Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 February 1887 — A STARTLING STORY. [ARTICLE]

A STARTLING STORY.

The Tale That an Old Frenchman Told Between His Cups of Gin. Philadelphia North American: Charles De L. Armon, who has been staying under an assumed name at the Girard House for some days, has, if he may be believed, most remarkable history, whttjk is about to have Rdded to he most startling passages-mbt it has known. Warmed by a oombination of gin, champagne and oogna« whioh h© had imbibed, the tacitur- old man became garrulous the evening before his depel&r© from the city last week, and, after talking to a North American reporter in a rambling way about 4 “La Belle France” for some time, suddenly became mysterious in his manner, and, with a word or two of invitation, led the way to his room on an upper floor. “I never go in an elevator,” said h«, as h paused a moment at the top of the first flight of stairs to anathematize his short breath.— “They give me the horrors.” “Why?” asked the report r. “I think too much when in them of the Commune. It has a story that was never known.” “What is that?’’ “Wait till we are in my room, when I will tell you what I can and no more, for I must not put my neck under the knife.” “They’d chop your head off over the a if they got hold of you, then, would they?” was asked when the room had been reached and the old man had seated himself and Ins visitor, one on each side of the wash-stand, which stood in the middle of the room and bore a black bottle, a paper of sugar and two tumblers. The old man didn’t answer for a moment. He wfes inVft the boitia, - yet more than half full of gm. “It’s as cold as !”

lie liad pulled a pitcher from under the corner of the bed and stuck his finger into the water. Then he called a waiter and sent for a pitcher of hot water, and until it came which it did in are nmrkably shortspace of time, he spent the minutes in cursing the slownes o p hotel waiters in generrd, d t at one in particular. A s’e-o ng d ass of gin and water se i up a grateful odor to the old m s n drils and he sipped it sl< wly. Then he pulled a lemon fr> mho coat-tail pocket, and, after plugging a pen-knife into it half a dozen times, squeezed it over the glass. A little more sugar and it was satisfactory; and then he pushed the whole batch —bottle, pitcher, sugar, lemon and water— toward his visitor, with an air which seemed* to say that hospitality’s mission had been fulfilled. The reporter didn’t car •» for gin, but he satisfied his host by mixing a glassful of not water and sugar with an imaginary stiffness from the bottle, and then repeated his former question:

“They’d slice your head oft, wo’d they?’ “No, i guess not. Not now. — There’s been a tim when they would, and who knows but it again may come? Franc is so much for change. It was in the Empire that they would’ have had my life, and why ?”and the old Freuchman leaned forward with his eyes gleaming like balls of fire, and hissed between his teeth: “For thet I fought for the Republic.” “Yes, it was a T.bing of danger to do when I fought. It was in beautiful Paris, ground down by Napoleon. Three bravo hearts and I swor j that Par's and (>ur dear France should be free, and we went in the nigh* to the palace|where the Emperor slept. I knew its passoges well, for I did Service there before; and we made our way near to the chamber where the despot slept. But we were too brave, and Louis Petolet, wkd* walked wtth me, fell before a saber. Op the Epot, too, weie his brother Francois and our compan-

ion, Pierre Amoulie, caught by the hirelings of the house, while I alone made safe my escape from the passage where we were sur prised. But I did not go free from the palace. W e three were bound with .i chain toge her and thrown into a dungeon. □ 1 ’hrst Pierre was taken away. When he had been gone, so near as we in the dark could tell, three days he was brought to us again. He told ‘where he had been. It was in an iron cage, with a closed floor and top and barred sides. It hung beside a beautiful room, wherein <i guard of soldiers sat, and where sometimes the Emperor would come. Pierre crouched for a day on the floor and then slept there at night. The next day he found fastened to the bars one small tablet Then he saw it was lettered and his sentence was there— a sentenoe of death. It read this way: “‘Three days in the cage. Three days with your fellows. Three days to sink into the water, and three days to boil lo death.’ “It was then for three days that lie was in the cage. The third day it was that the cage was let slowly down through a long, deep flue, and Pierre found that lie had been put into water, with but just the room to keep his head above. — “hen he was brought to us back, and he was nearl crazed. Three days and they took him. They knew that lie had told us what we might next expect. AVe never again saw him. Then it waß that Louis went, and when he came to me back lie told that he was in the cage where PioiWs bones and flesh that had been boiled from them away. He never came to me buck, and I was to go next, but a good friend that was made a guard over me, and lovod me and the Republic, set me free. He fled from Paris with me and to America.— While I am gone my father dies, and my brother Jean has all that I" '6ftife will give me nothing until I have written to him a lie. i guy my father made a will, and all he left to me, I say I will to him come back or take from him all, or J will light with him with sabers for ono-haiL Ho savs to me he will light with me with sabers for the all, but it must be in the dark, for I am better with a sword than is he,” “Ha!” • . , ihe old man had emptied his third tumbler of gin and water, and as he put the tumbler down with his left hand, he thrust his right under the clothes of his bed and brought out A gloaming sword, which he whirled about bis head like lightning as he sprang to the center of the room. “Be not afraid at all,” as the visitor started from his chair. I only show you that with thesworl I yet am young. Ah! I shall nave in France a fine estate.”

“And your brother?” “We fight to the death. He has said it, for he believes thatj I have the will, and that while I live he can no! be safe.” “Ah, boy, do you wonder that I can not ride in the elevator? It is of Pierre and Louis I think.”— And the old Frenchman, who had no apparent compunctions in regard to slaying his brother, shuddered with horror. Then he pulled from under the bed-clothes another sword, and said: “This for my brother.—Thought them here.” On the hilt of this one was engrave' “Jean Arinon,” and on the other “Charles DeL. Armon.” “Well, it is to-morrow I go,” said Armon, as he thrust the two weapons back into the bed: “ W hat, must you go? Then good-by, boy.” Idaville Observer: Dr. McAllister returned on Monday after a futile search for his m th r between St. Louis and Kansas City, without the slightest clue to her whereabouts. Is it possible that the horrible mystery shrouding the lamentablelate of the missing lady will never be cleared? This is perhaps one of the most baffling cases of utter disappearance ever known..