Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 291, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 December 1912 — TRUTH ABOUT THE CASE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TRUTH ABOUT THE CASE

- - The Experiences of M. F. Goroiy Ex-Chief of the Paris Detective Police Edited by Albert Keyser THE SOIREE AT THE RUE DE PRONY . . ' . . %

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iN MY Journal j when I note the many strange lnciI dents in which I I have played a part, I there are pages on which I do not I like to dwell. No, ) I do not care to glance on these

pages finishing in a note of interrogation, somber dramas of which I have known only the first two acts because th« princij al personages carried the remainder of the story with them into the tomb. These cases have caused me much worry and trouble, and one in particular, entered in my Journal as the "Soiree at the Rue de Prony.” ===== We have in Paris a large colony of Spaniards from South America —Chilians, Venezuelans, and others, as a rule enormously rich. They are pleas-ure-seekers, loud in their dress, noisy in their talk, ostentatious and vain, scattering their money broadcast, to the delight of the Paris tradesmen and restaurateurs. The people I shall call “Dominguez” had taken a charming little house in -the Rue de Prony, and, shortly after their arrival, gave an entertainment at which one hundred and forty people were present. When Monsieur and Madame Dominguez wept to their bedroom an unpleasapt surprise awaited them. The safe in the dressing room had been broken open, and everything in the way of money, Jewelry, and valuable documents abstracted. The next morning M. Dominguez’s card was brought to me while I was breakfasting, and I at once went to meet him. He was very excited and began by upbraiding the police for not looking after hie property; then he became a little calmer and asked me to accompany him to his house. Fortunately, nothing naa been disturbed there, and we went at once to the dressing room, where we found Madame standing with a rueful face before the £pen safe. No doubt was possible; it was the work of an artist in the profession, a man with a sure hand, who had not wasted time over the business. M. Dominguez was eyeing me curiously. t “Well, M. Goron?” he said. “This was not the work of a beginner,’-' I replied. “I am clever enough to see that, too,” he remarked with a laugh. Then, after a pause: “The thief must be found, M. Goron, do you understand? He must be found. Do not let expense Btand in the way; I am prepared to put down at once any sum that may be required. If M. Dominguez expected a reply he was disappointed, for Tcontlnued to make a careful investigation of the room in the hope of finding a clue. “Was any one in charge of the upstairs rooms during the evening?” I asked Madame. "Yes, one ot the maids.” - “Please send for her." The maid came, looking very scared. Evidently she knew' nothing, and I sent her about her business. "Did you notice anything displaced or disturbed when you entered the dressing room this morning?” was my next question. “No,” retorted Madame, “no; or, rather, yes. This porcelain cup, and the ivory paper cutter, that are always on the safe, had been placed on that chair ndar the bed.” The thief, whoever he was, had handled these articles, and they now became objects of interest. The cup did not present any remarkable features, except that the thin coating of dust did not speak a well-regulated housed hold. Then came the turn of the paper ~7cutter, a large affair with an enormous monogram, and there, on the white ivory, was a small pinkish stain. I felt convinced that the robbery had been committed by one of the guests, and inquired how many people they had entertained. "One hundred and forty-two.** “Kindly give me the names.” Madame went to fetch the list, and handed it to me. I counted the names; there were sixty-three. “Where are the others?” Madame turned red, and then said: "You see, JM. Goron, we have not been long in Paris, and I gave my friends blank invitation cards, whleh they filled up and sent te people among their own set.” ———— . "Then yon don’t know even the names of the remaining seventy-nine who spent the evening with you?*’ no; I remember perhaps half a dozen, but not the others.,” Things did not look promising. We entered the drawing room, which looked like a battlefield the day after the fight. Several of the small gilt chairs were hfoken, the china vases had been smashed, and there was a big tear In one of the pale yellow curtains. When Dominguez saw this devasta- ' tion his temper, never the most equable, apparently, again got the better of him. i "Dios mio!” he shouted, “there’s a night’s entertainment; a fine expensive evening. Everything smashed, end three hundred thousand francs’ worth of property stolen!** His eye

wandered around the room till • it rested on the piano, and he burst out afresh. “Look at my Erard!” he gasped, I looked, and felt sorry both for the man and for the Erard. Punch, champagne, lemonade, every refreshment served had left a mark on the Instrument, without reckoning the scratches and knocks, of which it bore numerous traces. Why Mid I not follow M. Dominguez when he walked to the door to conduct me to the diningroom? Why did I sit down on the music stool before that ill-used piano? I cannot tell. Ail I know is that I gazed at the greasy, smudgy keys, and thalr suddenly I felt something like an electric shock. For, there, on one of the keys, In the higher notes, Was a slight pinkish stain, similar to the one on the paper knife. This scene had not lasted a minute, and I caught M. Donfinguez in the' hall as he was turning back to see had become of the. “Still no clue, M. Goron?” asked the master of the house, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “Still no clue,” I retorted, “but I have a few questions to ask you. Who were the people who performed on the piano last night?” Madame fumbled about some papers and handed me the program of the musical portion of the soiree. There was a pianist, a violinist, a primadonna from the Opera Comique, and two Montmartre singers, all wellknown artists. “Now,” I said; “I want to know who played after the concert, and whether you engaged a pianiskfor the danceß.” “No, we had no professional The dance was impromptu, and the gentlemen took turns at the piano.” “Can you give me the names of these gentlemen?” „ “The names?” repeated Madame. “The names—let me think a moment. No, I only know one, M. de G . He played a sot. The four others had come to the house for the first time, and I did not know them. Do you remember any, Enrique?” I had no reason to he dissatisfied with my morning’s work. The robbery, I felt certain, had been committed by one of the guestß at the soiree, The case was of too delicate a nature to instrust it to any of my subordinates. I myself had to forge the clssin from the one link I hoped I possessed, and my first step was to send for M. de G —■—, whose address Madame Dominguez had given me. M. de G , who belonged 'to a very wealthy and highly esteemed family, replied promptly to my call. He had heard of the robbery, and I led the conversation oh the Dominguezes. “I do not know much about them,” he said, laughingly; “they are new arrivals, and, I am told, very rich. Madame Dominguez waß Introduced to' one of my aunts, and, as she was in want of young men, she sent me an invitation with the request to bring whom I liked. I never saw such a noisy gathering,, Some of the men were really too bad.” “You worked very hard,” I said, “and presided over the piano?” “Well, not exactly. I did my share, but others, too, banged away as hard as I did.” “Who were the others?” He grinned at me a moment. “Do you, also, want to give a soiree, M. Goron? If so, don’t engage any/ Of that crowd, because they have no respect for pianos. But to tell you the truth, I only know one, a painter. I don’t know where he- lives, but he goes every night to Duval’s, Place de la Madeleine.” “Will you do me the kindness to dine with me there this evening?” I asked. “With pleasure,” he retorted, and that same night we were in the wellknown “Bouillon,” waiting for the painter-pianist. = My young friend kept a careful watch, and eight o’clock had struck when he cried out: "Hurrah! there he is. And—but that’s really funny. You are in luck, M. Goron. Do you see the chap he is with? He, too, was one of the musical ornaments of the soiree.” Even before looking at the two young men I was convinced that Ufelther of them tfras likely to be the burglar. r We waited till the two gentlemen had finished their dinner and put on their hats, when M. de G went up and introduced them to me, and I invited them to accompany me to a neighboring case. They were all deeply interested, in’the robbery, and during £ye minutes I patiently listened to their ' When my young friends had exhausted their wit, I turned the conversation in other dbannels. In reply to my question, the painter Informed me that he knew another man who had obliged the company with dances at the Dominguez soiree, and, after a few more jokes about the interest I took In these amateur musicians, he promised to bring the other man to me the next morning. Punctually at eleven the painter was ushered into my office, followed by a nineteen-year-old, fair-haired boy, the i ■ "... • •yjpsta

son of a rich widow, very nervous and awkward, who dropped his hat and stick,a half dozen times in the space Of flVe minutes. There was little of the expert burglar about him. Yes, he, too, had struck up two waltzes and a quadrille, but he had left early when he found it was getting a hit rowdy. There remained, therefore, only one player, and if he was like those I had thud far seen, my theory, based on the two stains, fell to the ground. I requested the four to meet that afternoon in my office, and then asked them whether they could not remember who their fifth colleague was. They began by shaking their heads. And then the painter, decidedly the smartest among them, called out: “Hold hard! There was a tall chap, rather military-looking." “With an aquiline nose and black mustache,” Interrupted M. de G . “He played some pretty waltzes,” piped the fair-haired youth. None of them knew his name, hut they—especially the painter—gave me his exact portrait. I thanked them, and returned to the Rue de Prony. The Domlnguezes, husband and wife, vaguely remembered the tall man with the aquiline nose, but he was a stranger to them. I, therefore, gav# Madame Dominguez the man’s minute description, and begged her to go to, her friends to whom she had given blank Invitations, and see whether she could obtain the desired Information. Unfortunately, it led to no result. -v She had been to 'every house, and no one knew the man wanted. A week passed. I had not made a step forward, and number five remained invisible. I had gone to the fair in the Place du Trone to make an inquiry shout a case in which I was Interestefi. I was lighting my cigarette behind Madam Zaza’s booth, when a whispering conversation between a woman and a man fell upon my ears, and I distinctly heard the words “Rue de Prony” and “Dominguez.” I did not hesitate a second. I ran round to the front, elbowed my way through the crowd, paid my fifty centimes at the desk, and, to the surprise of Madame Zaza, made straight for the little door opposite the entrance. I passed through, and saw a young wom-

an in the fantastic dress of a sibyl. Her companion had disappeared. Despite her disguise, I recognized her, at once, as a girl who had played a part in an affair when the revolver had been used as a supreme argument * “Monsieur Goron!” she exclaimed. “Yes, Lucie, it is I.” “What what do you—” “I want you to tell me what you know about the robbery in the Rue de Prony, and the name of the man who left you a minute ago.” She~ was too agitated to answer. I waited quietly and then she began convulsively: “I know nothfhg about this affair. T swear it! Whatever my life has been, you know I am incapable of doing anything like —like that And the man — the man I talked to, he is—he is—my friend.” “Tell me his name.” She wrung her hands and did not answer. ~ - She reflected a moment and, ing her eyes, exclaimed: ■ “You are right. lam foolish. Things must take their course. His name is CharbonneL” * “I must see him at once,” I insisted. “Where can I find him? And, be careful, don’t try to trick me.” shrugged her shoulders. “Wait here; he will be back in half an hoar.” ——— — s — took a chair. She called out to Madame Zaza that she was engaged with Monsieur Goron, and sat down, staring vacantly at the wall opposite. Then, after a while, a man’s voice from the back called, “Lucie!” She turned toward me. “There he is. See him yourself,'hut remember my words.” I went to the back, and there before me stood a tall man of about thirty-five, answering in every description to my missing For a few seconds we looked at each other.

“M. Charbonneir* I asked. He nodded. * “I am M. Goron, and you will oblige me by coming to my office. I want to speak to yon.**" ", T' He bowed assent. I hailed a passing cab, and without having exchanged a word on the way, we arrived at the Prefecture. The more I watched the man the more I felt impressed with his appearance. The grave eyes, the aquiline nose, the energetic mouth, betokened strength, and will-power. I looked at his broad chest, at his hands, and then all of a sudden I experienced the same kind of shock «1 felt when I discovered the stains on Dominguez’s piano, for on the tip of his right-hand middle finger I saw a small piece of sticking-plaster. No doubt was possible. The burglar sat there, within a yard of me. I purposely kept my eyes fixed upon the bit of plaster, and involuntarily «£« followed my glance. “It is a nasty spot to have cut,” I began. “Indeed It is.” He smiled faintly. “You must find it very awkward when you play the piano, like, for instance, at Monsieur and Madame Domingo’s soiree.” He gave me a quick look and remained silent. ~3F “You were there, were you not?” “I was,” he said, with a slight tremor in his voice. “By whom were you introduced? Who took you there?” “Nobody took me. I went there of my own accord.” “Without an invitation?” "Without an invitation.” He spoke like one in a trance. “What was your object In going to the house?” No answer, but I saw the perspiraation break out on his brow. "Perhaps you will tell me what you did upstairs in the dressing room?” “Mercy!” he groaned, and buried his head in his hands. He had risen from his chair, and the expression of anguish on his face was painful to watch. “M. Goron,” he exclaimed, “I know what is in your mind! But, as I stand before my Maker, I am innocent of any crime. If T went to that house, it was—it was to try to prevent a crime

from being committed —and —now arrest me if you like.” “You say you are innocent I will assume it. But I have the proof you were in the dressing room at the time the safe was broken open. You therefore know the burglar. Who is he?” “I cannot tell you,” he said huskily. “You cannot?” I knew full well that he would not yield to force. Moreover, despite the evidence against him, I felt in no way convinced of his guilt. If he intended to sacrifice himself for some one else, my detaining him would very likely prevent me from laying hands on the culprit I therefore had him once more taken to the adjoining room, and sent for Inspector Despres, one of my smartest assistants. “Despres,” I said, “I am going with the gentleman in the next room to the hotel where he is staying. After a- while I shall return, leaving him behind. But you watch him night and day, and report all his movements. If he attempts to leave Paris, bring him at once to me. Take all the assistance you require.” “I understand, sir,” said Despres. I drove with Charbonnel to the Hotel du Louvre, searched his luggage, looked through his papers, but without finding anything suspicious.— “No, you need not accompany me,” I said: "all I ask you is not to leave Paris, and to come to me when I send for you. Goddby.” Before he had recovered Lorn his surprise I was gone. Two hours later one of my agents brought me the news that Charbonnel had gone to the postofflee in the Rue d’Amsterdam and inquired for letters addressed to “H. C.,” whereupon I immediately communicated with the post office, asking them to detain all letters with these Initials. Charbonnel, I then learned, called ocasionally on Lucie, but saw nobody else. On the fourth day two letters from Smyr-

na to “H. C.” arrived at the Rue d’Amsterdam and were handed tome. Neither of them bore a signature. In the first letter the writer simply announced his safe arrival in Symrna; but the second told its own tale. “I was a fool,” it said, “to have come to this hole. I should have stayed in Paris and chanced it, to watch that scoundrel. Twice he got the better of me; but this time I have him. My only regret is that you may possibly be molested. If so, it’s your own fault You ought to have left me alone. Please send me all cuttings relative to you know wbat.” lat once sent for Charbonnel. He looked haggard. “I have good news for you,” I cried; “your friend writes from Smyrna that he has safely arrived, -and regrets -exceedingly that you got yourself under suspicion. He is very sorry that he left Paris because he no longer can watch a certain scoundrel. Your friend has the kindness to give his address in Smyrna; that simplifies matters. I shall very likely start for Smyrna tonight, but I first wanted to see you, as perhaps you may have something to say to me.” Charbonnel looked at me, dumfounded. “M. Goron, it is useless fighting against you. I vowed to do the right thing by my friend, but you have beaten me. Yes, it is he, Georges Ravel, who committed the burglary. I knew Georges fifteen years ago in Vera Crnz. I had fallen ill, I was penniless and, but for him, would have died like a dog. But he nurßed me, advanced me money, and afterward got me a sitnation as hotel clerk. “Since that moment things have gone well with me, and, thanks to a small legacy, I am now independent. But poor Georges later fell into bad ways. He gambled, drank and for five years I heard nothing of him. When I met him again I hardly recognized him. I fancy he was in prison somewhere in Venezuela, but he never spoke to me about his own affairs. All he told was that he had been cheated by a fellow called Dominguez, and that he meant to be even with him. He soon again disappeared, and I had to return to. France to take possession of my legacy. “A few months ago, to my consternation, he came to my hotel with the news that Dominguez was living in Paris, in the Rue de Prony, and that I would soon hear some surprising things. On the night before the soiree he and, under the influence of drink, departed from his usual reticence. He said he intended to steal into the house and extract* from the safe money, valuables, and the documents he hoped to find there. “All attempts to hold him back proving fruitless, I resolved to go to the soiree, and, if possible, prevent mischief. He had grown a long beard, and it was not likely Dominguez would recognize him if he saw him. I don’t know what possessed me to play, but Just as I rose irom the piano I caught sight of Georges in the hall. I saw him go upstairs, and rushed after him. I clutched his arm, but he knocked me down, and a bowl and some other articles on the safe fell off. In a twinkling he had wrenched open the lock, and, but for the terrific noise down-stairs, they must have heard It “I followed him like one in a dream, saw him put on his overcoat—(for no servant was by—and disappear in the night. And now you know all. No, you know more than I do, for I am still trying to solve the mystery of how you tracked me to the dressing room when no one saw us—” “Never mind that,” I hurriedly replied. “I have other mysteries to solve now. Can you tell me anything more about Dominguez? Did the burglary really take place, and were valcarried away?” ‘(fknow nothing of Dominguez, except 'that Georges said he was a dangerous bandit. As to the burglary, I am sorry to say I was • the unwilling witness of it. And now, M. Gorou, you behave kindly to me. Allow me to give you some advice. Don’t approach Dominguez until you have seen clear into the whole business.” That same night I was on my way to Smyrna. I arrived there late on a Sunday night, and went straight to the small hotel on the Mariana where Georges had given his address. The talkative waiter, a Belgian, informedme that there was a French gentleman staying there, a Dr. Picard, from Lyons. “That’s him coming in now,” he said, pointing to a stout man, with deepset, bile-shet .eyes and an unsteady gait. I immediately recognized him from Charbonnel’s description. The following morning I called on the French consul and told him as< much of the case as I considered necessary. “Of course you know,’’ he remarked, “that there is no extradition treaty between France and Turkey; yet, in virtue of my office, I can take upon myself to arrest a Frenchman,-and, unless he makes too much fuss, secure you the necessary assistance to get him safely on board the steamer for Marseilles. One leaves tomorrow, so you had better look sharp.” Consulate called about midday, when I knew my man was in; and, leaving him in the hall, I walked upstairs and knocked at the door. “Good morning. M. Ravel, I said, jan entering. He rose from the easy xhair in which he was sitting and glared at me. 4*l am M. Goron,” I continued, “and have come to take you back to Paris on the charge of having broken open a safe in M. Dominguez’s house, and abstracted therefrom valuables of various kinds.” • To my surprise, his morose expression disappeared, and/in an almost cheerful tone he replied:

“I am glad to have you cdme. lam ready to go when you like, The sooner I can stand face to face with that hound and unmaak him, the better. I know I shall have to pay a big penalty; but my revenge is cheap, even at the cost of heavy sentence.” “What hound r I asked. 0 “Dominguez! Dominguez!” be shrieked. “Dominguez, the biggest villain unhung! He floored me twlcse, the cunning cur; but I have him here, under, my thumb!” I then called np the official from the Consulate, and in his presence carefully overhauled Ravel’s belongings. At his own request I even searched his pockets, but discovered no trace of anything relative to the robbery. Fifty thousand francs in banks notes and gold he carried in a leather belt. In his hat box were a revolver and a tin of cartridges, of which 11 took possession. “Give yourself no needless my dear Monsieur Goron,” he laughed; “what you are looking for I left in Paris. There were other things in that safe besides trinkets and securities, of which only Dominguez and I know anything, and I did not care to carry them about me. . They are in Paris,” he shrieked at the top of'his voice, “and will be produced when 1 am confronted with that hound. And - then, Monsieur Goron, you will witness something which even you have never seen!” He gave an uncanny chuckle, lit • cigarette and lapsed into silence. A large cabin in the steamer leaving the next day for Marseilles had been reserved for us, and Ravel came on board with a jaunty air like a man bent on a pleasure trip. I had kept everything secret, but through somo indiscretion the passengers knew whw - we were, and curious glances followed us when we set foot on deck. still an hour to wait before lifting anchor. I therefore left Ravel in the cabin In charge of the official who was to accompany me to Marseilles, and Went to ask a few questions of the captain. At that moment a telegraph boy came up shouting my name. I opened the wire. It was from the office. - “Dominguez disappeared.” I tried to convince myself that tho laconic official telegram meant that Dominguez had only absented himself for a while, but something told mo that with his disappearance tho-princi-pal link in that mystery had been severed. Howeyer, I still had the opportunity of talking the matter over with my prisoner, and once under way, I asked him to give me some particulars about his connection with Dominguez. “Walt till we get to Paris,” he cried, and you will hear all you Want to know—and more.” ' “But suppose Dominguez should havo have left Paris?” I inquired. He turned sharply around. “What do you mean?” I handed him the telegram and watched him curiously, for I expected him to fly into a violent rage. Instead of this he handed me the paper back, and quietly said: “Have no fear, he will return!” “You really don’t mean, that. Ravelf* “I do mean it, I tell you.” Half an hour later I saw him in ♦*»» / cabin writing. “I am already preparing my defense,” he said with a sad smile. I left him alone and went into the saloon where a lady was singing. It was a clear night, and the sea wte a» calm as a pool. Then we heard a rush of feet on deck, the singer stopped, and in tho stillness of the night rang the shout: “Man overboard!” I felt as if a cold hand had grasped my throat. -I ran to the cabin. It was empty. We looked everywhere for RaveL He was gone. The steamer at once stopped; two boats were lowered, but returned after half an hour’s fruitless search. And we started again, all the passengers and men having been accounted for but RaveL For a couple of hours I paced tho deck up and down, and then returned to my cabin, where not long ago I had seen my prisoner writing. 6n the table lay a letter in pencil addressed to me: “Dear M. Goron,” it said: ’“fate fs against me. Dominguez, the thief, who robe even hie accomplices. Ip too clever for me—and you. I committed the burglary at Dominguez’s house, not so much to take back what was rightly my share, as to secure a weapon wherewith I could smash him once for all. He has cleared out. He smelt a rat. M. Goron, and 1 do not want to be brought back am a common burglar, instead of an accuser. I have failed in this, like in everything else. Good-by. fc “G. RAVEL." And thus, both the robber and the robbed disappeared. Nothing wag heard of the stolen property. The mystery was never solved. ; Shall I ever be able to efface the point of interrogation behind Dominguez’s name? Slowly, very slowly, the veil is lifted from this mystery. I discovered that Ravel and Dominguez were implicated in a forgery ease in Peru, when Dominguez dexterously succeeded in proving his innocence, while Ravel was sent to prison, but escaped. Three years later the two, always under different names, met again, and although no charge ‘could be brought home to them, they were strongly suspected of being the authors of an important diamond robbery. Dominguez, however, cheated his confederate out of his share of the plunder, and hence the latter*s craving for vengeance. : . * . 1 ’«j To my mind, Ravel’s conclusions that we. would sever see Dominguez again were mistaken. He was evident' - ly unhinged when he committed ntfcide. I feel convinced that Doipinguez will return to Paris, to try to recover the jewelry and documents abstracted from his safe and secreted by Rayed.

I LOOKED AT THE MANS FACE. AND WAS GLAD I WAS GORDON AND NOT DOMINGUEZ