At the end of the tenth day it was thought
      advisable to double the sum originally proposed; and, at length,
      the second week having elapsed without leading to any
      discoveries, and the prejudice which always exists in Paris
      against the Police having given vent to itself in several serious
      émeutes, the Prefect took it upon himself to offer the sum of
      twenty thousand francs “for the conviction of the assassin,” or,
      if more than one should prove to have been implicated, “for the
      conviction of any one of the assassins.” In the proclamation
      setting forth this reward, a full pardon was promised to any
      accomplice who should come forward in evidence against his
      fellow; and to the whole was appended, wherever it appeared, the
      private placard of a committee of citizens, offering ten thousand
      francs, in addition to the amount proposed by the Prefecture. The
      entire reward thus stood at no less than thirty thousand francs,
      which will be regarded as an extraordinary sum when we consider
      the humble condition of the girl, and the great frequency, in
      large cities, of such atrocities as the one described. No one doubted now that the mystery of this murder would be
      immediately brought to light. But although, in one or two
      instances, arrests were made which promised elucidation, yet
      nothing was elicited which could implicate the parties suspected;
      and they were discharged forthwith. Strange as it may appear, the
      third week from the discovery of the body had passed, and passed
      without any light being thrown upon the subject, before even a
      rumor of the events which had so agitated the public mind,
      reached the ears of Dupin and myself. Engaged in researches which
      absorbed our whole attention, it had been nearly a month since
      either of us had gone abroad, or received a visitor, or more than
      glanced at the leading political articles in one of the daily
      papers. The first intelligence of the murder was brought us by
      G——, in person. He called upon us early in the afternoon of the
      thirteenth of July, 18—, and remained with us until late in the
      night. He had been piqued by the failure of all his endeavors to
      ferret out the assassins. His reputation—so he said with a
      peculiarly Parisian air—was at stake. Even his honor was
      concerned. The eyes of the public were upon him; and there was
      really no sacrifice which he would not be willing to make for the
      development of the mystery. He concluded a somewhat droll speech
      with a compliment upon what he was pleased to term the tact of
      Dupin, and made him a direct, and certainly a liberal
      proposition, the precise nature of which I do not feel myself at
      liberty to disclose, but which has no bearing upon the proper
      subject of my narrative. The compliment my friend rebutted as best he could, but the
      proposition he accepted at once, although its advantages were
      altogether provisional. This point being settled, the Prefect
      broke forth at once into explanations of his own views,
      interspersing them with long comments upon the evidence; of which
      latter we were not yet in possession. He discoursed much, and
      beyond doubt, learnedly; while I hazarded an occasional
      suggestion as the night wore drowsily away. Dupin, sitting
      steadily in his accustomed arm-chair, was the embodiment of
      respectful attention. He wore spectacles, during the whole
      interview; and an occasional signal glance beneath their green
      glasses, sufficed to convince me that he slept not the less
      soundly, because silently, throughout the seven or eight
      leaden-footed hours which immediately preceded the departure of
      the Prefect. In the morning, I procured, at the Prefecture, a full report of
      all the evidence elicited, and, at the various newspaper offices,
      a copy of every paper in which, from first to last, had been
      published any decisive information in regard to this sad affair. Freed from all that was positively disproved, this mass of
      information stood thus:

      Marie Rogêt left the residence of her mother, in the Rue Pavée
      St. Andrée, about nine o’clock in the morning of Sunday, June the
      twenty-second, 18—. In going out, she gave notice to a Monsieur
      Jacques St. Eustache, (*7) and to him only, of her intention to
      spend the day with an aunt who resided in the Rue des Drômes. The
      Rue des Drômes is a short and narrow but populous thoroughfare,
      not far from the banks of the river, and at a distance of some
      two miles, in the most direct course possible, from the pension
      of Madame Rogêt. St. Eustache was the accepted suitor of Marie,
      and lodged, as well as took his meals, at the pension. He was to
      have gone for his betrothed at dusk, and to have escorted her
      home. In the afternoon, however, it came on to rain heavily; and,
      supposing that she would remain all night at her aunt’s, (as she
      had done under similar circumstances before,) he did not think
      it necessary to keep his promise. As night drew on, Madame Rogêt
      (who was an infirm old lady, seventy years of age,) was heard to
      express a fear “that she should never see Marie again;” but this
      observation attracted little attention at the time. On Monday, it was ascertained that the girl had not been to the
      Rue des Drômes; and when the day elapsed without tidings of her,
      a tardy search was instituted at several points in the city, and
      its environs. It was not, however until the fourth day from the
      period of disappearance that any thing satisfactory was
      ascertained respecting her. On this day, (Wednesday, the
      twenty-fifth of June,) a Monsieur Beauvais, (*8) who, with a
      friend, had been making inquiries for Marie near the Barrière du
      Roule, on the shore of the Seine which is opposite the Rue Pavée
      St. Andrée, was informed that a corpse had just been towed ashore
      by some fishermen, who had found it floating in the river. Upon
      seeing the body, Beauvais, after some hesitation, identified it
      as that of the perfumery-girl. His friend recognized it more
      promptly. The face was suffused with dark blood, some of which issued from
      the mouth. No foam was seen, as in the case of the merely
      drowned. There was no discoloration in the cellular tissue. About
      the throat were bruises and impressions of fingers. The arms were
      bent over on the chest and were rigid. The right hand was
      clenched; the left partially open. On the left wrist were two
      circular excoriations, apparently the effect of ropes, or of a
      rope in more than one volution.