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The direction of the shot, as shown by the post-mortem examination, was not against this theory; but the most unmistakable proof lay in the motive for the deed, which was only too clear. From the various cash-boxes under the charge of the deceased one hundred and twenty marks were missing. Sergeant-major Heppner, in dread of this being discovered, had shot himself.
Despite the warmth of the August sun, Julie Heppner grew worse day by day; but this was nothing to her in comparison with the burden of mental suffering which almost overwhelmed her. She watched her husband and sister with a gaze that never faltered. She saw with horror how Ida became less shy of her and abandoned herself more and more to her passion. Nor was this hidden from her husband.
At last he fell back on the cash-box of the battery. From time to time he replaced a portion of what he had taken, but the deficit nevertheless became greater and greater. One morning, in the beginning of August, Wegstetten said to him: "Sergeant Heppner, have the one-year volunteers paid their board-money?" "Yes, sir." "All right. Then get your cash-box ready for settling up accounts.
The horses no longer tugged at their traces. They drew the guns patiently and bravely, but with subdued spirits. Sergeant Heppner looked on thoughtfully; the animals were certainly more used up this time than on former occasions of the kind. Their sleek sides had fallen in; and a couple of them looked very rough in the coat, too.
Thus it will be seen that the brutality Heppner displayed at home he could successfully repress when on duty. But the most remarkable thing about this man, who behaved like a brute to his wife, and had no affection for his comrades, was the metamorphosis he underwent if the horses were in question. Towards those beautiful animals he showed an almost womanly tenderness.
Apparently the barmaid would have no more free moments. So at last the two non-commissioned officers rose, paid their bill, and then went up to the bar to say good-night to her. Now it was that Albina first noticed the full difference between her future husband and the sergeant-major. As the men stood side by side, Heppner was more than a head taller than Heimert.
At supper Julie Heppner said to her husband: "Otto, the money you give us for housekeeping isn't enough. Ida couldn't pay the milkman to-day." "No affair of mine," replied the deputy sergeant-major, with his mouth full. "You must manage things better." When he had finished eating he put his coat on, buckled on his sabre and put on his forage cap.
She wore her dark hair, which was as coarse as a horse's tail, dressed in a new-fashioned way which gave her a certain "individuality"; and, above all, she had some scent about her of a kind that was only used by the most distinguished ladies. Heppner was annoyed that she noticed him so little.
But why, because a man had had the good fortune to work under the sainted Moltke on the general staff, he should, therefore, always describe anything that had occurred since that time as "less good," that he could never understand. That evening after roll-call Heppner read out his own promotion to the rank of sergeant-major, and that of Sergeant Heimert to the post of deputy sergeant-major.
Under Heppner's eyes he placed the cartridges in the chambers of the revolvers, the shining brass gleaming beside the dull steel. He gripped the pistols by the barrel, and held out the butt-ends to the sergeant-major. "Now choose," he said. Heppner languidly took with his right hand the revolver which the other was holding in his left.
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