first sound slumbers of the night
held him in their soft but strong embrace. The assassin enters through the
window, already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment. With noiseless
foot he paces the lonely hall, half-lighted by the moon; he winds up the
ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door of the chamber. Of this, he
moves the lock by soft and continued pressure till it turns on its hinges
without noise; and he enters, and beholds his victim before him. The room
was uncommonly open to the admission of light. The face of the innocent
sleeper was turned from the murderer, and the beams of the moon, resting
on the gray locks of his aged temple, showed him where to strike. The
fatal blow is given! and the victim passes, without a struggle or a
motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose of death!

It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work; and he yet plies the
dagger, though it was obvious that life had been destroyed by the blow of
the bludgeon. He even raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim
at the heart; and replaces it again over the wounds of the poniard! To
finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse! He feels for it,
and ascertains that it beats no longer! It is accomplished. The deed is
done. He retreats, retraces his steps to the window, passes out through it
as he came in, and escapes. He has done the murder; no eye has seen him,
no ear has heard him. The secret is his own, and it is safe!

Ah! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret can be safe
nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner where the
guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye which
glances through all disguises, and beholds everything as in the splendor
of noon; such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by men.
True it is, generally speaking, that "murder will out." True it is that
Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who
break the great law of Heaven by shedding man's blood, seldom succeed in
avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much attention as
this, discovery must come, and wilt come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes
turn at once to explore every man, everything, every circumstance
connected with the time and place; a thousand ears catch every whisper; a
thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the scene, shedding all their
light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a blaze