A deed of blood and horror

We had no difficulty in ascertaining the place of Livingston’s abode; for he was well known in the city. He resided in a handsome house situated on one of the principal streets; and we discovered that the lawless rascal was actually engaged in the practice of the law!

“My dear friend,” said Mrs. Raymond to me one day, as we were strolling along the banks of the river, “I will not suffer you to involve yourself in any trouble on my account. You must have nothing to do with this Livingston. You must remain entirely in the back-ground. To me belongs the task of punishing him. I tell you frankly that I shall kill the man. He is not fit to live, and he must not be permitted to continue his career of villainy. Whatever may be my fate, do not, I entreat you, by unhappy on my account. When I have shed the heart’s blood of Livingston, I shall be willing to die upon the scaffold. To the very last moment of my life, I shall cherish for you a sentiment of the most affectionate gratitude; you sacrificed all your own plans in order to accompany me here, and, throughout the entire long journey, you have treated me with a degree of kindness and attention, which I can never forget while life remains. But a truce to melancholy; let us change the subject.”

“With all my heart,” said I; and leaving the river side, we walked up into the centre of the city.

We passed an elegant dwelling-house on the door of which was a silver plate bearing the name “Livingston.” This was the residence of the villain who ruined Mrs. Raymond.

A carriage drove up before the door, and from it leaped a tall, fine-looking man, dressed in the height of fashion. He assisted a beautiful and elegantly attired lady to alight from the vehicle, and conducted her into the house.

“That man is Livingston, and that woman must be one of his wives,” said Mrs. Raymond, with a bitter smile, as she placed her hand in her bosom, where, I knew, she carried a dirk-knife.

“My friend,” resumed she, after a pause, “leave me; I may as well perform my bloody task now, as at any other time. I will invent some pretext for requesting an interview with Livingston, and then, without uttering a single word, I will stab him to the heart. Farewell, forget me, and be happy!”

“Stay,” said I “you must not leave me thus. Let me persuade you to abandon, at least for the present, your terrible design with reference to Livingston. You are agitated, excited; wait until you are cool, and capable of sober reflections.”

Mrs. Raymond regarded me with a look of anger, as she said, passionately

“And was it for the purpose of giving me such advice as this, that you accompanied me from Philadelphia to this city? You knew, all the while, the object of my journey, and yet now, in the eleventh hour, when an excellent opportunity presents itself for the accomplishment of that object, you seek to dissuade me from my purpose. Have I entirely mistaken your character? Are you really as weak-minded, and as devoid of courage and spirit, as your language would seem to indicate? When that young ruffian mutilated you in Philadelphia, didn’t you consider that you acted perfectly right? Well, this Livingston has destroyed the happiness of my life, and transformed me from a lady of wealth into a penniless beggar. Say does he not deserve to die?”

“Why yes,” was my reluctant reply “but then it seems too terrible to go about the horrible business deliberately, and in cold blood.”

“He coolly and deliberately planned and effected the ruin of my peace, happiness and fortune,” rejoined Mrs. Raymond, in a tone of fixed determination “and it is therefore but just that he should be coolly and deliberately slain. Once more, farewell; by everything sacred, I swear that you shall not turn me from my purpose. My regard for you is great but, if you seek to detain me by force, your heart shall be made acquainted with the point of my knife!”

“I have no idea of using force,” said I, reproachfully “but, if I had, no such threat as the one which you have just now made, would deter me. Go, my friend, go do as you will; but I will go with you, for I swear that I will not leave you.”

This announcement deeply affected Mrs. Raymond, who embraced me and begged my pardon for the language which she had used.

“Forgive me, my best, my only friend,” said she “the loyalty and devotion which you have always manifested towards me should have prompted different expressions. If you are determined to accompany me, and see me through this business, follow me.”

I obeyed, hoping to be able to prevent the perpetration of the terrible deed which she meditated.

She rang the bell at the door, which was opened by a servant.

“I wish to see your master, instantly, on particular business,” said the disguised woman.

“What name, sir?” demanded the servant.

“It matters not. Say to Mr. Livingston that two gentlemen wish to see him on business of the greatest importance.”

The servant disappeared, but soon returned, saying that she would conduct us to her master.

We followed her into a handsomely furnished library, where Mr. Livingston was seated, looking over some letters. He glanced at us carelessly, and said

“Well, young gentlemen, what can I do for you to-day? Do you wish to consult me on any matter of law? I am entirely at your service.”

It was evident that the villain did not recognize the woman whom he had so basely wronged.

Mrs. Raymond uttered not one single word, but, thrusting her hand into her bosom, she slowly approached the author of her ruin, who still continued to peruse his letters in entire unconsciousness of the terrible danger that hung over him.

I watched Mrs. Raymond with the closest attention, fully determined to spring forward at the critical moment and prevent the desperate woman from accomplishing her deadly purpose.

It was a deeply interesting and thrilling scene, and one which I shall never forget. There sat the intended victim, whose soul was hovering on the awful precincts of an endless eternity; there stood the avenger of her own wrongs, her right hand nervously grasping the hilt of the weapon in her bosom, her face deadly pale, and her eyes flashing with wild excitement. And there I stood, trembling with agitation, and ready to spring forward at the proper time to prevent the consummation of a bloody tragedy.

Mr. Livingston suddenly looked up from his letters, and started when he beheld the pale and wrathful countenance of Mrs. Raymond, whose eyes were fixed upon him with an expression of the most deadly hatred.

“Your face seems strongly familiar to me; have we not met before?” asked Livingston.

“Yes,” calmly replied Mrs. Raymond “we have met before.”

“That voice!” cried the doomed villain “surely I know it. Who are you, and what want you with me?”

“I am the victim of your treacherous villainy, and I want revenge!” screamed Mrs. Raymond, as, with the quickness of lightning, and before I could prevent her, she drew her weapon and plunged it into the heart of Livingston, who fell from his chair to the floor and died instantly.

“Now I am satisfied,” said the woman, as she coolly wiped the blood from the blade of her knife.

Language cannot depict the horror which the contemplation of this bloody deed caused within me. True, I had myself slain a human being but then it was done in self-defence, and amid all the heat and excitement of a personal contest. This deed, on the contrary, had been committed, coolly and deliberately; and, although Mrs. Raymond’s wrongs were undoubtedly very great, I really could not find it in my heart to justify her in what she had done.

How bitterly I reproached myself for not having adopted some effectual means of hindering the performance of that appalling deed, even at the risk of incurring Mrs. Raymond’s severe and eternal displeasure! I felt myself to be in some measure an accessory to the crime; and I feared the law would, at all events, consider me as such.

“What is done cannot be helped now,” said I to Mrs. Raymond, who stood calmly surveying the body of her victim “come let us leave the house and seek safety in flight. We may possibly escape the consequence of this bloody act.”

“No,” said the woman I shall not stir an inch. I have relieved the world of a monster, and now I am ready to receive my reward, even if it be the scaffold. But go, my friend go, and secure your own safety.”

“No, I will not leave you, even if I have to share your fate,” was my reply. That was a very foolish determination, I admit; for how could my remaining with her, do her any good? I was merely placing myself in a position of the utmost peril. But I thought it wrong to desert Mrs. Raymond in that dark and trying hour; and therefore, as she refused to escape, I resolved to remain with her.

Some one softly opened the door, and a female voice said

“My dear, are you particularly engaged? May I come in?”

Hearing no reply, the fair speaker entered with a smile on her rosy lips. This lady was the newly-made wife of Livingston. She had been, of course, in happy ignorance of his true character, and of the fact that he was already the husband of several wives.

On seeing us, she evinced surprise, for she knew not of her husband having visitors. Suddenly, her eyes fell upon Livingston’s bleeding corpse, which lay upon the floor. On seeing this horrid spectacle, she gave utterance to a piercing scream, and fell down insensible.

That shrill, agonizing scream penetrated every part of the house, and brought all the inmates to the library, to see what had happened. Horror took possession of the group, as they gazed upon the awful scene. For a few minutes, there reigned the most profound silence. This was at last broken by one of the male servants, who demanded

“Who has done this?”

“I did it,” replied Mrs. Raymond, calmly, “I alone am guilty. Here is the weapon with which I did the deed. This young man here is entirely innocent; he tried to prevent the act, but I was too quick for him. Let me be conveyed at once to prison.”

Officers being sent for, soon arrived and took us both into custody, notwithstanding the passionate protestations of Mrs. Raymond that I had no hand whatever in the affair.

“That must be shown to the satisfaction of higher authorities than we are,” said one of the officers. “At all events, it is our duty to secure this young man as a witness. If he is innocent, he will doubtless be able to prove it.”

Half an hour afterwards, I was an inmate of the Pittsburg jail, in an apartment adjoining that occupied by Mrs. Raymond, whose real sex still remained undiscovered.