have really
been smothered in that bed, as they tried to smother me?
I have seen dozens of drowned men laid out at the Morgue, answered the Sub-prefect, in whose pocketbooks
were found letters stating that they had committed suicide in the Seine, because they had lost everything
at the gaming-table. Do I know how many of those men entered the same gambling-house that you
entered? won as you won? took that bed as you took it? slept in it? were smothered in it? and were
privately thrown into the river, with a letter of explanation written by the murderers and placed in their
pocketbooks? No man can say how many or how few have suffered the fate from which you have escaped.
The people of the gambling-house kept their bedstead machinery a secret from useven from the police!
The dead kept the rest of the secret for them. Good-night, or rather good-morning, Monsieur Faulkner!
Be at my office again at nine oclockin the meantime, au revoir!
The rest of my story is soon told. I was examined and reexamined; the gambling-house was strictly searched
all through from top to bottom; the prisoners were separately interrogated; and two of the less guilty among
them made a confession. I discovered that the Old Soldier was the master of the gambling-housejustice
discovered that he had been drummed out of the army as a vagabond years ago; that he had
been guilty of all sorts of villainies since; that he was in possession of stolen property, which the owners
identified; and that he, the croupier, another accomplice, and the woman who had made my cup of coffee,
were all in the secret of the bedstead. There appeared some reason to doubt whether the inferior persons
attached to the house knew anything of the suffocating machinery; and they received the benefit of that
doubt, by being treated simply as thieves and vagabonds. As for the Old Soldier and his two head myrmidons,
they went to the galleys; the woman who had drugged my coffee was imprisoned for I forget how many
years; the regular attendants at the gambling-house were considered suspicious, and placed under
surveillance; and I became, for one whole week (which is a long time), the head lion in Parisian society.
My adventure was dramatized by three illustrious play-makers, but never saw theatrical daylight; for the
censorship forbade the introduction on the stage of a correct copy of the gambling-house bedstead.
One good result was produced by my adventure, which any censorship must have approved: it cured
me of ever again trying Rouge et Noir as an amusement. The sight of a green cloth, with packs of
cards and heaps of money on it, will henceforth be forever associated in my mind with the sight of a bed
canopy descending to suffocate me in the silence and darkness of the night.