But it wasn’t Katarina who discovered Arsénie; it was Mlle. Foucault. She had arrived at Kosančićev Venac at six o’clock in the morning, her usual hour. As a rule Arsénie was up by that time, and Mlle. Foucault instantly suspected something was wrong when she didn’t hear noises from his study. She called him but got no answer. The study was locked from the inside. She aroused Mr. Martinović, who broke down the door. Arsénie was on the floor dead. The manuscript was on his desk. Glancing through it, Katarina discovered the legacy to Isidor. I had been Isidor’s closest friend, so she asked to see me. She gave me the manuscript to decipher and use as I saw fit.
My request to see the dead man was granted. I went into the study: a roll-top bureau containing a card index, an oak table, and a huge armchair were piled by the door. Arsénie had improvised a barricade, as if to defend himself against something. The shades were down. The desk lamp was still lit. Arsénie was lying in the middle of the room, his head on the carpet, one arm stretched out toward the window, the other squeezed under his body. Judging by the position of the corpse, the heart seizure had come just as the old man had gone to open the window. He was wearing an austere black suit and light summer shoes over black cotton socks. A semiprecious stone gleamed in his tiepin. In his pocket we found his watch, which wasn’t working, and a Mauser automatic. I don’t think the automatic was working either, but I can’t be sure.
The manuscript was made up of two separate sections, the private notes written on one set of account forms, and the will on another, although Arsénie was not always consistent. Toward the end his generally legible and decorative hand-writing had become somewhat untidy, his thoughts rambling.
From a purely legal aspect, the will was valid. However, except in the case of Katarina, its provisions couldn’t be carried out. All Arsénie’s houses had long ago been expropriated, and the more dilapidated ones pulled down. But even if that hadn’t been the case, and if by some chance the Revolution hadn’t come about, Arsénie’s will could still not have been followed as he had conceived it. At the time the will was written, Arsénie’s universal heir had already been dead for six months (Isidor committed suicide on October 20, 1967). The only other provision that could possibly be carried out concerned Arsénie’s gravestone, and that only partially. As stated earlier, some of his houses had been demolished, making it impossible to obtain a cornerstone from each. I can’t guarantee anything, but I still hope that, as the voluntary heir to Isidor’s obligations, I shall be able to fulfill at least this one wish of Arsénie’s — as soon, of course, as my financial situation improves.