I prayed that he would not fly into a fit. If he lost control, it would only prove to them that they were right in their suspicions. I longed to run out and tell them the truth: that Henry Clerval was brokenhearted, not missing, and that any suspicious deaths were doubtless the work of the fiend, seeking everywhere to sow his murderous chaos and make Victor’s life a living hell.

But how could I make my case without sounding like a madwoman?

“Tell me where my son is!” a voice demanded. Henry’s father. So he had found Victor. There were some scuffling noises and a metallic clink, though nothing that sounded like a struggle.

“Look in that building,” one of the men directed. I froze, then darted behind the door. It opened inward, perfectly shielding me. A dark figure peered inside. All that greeted him was an empty table and the lamp I had thankfully dimmed.

He backed out and closed the door. “Nothing in there.”

“Nothing?” Victor exclaimed, his voice getting higher. I trembled, fearing what might come next. But he began to laugh. The sound had an edge to it that was worrisome, as bitter and howling as the night. At least Victor did not seem to be fighting them.

I collapsed against the wall with relief. If they had come but an hour earlier, they would have found Justine’s body! Doubtless they would have assumed evil on Victor’s part. I had not saved him from the monster. But I had saved him from himself and from the false judgment of the world. Though he was not entirely innocent—he had created the monster that had done these things—he was no murderer. His crimes were pride and ambition, stepping beyond the boundaries God set for the world. How did one punish those? The monster, surely, was punishing him enough.

The footsteps departed, taking Victor’s laughter with them.

I weighed my options, agonizing over my next course of action. Should I follow them? Plead Victor’s innocence?

And then I laughed. The monster, in its evil spree of violence, had created the safest refuge imaginable for Victor. It had no hope of getting to Victor in a prison cell. And I knew from the letters I had read that Victor’s father was already in the country. He would find Victor and easily secure his release. After that, they would travel home together, again preventing any mischief from the monster, which seemed loath to be seen by anyone but Victor.

I had not destroyed the monster, nor had I directly rescued Victor. But my trip here was not in vain.