"I don't mean that you should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir," said the man. “Couldn't expect it. Am very willing to pay a reward for the finding of the animal—that is to say, anything in reason."
"Well," replied my friend, "that is all very fair, to be sure. Let me think!—what should I have! Oh! I will tell you. My reward shall be this. You shall give me all the information in your power about these murders in the Rue Morgue."
Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and very quietly. Just as quietly, too, he walked towards the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. He then drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it, without the least flurry, upon the table.
The sailor's face flushed up as if he were struggling with suffocation. He started to his feet and grasped his cudgel, but the next moment he fell back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the countenance of death itself. He spoke not a word. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart.
"My friend," said Dupin in a kind tone, "you are alarming yourself unnecessarily—you are indeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I pledge you the honor of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we intend you no injury. I perfectly well know that you are innocent of the atrocities in the Rue Morgue. It will not do, however, to deny that you are in some measure implicated in them. From what I have already said, you must know that I have had means of information about this matter—means of which you could never have dreamed. Now the thing stands thus. You have done nothing which you could have avoided—nothing, certainly, which renders you culpable. You were not even guilty of robbery when you might have robbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal. You have no reason for concealment. On the other
