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After a long deliberation, in which every portion of the evidence was considered by the jury, which had listened intently to its relation, they returned the following verdict: "That John Henry Schulte came to his death from wounds inflicted with some unknown instrument, in the hands of some person or persons known to William Bucholz, and we do find that said William Bucholz has a guilty knowledge of said crime."
The owner, old man Schulte, was sweeping the sidewalk. He had an income of fifteen thousand a year; but he held that he needed exercise, that sweeping was good exercise, and that it was stupid for a man, simply because he was rich, to stop taking exercise or to take it only in some form which had no useful side. "Good morning," said Hilda. "What rent do you ask for this store?"
Half an hour later, Henry Schulte, who had been delayed beyond his wont in the village, came walking briskly along the road that led to the abode of Emerence. His heart was gay, and a blithe, merry song rose to his lips as he journeyed along.
"Yes, that is right," said Bucholz, eagerly, while a glow of satisfaction dashed across his face. "I don't know about that," replied Sommers. "How large were the wounds upon the head of Mr. Schulte?" "One was about three inches long." "Was that the wound that was made by the sharp edge of the axe?" "Yes! yes!" replied Bucholz, eagerly. "Well, how large was the other wound?"
All doubts were removed from his mind the murderer of Henry Schulte stood before him and if the judges and the jury that were to hear his case in a few days could have witnessed this scene, conviction would have been carried to the minds of the most skeptical. No confession seemed necessary now.
Schulte made it highly desirable that we should obtain possession of it without delay. Four of us were selected for this dangerous mission of getting into Germany and fetching it, by hook or by crook, from the house at Cleves where it was deposited.
As he walked on, the dark, lowering clouds that had been gathering overhead, broke into a terrific storm of rain; the wind whistled and howled through the valleys, and from the mountain gorges the lightning flashed with a vividness almost appalling; but, undismayed by the storm and the tempest, which seemed at that time to accord with the emotions of his own wicked heart, Nat continued on his way, which lay past the unpretending, but comfortable farm-house, where, in the peace and contentment of a happy home, Henry Schulte dwelt with his parents.
From the facts collected by my operatives, and from every other available source, I was now put into possession of every point in the case of the murder of Henry Schulte, that could be arrived at, and we were prepared to define a plan of operation, which, if strictly adhered to, bore the impress of promised success.
"Sixty dollars a month," answered the old man, continuing his sweeping. "Taxes are up, but rents are down." "Not with you, I guess. Otto Heilig and I are going to get married and open a delicatessen. But sixty dollars a month is too much. Good morning." And she went on. Schulte leaned on his broom. "What's your hurry?" he called. "You can't get as good a location as this."
Signed, "FREDRICK W. SCHULTE." Had those who knew the previous history of Henry Schulte expected to have received any expression of sorrow for the death of the old gentleman, they were doomed to be disappointed, and the telegram itself fully dissipated any such idea. The man was dead, and the heirs were claiming their inheritance that was all.
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