The murderer

In Short

This short story follows a man who, having murdered his uncle for an inheritance, realizes he left behind a monogrammed cigarette case that would surely link him to the scene. He returns to the dark, rain-swept house to retrieve it, but finds himself locked in a psychological battle with the corpse. As he struggles to reclaim his property, he is plagued by inexplicable, rhythmic tapping and the sensation of being watched. The story is a taut, atmospheric study of guilt and paranoia, enduring as a classic example of pulp-era suspense.

The Story

The protagonist is a man consumed by greed. He has carefully planned the murder of his uncle, a wealthy and notoriously stingy recluse who lives in a house devoid of luxuries, kept only by a canary and a cat. After shooting the old man, the nephew flees, but the sudden, chilling realization that he left his personal cigarette case behind sends him racing back. He knows that his alibi is perfect—provided that this single piece of evidence is not found by the authorities.

He re-enters the house, finding it shrouded in darkness and rain. His senses, heightened by adrenaline and terror, detect the lingering scent of gunpowder and cigarettes. The uncle sits in a chair, dead, a crimson blotch staining his chest. Yet, the house is not as empty as it should be. The murderer hears a distinct, meditatively rhythmic drumming of fingertips against a table. To his horror, the movement seems to come from the chair occupied by the dead man. Panic sets in; he imagines the corpse’s eyes opening and the stiff, claw-like fingers moving with a malevolent, secret joy.

He flashes his light, confirming the man is dead, but the terror persists. The cigarette case, which he had left on the table, has vanished. He searches for it, his movements frantic, while the sounds of "tapping" continue, filling him with the irrational belief that the dead man is toying with him. The murderer is trapped in a loop of returning to the table, desperate to erase his connection to the crime, only to be driven away by a fresh surge of supernatural dread. At one point, he feels a tugging at his pant leg. He screams, terrified that the corpse is pulling him toward his own doom. He collapses, knocking over the chair and the telephone in a blind frenzy.

The local telephone operator, who had been listening to the strange noises through an open line, alerts the authorities. When they arrive, they find the killer crawling on the floor, his mind shattered by the ordeal. The "thing" that had been pulling at his clothes is revealed to be the uncle’s large, playful cat. The story concludes at the inquest. The coroner, sitting in the very chair where the man died, is himself bothered by the cat, which bats at his coat with the same rhythmic persistence that broke the murderer. When the coroner’s own cigarette falls into his pocket, he jokes about the incident, unaware that his trivial annoyance is the final, mocking echo of the crime.

How It Unfolds

The return to the dark The murderer sneaks back into the house, desperate to retrieve the incriminating cigarette case he accidentally left behind. He is immediately unsettled by the utter silence, broken only by the rhythmic, taunting sounds of something he cannot identify in the room.

A confrontation with the dead He flashes his light upon the corpse, confirming the man is dead, yet he remains convinced the body is moving. A sequence of impossible sounds and missing items fuels his mounting hysteria, as he becomes certain the corpse is mocking him.

The descent into panic Driven by the fear of the noose, the man persists in his search despite his growing terror of the dead figure. He believes the corpse is using the cigarette case as a lure to pull him into a lethal, spectral trap.

The final discovery The murderer breaks down, screaming as he feels something tugging at his leg in the dark. The arrival of the police ends his nightmare, revealing that his "supernatural" pursuer was nothing more than a pet cat.

The People

The murderer is a man defined by his cold, calculating greed. He views his uncle as a mere obstacle to wealth and has dehumanized everyone around him to justify his actions. His downfall is not caused by a failure of his plan, but by the collapse of his own nerves; his capacity to project his guilt onto the world around him turns a simple animal into a divine instrument of justice.

The uncle is a miserly recluse whose presence dominates the story even after his death. He is established through the murderer’s own eyes as a man who lived a life of deliberate, petty economy—refusing to pay for guards or help, yet keeping a cat to handle the "nuisance" of living things. His influence persists through the cat, which mirrors his own restless, tapping habits.

The cat is the unintentional agent of chaos. It possesses no malice, yet its playful, instinctual pouncing on the murderer’s clothes creates the exact psychological pressure needed to drive the killer to madness. It serves as a grounded, ironic contrast to the murderer’s supernatural fears.

The coroner provides the story’s final, detached perspective. His annoyance at the cat’s behavior serves to highlight the mundanity of the situation, contrasting sharply with the life-or-death panic the murderer felt in the exact same spot.

In Its Own Voice

The murderer’s initial entry into the house sets a tone of claustrophobic dread and immediate regret.

The murderer had left this room half an hour before, maybe only twenty minutes before.

The physical sensation of the killer’s terror, manifested through his own imagination, drives the narrative.

The murderer stood teetering upon his toes, with his hand outstretched and touching the wall, fighting against an unnameable fear.

The story concludes with an ironic observation from the coroner, grounding the horrific experience in the reality of a minor inconvenience.

"If that cigarette had been in its case, now," said the coroner, smiling at his own feeble joke, "it wouldn't have done any harm."

What It's Really About

The story functions as a psychological exploration of the "guilty conscience." The murderer is not caught by traditional detective work or forensic evidence; he is caught by his own projection. The central theme is the way fear and guilt can rewrite reality, turning a house of death into a house of horrors. It asks whether the punishment for a crime is something external—like the law—or an internal state of collapse. The uncle’s miserly, restless nature is effectively "passed on" to the cat, suggesting that the patterns of the dead continue to haunt the living, not because of ghosts, but because of the indelible mark left on the environment and the mind of the perpetrator.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate classic, hard-boiled suspense will find much to admire in this tightly wound narrative. It feels like a precursor to the psychological thrillers of the mid-20th century, focusing more on the internal unraveling of a villain than on the mechanics of a police investigation. The prose is lean and efficient, capturing the frantic, jagged rhythm of a mind under siege.

Modern readers should be aware that the story reflects the pulp sensibilities of its time, where melodrama and sudden, sharp violence are preferred over slow-burn character studies. The "period" nature of the writing is evident in the somewhat heightened language used to describe the killer's terror. However, the core of the story—the way a guilty mind turns small, natural stimuli into overwhelming evidence of its own doom—remains a powerful and relatable experience. It is a quick read, perfect for those who enjoy a story that balances a genuine, creeping sense of dread with a final, ironic twist. The image of the coroner sitting in the same chair as the dead man, annoyed by the same cat, leaves a lingering sense of dark, inevitable humor that stays with you long after the final page.