japanese tales of mystery and imagination by edogawa rampo

THE TWINS (A CONDEMNED CRIMINAL'S CONFESSION TO A PRIEST)

TATHER, I'VE FINALLY MADE UP my mind to confess to you. My day ofexecution is drawing nearer; and I want to make a clean breast ofall my sins, for I feel that this is the only way I can obtain a fewdays of peace before I die. So I beg you to spare me some of your valuabletime to hear the story of my wicked life.

As you know, I've been sentenced to death for the crime of killing a manand stealing two million yen from his safe. I did in fact commit that crime, butno one suspects me of anything more than that. So, now that I am destined toface my Maker, there is no reason on earth why I should confess to anothercrime far more diabolical. But my heart is set on confessing all while there isyet time; after I have paid the supreme penalty, my lips will be sealed forever.

After you've heard my confession, Father, I beseech you to tell my wifeeverything, for it is only right that she should know too. The greatest ofblackguards often turn out to be good men when death is near at hand. I thinkmy wife would hate me forever if I were to die without confessing to theother crime as well. And there's yet one more reason. I've always had a lividfear of the vengeance of the man I murdered! No, I don't mean the one I killedwhen I stole the money. That case is already closed, for I have alreadyconfessed my guilt. The fact is, I committed another murder before that. Andwhenever I think of my first victim I almost go mad with terror.

The first man I sent to his grave was my elder brother- but he was noordinary brother. We were twins, born from our mothers womb almostsimultaneously.

Although he has long been dead, he haunts me day and night. In mydreams he treads on my chest with the weight of a thousand pounds; and thenhe clutches me by the throat and chokes me. In the daytime he appears on thewall there and stares at me with ghastly eyes, or shows his face in thatwindow and laughs at me grimly. And the fact that we were twins, identical toeach other in looks, in the shapes of our bodies, in everything, made things allthe worse. No sooner had I killed him than he began to appear before meevery time I looked at myself. When I think about the past it seems to me thatit was my brothers desire for revenge that made me commit the secondmurder, which led to my ultimate undoing.

From the moment I cut off my twin's life, I began to fear all mirrors. Infact, not only mirrors, but everything that reflected. I removed every mirrorand all the glassware in my house. But what was the use? All the shops on thestreets had show windows, and behind them, more mirrors glittered. The moreI tried not to look at them, the more my eyes were attracted to them. And,wherever I gazed, his face-his mad, leering face-stared back at me, full ofvengeance; it was, of course, my own face.

Once in front of a mirror-shop I almost fainted, for there I was set uponnot just by one face of the man I had killed, but by thousands of his faces,with a number of eyes that seemed incredible.

Although I was greatly dismayed by such illusions, my spirit did notbreak; I was reassured and emboldened by the firm belief that the schemewhich I had concocted in this clever head of mine could never be exposed.And the constant strain on my mind, making it necessary for me to beperpetually on the alert and never to relax even for a fleeting moment, gaveme no time to be afraid. But, now that I am a prisoner, my mind is too weakto resist, and his ghost, taking advantage of my monotonous life in prison, hasgained complete possession of my senses. Thus ever since being condemnedto the gallows, I have been living in a perpetual nightmare.

Although there is no mirror in this jail, he appears in the reflection of myface in the water when I wash or take a bath. Even the surfaces of tableware,glistening hardware, and, in fact, anything that reflects light, gives back to methe sight of his image, now large, now small. Even my shadow cast by thesunlight from that window there scares me. And, worst of all, I dread seeingmy own body, for it, too, is an exact replica of that of my dead brother, downto the faintest wrinkle.