Now here, of course, the
      suspicion is not that, in consequence of these communications, or
      of the public attention by them directed, the articles were found
      by the boys; but the suspicion might and may well have been, that
      the articles were not before found by the boys, for the reason
      that the articles had not before been in the thicket; having been
      deposited there only at so late a period as at the date, or
      shortly prior to the date of the communication, by the guilty
      authors of these communications themselves. “This thicket was a singular—an exceedingly singular one. It was
      unusually dense. Within its naturally walled enclosure were three
      extraordinary stones, forming a seat with a back and footstool. And this thicket, so full of a natural art, was in the immediate
      vicinity, within a few rods, of the dwelling of Madame Deluc,
      whose boys were in the habit of closely examining the shrubberies
      about them in search of the bark of the sassafras. Would it be a
      rash wager—a wager of one thousand to one—that a day never passed
      over the heads of these boys without finding at least one of them
      ensconced in the umbrageous hall, and enthroned upon its natural
      throne? Those who would hesitate at such a wager, have either
      never been boys themselves, or have forgotten the boyish nature. I repeat—it is exceedingly hard to comprehend how the articles
      could have remained in this thicket undiscovered, for a longer
      period than one or two days; and that thus there is good ground
      for suspicion, in spite of the dogmatic ignorance of Le Soleil,
      that they were, at a comparatively late date, deposited where
      found. “But there are still other and stronger reasons for believing
      them so deposited, than any which I have as yet urged. And, now,
      let me beg your notice to the highly artificial arrangement of
      the articles. On the _upper_ stone lay a white petticoat; on the
      _second_, a silk scarf; scattered around, were a parasol, gloves,
      and a pocket-handkerchief bearing the name, ‘Marie Rogêt.’ Here
      is just such an arrangement as would naturally be made by a not
      over-acute person wishing to dispose the articles naturally. But
      it is by no means a really natural arrangement. I should rather
      have looked to see the things all lying on the ground and
      trampled under foot. In the narrow limits of that bower, it would
      have been scarcely possible that the petticoat and scarf should
      have retained a position upon the stones, when subjected to the
      brushing to and fro of many struggling persons. ‘There was
      evidence,’ it is said, ‘of a struggle; and the earth was
      trampled, the bushes were broken,’—but the petticoat and the
      scarf are found deposited as if upon shelves. ‘The pieces of the
      frock torn out by the bushes were about three inches wide and six
      inches long. One part was the hem of the frock and it had been
      mended. They looked like strips torn off.’ Here, inadvertently,
      Le Soleil has employed an exceedingly suspicious phrase. The
      pieces, as described, do indeed ‘look like strips torn off;’ but
      purposely and by hand. It is one of the rarest of accidents that
      a piece is ‘torn off,’ from any garment such as is now in
      question, by the agency of a thorn. From the very nature of such
      fabrics, a thorn or nail becoming entangled in them, tears them
      rectangularly—divides them into two longitudinal rents, at right
      angles with each other, and meeting at an apex where the thorn
      enters—but it is scarcely possible to conceive the piece ‘torn
      off.’ I never so knew it, nor did you. To tear a piece off from
      such fabric, two distinct forces, in different directions, will
      be, in almost every case, required. If there be two edges to the
      fabric—if, for example, it be a pocket-handkerchief, and it is
      desired to tear from it a slip, then, and then only, will the one
      force serve the purpose. But in the present case the question is
      of a dress, presenting but one edge. To tear a piece from the
      interior, where no edge is presented, could only be effected by a
      miracle through the agency of thorns, and no one thorn could
      accomplish it. But, even where an edge is presented, two thorns
      will be necessary, operating, the one in two distinct directions,
      and the other in one. And this in the supposition that the edge
      is unhemmed. If hemmed, the matter is nearly out of the question. We thus see the numerous and great obstacles in the way of pieces
      being ‘torn off’ through the simple agency of ‘thorns;’ yet we
      are required to believe not only that one piece but that many
      have been so torn. ‘And one part,’ too, ‘was the hem of the
      frock!’ Another piece was ‘part of the skirt, not the hem,’—that
      is to say, was torn completely out through the agency of thorns,
      from the uncaged interior of the dress! These, I say, are things
      which one may well be pardoned for disbelieving; yet, taken
      collectedly, they form, perhaps, less of reasonable ground for
      suspicion, than the one startling circumstance of the articles’
      having been left in this thicket at all, by any murderers who had
      enough precaution to think of removing the corpse. You will not
      have apprehended me rightly, however, if you suppose it my design
      to deny this thicket as the scene of the outrage. There might
      have been a wrong here, or, more possibly, an accident at Madame
      Deluc’s. But, in fact, this is a point of minor importance. We
      are not engaged in an attempt to discover the scene, but to
      produce the perpetrators of the murder. What I have adduced,
      notwithstanding the minuteness with which I have adduced it, has
      been with the view, first, to show the folly of the positive and
      headlong assertions of Le Soleil, but secondly and chiefly, to
      bring you, by the most natural route, to a further contemplation
      of the doubt whether this assassination has, or has not, been the
      work of a gang. “We will resume this question by mere allusion to the revolting
      details of the surgeon examined at the inquest. It is only
      necessary to say that his published inferences, in regard to the
      number of ruffians, have been properly ridiculed as unjust and
      totally baseless, by all the reputable anatomists of Paris. Not
      that the matter might not have been as inferred, but that there
      was no ground for the inference:—was there not much for another? “Let us reflect now upon ‘the traces of a struggle;’ and let me
      ask what these traces have been supposed to demonstrate. A gang. But do they not rather demonstrate the absence of a gang?