The Forest Lake Mystery Read online

  So everything is over between us because, after all, that’s what you want, you love your wife over everything in the world. And I suppose she loves you too, although I thought it was fair and right to show her how you were and how a woman can trust you in her time of need, despite your words and assurances which you never mean. But she has nothing to say to you, because you fine people are no better than a girl like me – for we are all equal before our Lord and all of us are sinners.

  But fair is fair anyway.

  And I tell you that you can mock me and leave me and push me away as much as you want, because I have Cedersköld, but your fine lady, whom you love and who is so proud, shall not deprive me of the last and only one I have.

  And now I know that your wife is Cedersköld’s lover, and they meet in many different places, and if you don’t believe me, you can get confirmation of it whenever you want.

  And that, I say to you, isn’t fair and right, because when a woman is married and has children, it’s not the same as it is for someone who is in need.

  And you have your wife as she has you – that’s what I wanted to say.

  Annie Bengtson.

  P.S. If you don’t believe me, you can come and see for yourself next Monday at 8 o’clock in the evening in Västragatan at Madam Engström’s.

  * * *

  I have killed my wife…

  Not with my own hand, because I don’t believe I could lift a hand against Giulia, but I’m guilty of her death and I will bear that guilt to the last day of my life – beyond it even, if anything beyond exists. I gave Giulia the letter and asked her: Is it true?

  And she answered yes.

  At that point, I wanted to leave – I only had one thing to do, avenge my honour and I would do that in the hour when I learnt my shame.

  She asked me to stay and told me that the fault was hers and hers alone. But she had had the right to act as she had acted, the same right as I had had.

  To this, I replied that this wasn’t a question of right or no right. My wife’s honour was my honour, my house’s honour and my children’s honour and I was its avenger.

  Then she smiled and put her arms around my neck and said it wasn’t true. She had only wanted to take her revenge, just wanted to test me, and that it had all been set up. Now I had been punished enough and now she wanted to forgive me.

  I didn’t believe her.

  So she asked me to wait and to call the other two in to hear from their own mouths what I wouldn’t believe when she said it.

  Those days were the hardest time of my life, because Cedersköld was away travelling at that time and Annie was in Kristianstad.

  But the day came and I let the two be called.

  Cedersköld, who had been my friend for so many years, refused to say anything, and Annie laughed in bitter disdain and said everything she had written was true.

  Giulia wept and I didn’t believe her.

  Then came the night, and she implored me to believe her, but how could I believe the person who had betrayed me? She said she would die if I doubted her.

  And I doubted her anyway.

  So Giulia died on 27th March, 1885 by her own hand.

  I buried her, but didn’t mourn for her.

  I swore to live only for my children’s sake, and on that day, the smile on my lips died and I became an old man.

  I swore yet another oath: to avenge the dishonour that was brought upon my house and that oath I will keep.

  * * *

  Here ends my diary, or rather the records that were originally intended to form my diary, but which the seriousness of life has interrupted. A man cannot write down his sorrow; what’s the point! Be quiet!… and speak only where word is action.

  * * *

  Attached were three letters to Holger Kurk, which spoke of that which the diary was silent about. They had clearly been chosen out of many, but each one threw the sharpest light on an action.

  Dear Holger. I am writing from the Tyrol, from Stilfserjoch, where I’m staying at a guest house with the name Neuspondinig not far from the high point of Ferdinandshöhe. You know why I came here and I’m writing this to inform you that my business has been completed.

  Cedersköld is dead.

  It didn’t go as I had expected, and it was no doubt a higher will, if such higher will exists, that decided differently. I loved him as I have loved you; what that means, you know yourself. He broke our friendship and acted badly towards me. I swore I would find him and demand that he accepted his responsibility. I found him here in this place, dying, and he died without speaking.

  He had arrived here from Trafoi, to which I had followed his trail. He wanted to take a short-cut on foot and plunged into a stream called Klammbach.

  He was pitiful to see; his chest was crushed and his head badly injured. He was breathing weakly when I found him, but he died not ten minutes after my arrival.

  I still think that if I had met him at Franzenshöhe where the accident happened, I would probably now have been charged at the assizes in Bozen. I could have thrown Cedersköld into any abyss in this world.

  Now he is dead and I haven’t killed him in a fight. I wish I had because since Giulia died, every drop of blood in my body demanded his death and I have pursued him as his malignant destiny.

  Annie has left him; I see from a letter that was found in his effects that she has found a friend in Vienna. Annie was created to be a woman of pleasure and that will be her lot. She deceived me when I loved her; she also deceived Cedersköld and lied to both of us.

  Poor Corporal Bengtson! He believed me, and while I was heading south to see Venice and Giulia, he tried to avenge his daughter’s honour by killing Cedersköld. I don’t know whether the child is mine or Cedersköld’s, but it shall not suffer hardship; it has been taken care of with the provisions made. Cedersköld didn’t utter a word, but I think he recognised me and that gives me some comfort. I never thought I would be able to see a human being suffering and feel comforted by that. But in this case, I did. I have had him buried. He didn’t own anything, or at least only a little.

  Now he is dead, and his name shouldn’t be mentioned between us any more. He died on 6th August, 1886 through a fall between Ferdinandshöhe and Trafoi. The coachman who drove him didn’t see how the accident happened, and no one will ever learn how it happened.

  Now I am returning home to the children. Their upbringing is now what I live for. Brotherly greetings,

  Your Arvid.

  Dear Holger,

  You have written to tell me that Annie’s child is dead. Annie has also written to me and looked for me. I won’t reply to her. I was fond of Annie when I saw her the first time. You may reproach me for this infatuation – one can do that afterwards. I think I acted right because life offers so little sunshine and we humans should seek sunshine. Well, I don’t want to preach that sermon and it would also be stupid. Now I have changed a lot. If I acted wrongly, I have had to bear the “punishment”. I don’t believe in punishment, but I believe in revenge. All punishment is revenge and revenge can satisfy; I have felt that myself once in my life.

  It’s only for the best that the child is dead. Annie doesn’t deserve a child, and I don’t believe in her repentance, as you call it. A man can love many women and yet not be affected by his infatuations; a woman who loves many men is, and remains, a whore. You may well have learnt the opposite and preach your morality or immorality just as eagerly.

  I’m a nobleman from birth, and my morality is the nobleman’s morality – it will never be different. It definitely isn’t practical considerations, definitely not society, I want to preserve; it is purely and simply my soldier morality, which, when it comes to it, is no morality. I have forgotten the whore, and I didn’t acknowledge her child when it lived, nor do I intend to cry at its deathbed.

  Bury it and give her some money, that’s probably what she has most need for.

  Your Arvid.

  Dear Holger.

  Merry Christmas – yo
u are probably surprised that I’m not spending Christmas with Ulla in Lausanne. It was chance; we had decided that she should come here but bad weather and train cancellations thwarted our plans. Claes and his wife are in Sicily. The honeymoon still has 14 days to go, though Claes’s marriage doesn’t please me; she is too rich and not beautiful enough. Thank God that Ulla is poor, so she is saved the disappointments. Ulla will probably arrive tomorrow.

  I spent Christmas Eve here in the company of a woman – Annie. I was strolling down the boulevards in the evening to take a look at Christmas in Paris. I met her and recognised her immediately. It seemed as if she was in some distress – she looked poor. You know, I think everything in this world has its destiny, and I stopped her and asked her if she wanted to spend Christmas Eve with me. I don’t know why I did it, but now that has happened, I don’t regret it. It was the strangest Christmas Eve I have ever spent.

  Annie has passed from hand to hand, but she is still very beautiful. Sjöström has left her, she says; he is what I’ve always said he is – a bad sort who has probably lived off Annie’s friends. We didn’t talk about the child – she tried to, but I refused. I didn’t recognise that child as mine. I have loved her. At that time, I had no idea she was his mistress as well as mine. But she was hungry and I gave her a princely meal at the Cafe de la Paix. I really think she began to hope that the old days would begin again and I won’t deny that I reinforced her belief and hope. I wanted her to talk about the only thing that still today, out of everything hidden in the past, is close to my heart.

  About Giulia. She spoke, but she only said what she said that time, and I’ll probably have to believe her. She says she hated Giulia because I loved her. That’s no doubt true. She says she hated Cedersköld and that she only became his mistress because I betrayed her. It’s obviously untrue, but women who lie, lie with all their soul and believe their own lies. I rarely lie myself – I have only lied to you once, as you will read here. It was late and I accompanied Annie to her home, a humble garret in a neighbourhood I’m not familiar with.

  Why I did that, I don’t know, but something of the devil had taken hold of me that holy Christmas night. I can be evil and I was. I told Annie while she was resting in my arms how a man died on 6th August, 1886 while taking the path over Stilfserjoch from Trafoi.

  You, I and Annie are the only ones who still remember the man whose bones are crumbling in a small cemetery in the Tyrol. I told Annie somewhat more than I’ve told anyone else and than I ever wished to tell anyone else. She stiffened in horror, and I won’t forget her look for a long time. She only talked a little, and I think her hopes of a renewal of the old days waned during my account.

  If Giulia’s death is my responsibility, I don’t know; Cedersköld’s is his own and no-one else’s. If I were standing on the road at Ferdinandshöhe today, I would still force him to dare to jump and ask for the divine judgement that would say whether he was guilty or innocent. I said that to Annie that Christmas night. Now you also know what happened. Put it to one side and forget it.

  Your Arvid.

  Finally, attached to the letters was a document which Holst recognised – it was Annie’s letter to Ankerkrone, which Holst had had forwarded to him. Holst’s note was attached. A greeting from beyond the grave. Annie’s letter went as follows:

  My only friend, You can believe me or not, but I’ve never loved anyone but you; I will swear directly to God the Father if I die this night, which I think I will because I’m very ill. But if I live, this letter will be kept in a safe place, and my old mother will keep it and send it to you if I die before her. I have never loved anyone but you – never. Cedersköld’s seduction of me is proven and true, but I was young and didn’t love him, but I loved you and the child was yours. It was, because it was born while we were together and had been together for a long time for the happiest days of my life and you know that too.

  It was yours. But you turned nasty towards me and didn’t want to divorce your wife, whom you didn’t love at that time, and so I left you to see if you would return, but you wouldn’t and you went to your wife whom you had no right to because you had left her, and it was me who was your beloved and had given birth in pain to your child.

  I wrote to your wife and spoke with her and said you had loved me before now and she went pale and would not believe it, but I had the child with me and she could see that it looked like you, which proves that it was your child. And she talked so much to me and was sad because she was no doubt a good woman, but I hated her because she loved you and because you had deserted me. But she didn’t want to leave you, and then some time after she called me in and told me she would punish you because I had seemed sad and she was good to me, but that only caused me pain because I could see she was afraid of me.

  And then I told her she should say that stuff about Cedersköld, and he did what I wanted, because he was a fool for me, but I didn’t care about him.

  And then I wrote to you.

  But afterwards, I said that I had told the truth, and it wasn’t true, because Cedersköld has never been your wife’s lover, but I did it to get my revenge. I would have told you that in Paris, but you told me you had killed Cedersköld, and I was afraid you’d kill me, so I didn’t dare tell you the truth.

  But it is the truth and if you have killed both your wife and Cedersköld, then it is God’s punishment for deceiving me and leaving our child, who our Lord has taken and who you wouldn’t even reply to me about, when I wrote so touchingly to you about it when she died. That’s what I wanted to write to you and you have to know this, if I die, so that your evil deeds may be known to you and it is all punishment from our Lord.

  Now I don’t want to write any more, because I’m very ill, but now you know everything and that I have never loved anyone other than you, Arvid Ankerkrone.

  Your unhappy beloved, Annie.

  XV

  In addition to the important post from Ankerkrone, Holst found a short letter from Elsinore, which read as follows:

  After the lieutenant’s departure, I have obtained information that the gentleman, who on 27th March this year stayed at the railway hotel together with the lady who called herself Mrs Gorin, was a Swedish officer of bad reputation named Hugold Sjöström. I have also learnt that at midday the same day, he hired a carriage from the carter Larsen of Stengade and was driven to Esrum, and the coachman and carter were both surprised that he let the carriage return empty. I have not been able to find out anything else.

  Respectfully yours,

  Jens Petersen Stub, waiter.

  This letter gave Holst a reason to make yet another reconnaissance trip to the place where the body was found and the area around it, as well as a further visit to Elsinore. There was, however, apart from the carter’s statement, nothing significantly new that came out of it; in particular, there was no one at all in the area around Esrum who had noticed the couple at all.

  Holst decided to meet up with his immediate superior in the capital and provide a detailed report on what was known, though without touching upon the individual circumstances which had connections to the Ankerkrone family. He emphasised that the search for and arrest of Sjöström was based on the falsification and that the charge of murder would be the subsidiary one, thereby making it easier to keep the case from the public eye. The murder and the discovery of the corpse in the quarry were both forgotten, in the way that all newspaper copy is forgotten quickly and completely.

  Holst was not one of those policemen who immediately fashion an opportunity for a compromising charge. He didn’t seek recognition as the one who hastily jumps in, and he calmly allowed his colleagues to say that it was luck and chance that stood by him, but his superior knew that it was his persistent, unobtrusive use of chance that was his strength, and that he was among the few who understood how to quietly follow a trail.

  Holst quickly prepared for his journey; he wanted to look for Sjöström in Venice, bring about his arrest and transport him to Denmark, but subse
quently he wanted to find Ankerkrone, and then the Captain was going tell the whole story of what he knew.

  Part 3

  Venice

  I

  At the beginning of July, Eigil Holst arrived in the city of lagoons, the Queen of the Adriatic, the one and only Venice. It was eleven o’clock in the evening, in moonlight with a clear, starry sky and fairly quiet. The train rolled over the long, stone causeway connecting the lagoon city with the mainland. Holst leant out the window. In the distance, he could see lights flickering, but they disappeared and as far as the eye could see, there was only the clear surface of the sea, in which the sky was reflected, shiny and blue. The train stopped with a jolt. The carriage doors were thrown open, a confused yelling and commotion reverberated around the covered terminus hall, and Holst leapt out, accompanied by a young travelling companion, a German doctor named Braun, with whom he had become acquainted on the journey from Munich.

  They walked together, defending themselves manfully against the numerous porters who offered their services. The German was familiar with the situation; he strode determinedly in front of Holst, and they were soon standing outside the station building, where the lamps were burning in a strangely subdued way and it was much more peaceful.

  Venice receives its guests differently from any other European city. Here there are no shouting coachmen, no rolling omnibuses, no electric trams that slide like moving lakes of light over a crowded square. Here there are no bright cafés, no illuminated shop windows, no undulating life, no puffs of air from the big city blowing gently at night with candles flickering from every nook and cranny.