Terre Haute Evening Gazette, Volume 6, Number 155, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 December 1875 — Page 6
The Sabbath Bells.
The old man sits in his easy chair, And his ear has cougbt the ringing Of many a church bell, far arid near
Their own aweet music sinking. And bis head sinks low on his aged breast,
While his thoughts far back are reaching, To the Sabbath morns of his boyhood days,
And a mother's sacred teaching. A few years later, and lo! the bells A merrier strain were pealing, And heavenward bore the marriage vows
Which his manhood's joys were seal
in8-
But the old man's eyes were dimming now, As memory holds before him The sad, sad picture of later years,
When the tides of grief rolled o'er him. When tbr halls wore tolling for loved ones gone,
For the wife, for the sons and daughters, Who, ore by one, from his home went out, &.nd down into death's dark waters it the aged heart has still one joy
JV"bich his old life daily blesses, id bis eyes grow bright and his pulses warm Neath a granachild's sweet caresses !ut the eld man wakes from his reverios, And his d.-ar old lace is smiling, While the child with her serious eyesreads (in,
The Sabbath hours beguiling. Ah, bells, occe more ye will ring for him,
When the heavenly hand shall sever The cord of life, and his freed soul flies To dwell with its own forever.
TELE
Parisian Detective
OB,
A DESPERATE DEED.
ERSKINE BOYD,
AtFXftpB OF "THE STOLEN CHILD," "DRIVEN FBOM HOME," &C., &C.
CHAPTER XVII.
1TELLIB, THE ENGLISH ROSE.
Mian Nellie Nicholson was a Frenchwoman, but her father had been an English jockey, well known upon the courses of Ascot and Epsom.
Brought over by.Iris, master .to Paris, hetook, after riding- his first race at Loni,--champs, a very enviable position upon that slippery and frowsy foothold, the French Turf.
For the livst year, "Bandy Nicholson."' as he was familiarly called by his friend*' took high honors—so high that, the peculiar character of his letTS, h" 1 ed into the affections of a certain maid, in whom the young lord, hi-. **..* ployer, took a great interest. They w*? married.
A few months afterwards, Bandy to drink: and a few months after to drink, he took lo his bed.
One month after taking* to his te.1 took, to his coHin, and was duly takm to
parish eeriiitjy.:y, which his masttv, in refill of Ms past services, li&d graciously scored for him. ,nd Nalli«? 'oor tvillrl! Three months after the lh of li' father her mother al-"•-lis-:i:vd .vitlr a Brazilian gentleman, who d. vm*Ii cattle and cash in Kio
"nrtnna'te little Nellie! An English thrown into the mire of the Paris fe, to be admired for the moment, and trampled under foot, when its brief ^.ration was over. But Nellie Nicholson had talent. talent quickly seen by the quickeyes of aParisian manager, Oscar Rigaud,proprietor of
the Beaumarchais
Theatre.
This enterprising manager, quickly offered the pretty girl an engagement, which—for it was a question oi bread or no bread—was as quickly accepted. It was a hard life, and the girl's heart hardened with it.
She had been five years upon the boards of this low Paris theatre when, during a chance visit, her peculiar and striking beauty attracted the notice of the young T) ft 1* 1S 01"
Through the friend who had taken him behind the scenes" he made her acquaintance, and a few weeks afterwards made her a proposal ot marriage.
This proposal, after a secret inquiry m--v his ways and means, was firmly rejectby the fair lady. That is to say, that ilst holding him to his bond, she await-
Ihe time until he acquired that position Ich he asserted he was sure to attain. the meantime, playing with the madof his love, she permitted him to ruin ^self in her behalf. beautiful serpent—the tightness of .aose coils were scarcely felt by the fascinated victim, because the pressure was BO soft and so gradual,
Can any excuse be found for Nellie NiAolson? Christian charity will surely find one namely, the root of her evil education, struck deeply down into the Paris mud and what, with other and better culture, might and would have produced a better result, blossomed into a Dead Sea apple all brightness and beauty without all dust and ashes within.
But to return to the conversation interrupted by the entrance of the maid servant.
t.
Her presence gave the young barrister time to recover himself. He looked at the pretty little creature on the sofa for whom he had sacrificed so much, and his anger faded away like a summer storm.
The moment the maid had left the room, he drew his chair closer to her, and took one of her tiny hands in his. "Gome—come!" he said, tenderly "why have you been so hard upon me this evening If I've been in the wrong, you've punished me sufficiently. Let's shake hands, and be friends."
But she pushed his hand away, saying, .in. a hard, dry tone, that she was too ill and too worried "to talk nonsense!" 111!"' "said Noel anxiously. Shall I td for the doctor?"
What for! There's nothing the mat-
1
with me but botheration. My life is ^wng but a prolonged yawn. You* don't le me to be seen with yon anywhere,and you won't take me anywhere. A nice rt of a husband you'll make! I like life, tl^Jbter, gaiety while you are as grave ausan uJV^ert&ker.with a "black scarf hanging down to his heels, and a board with black feathers on his head."
You are not very complimentary, Nellie. If you only knew how much I suffoj*.
Go m! That's just like you men—
nobody seems to suffer but yourselves "Why a: iI not to be seen about with youf Surely you're not ashamed of the person you have asked to be your wife?"
I tell you there are family reasons—" Oh, hang your family reasons! If you loved me half as much as you say you do, you'd think no more of your fine family than I do of the puff of a cigarette."
It is a question of money." Well, there certainly is something in that," pouted the little beauty. Nobody can get on without money, and a lot of it, too at any rate I can't?'
I'm afraid that's very true, Nellie," said the barrister, with a sigh. "And, talking of money reminds me that I've my dressmaker's bill to pay, and you promised—"
Before she could conclude the sentence, Noel had placed on the table a portion of the bank-notes given him by old Corkscrew the very rustling of which banished every vestige of a frown from Nellie's lovely face, and her pouting lips brightened into the sunniest of smiles. "You are the best of dears," she said, and I'm wrong to teaze you. My bills will come to three hundred pounds, if all are settled." "And I have only brought you four hundred. You must be satisfied with that. I am about to leave Paris for a few days."
Leave Paris!" For a few days only, and the result of that short, compulsory absence may be— nay, will be, our happiness for life."
Is it a secret? Oh, do tell me what it is I can't." said the girl, clasping her hands, and looking at him in the most coaxing manner imaginable.
I cannot in fact, I dare not but by-and-by you shall know all. In the meantime, listen to me attentively. Whatever may happen, and under no pretext of any sort, must you attempt to see me at my house, as you have already tried to do. Don't even write. If you disobey me in this, you may do me an irreparable injury if you are ill, or anything unforseen occurs, send round that old thief—what's his name?"
Ducroe, the money-lender?" Yes. I must see him to-morrow he's got some bills of mine. And now good night, Pussy."
Good night and mind this must be the last of your mysteries and awful secrets for I tell you very plainly I don't intend to put up with them."
This will be the last, I swear it, Pussy —the very, very last." Noel," recommenced the young lady, this time very seriously, as she followed him to the door, .1 don't feel comfortable about you. You're hiding something from me. I know it—nay, I'm sure of it. For the last few days there has been something strange about you something I can't describe something 'queerish' something I don't like."
He made no answer, but kissing her hand, pushed her'gently back, closed the door behind him, and a few moments after was in the street.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE SHADOW OF DEATH.
Walking rapidly homewards, the youngbarrister entered by the private door known only to himself, and was soon installed in his study before his absence could have excited notice.
But, five minutes had hardly elapsed before there came an anxious rapping at IiLdoor. '•Sir—sir, oh,do speak to me!"
He opened the door impatiently. "Well, what's the ma.ier? I tho!i.:
-hl
this was my study, and it was understood I wasn't to be disturbed." Oh, sir," gasped the servant, wiping her eyes with her apron, don't be an^ry with me but missus is so awful bad! I've rapped at your door three times. 1 ou must have been asleep. Oh, sir, do come! I'm afraid she's dying."
The barrister followed the frightened woman into Madame Gerdy's room. He could hardly restrain an exclamation of fear as he looked at her, she was so terriblv changed.
Her face was livi' in its ashen palor, and her eyes, which gleamed with a dull, lurid light, seemed filled with a fine sort of red powder, or dust.
Hw long hair, that had escaped from the net she wore, fell like a dark vail down her face and neck, contributing, if possible, to the wiklness of her appearance.
From time to time a groan or sob escaped her lips, mingled with unintelligible
Sometimes a spasm more terrible than those that had preceded it wrung from her a cry of pain.
She did not recognize Noel as he entered —in fact, was unconscious of the presence of any one in the Toom. "Isn't she awful bad?" whispered the poor servant and wasn't I right to ask you to come and judge for yourself "Yes. But who would have thought that this fever would have made such progress? Put on your bonnet and run for your life to Doctor Harvey, and tell him to come at once."
Doctor Harvey was the young barrister's most intimate friend, and Noel knew that the summons would be obeyed at once.
And he was right, for ten minutes had
hardly
elapsed before the doctor was in
the room. In less time than it takes to write, he had taken the lamp from the table, and, after examining the sick woman, came back to his friend. "What's happened to her?" he said, abruptly. Some great shock, eh? Now, mind, I must know the truth, or I can do
The truth?" stammered the barrister. Yes the truth and nothing but the truth. This is a peculiar case—not at all an ordinary one. She's suffering from encephalitis."
Encephalitis? what's that?" Inflammation of the brain." And the cause?" The doctor looked grave and shrugged his shoulders.
The usual cause is the shock of some great sorrow a shock, at any rate, that suddenly strikes the nervous system. Tell me, Noel, tell me as your oldest friend, has Madame Gerdy suffered such a shock?"
The barrister paused for some moments before he replied, then, pressing his friend's hand, he said "Harvey, such a blow as that you hint at has, indeed, iallen upon this unhappy woman." "Unhappy woman! Noel!—Noel! Is it thus you speak of your mother?"
The barrister raised his hands with a gesture of sorrowful entreaty, and Ms head sankon hia breast.
Madame Gerdy is not my mother' Are you mad?* Alas! no though the wrong I have suffered might have made me so. Madame Gerdy has robbed me—falsely^ iobbed me of my inheritance to enrich her own son robbsd me alike of fortune and of nHin'.*! It is now three weeks since I discovered the double fraud
end the effect of that discovery you see." Another pause and then Noel asked, in a low voice,and without meeting the eyes of his friend, Is the malady dangerous?"
So dangerous," was the solemn reply, "that unless the attack be stayed within twenty-four hours, your mother—I would say, Madame Gerdy—is a corpse!"
CHAPTER XIX.
DENOUNCING THE MURDERBB.
Eleven o'clock was striking from a neighboring church steeple, when Old Corkscrew left his young friend's house. "What a mine I've sprung!" he thought, as he walked joyously along the pavement, in a seventh h-avenof delight. I've bowled out my professional friends—I've forestalled them all! Ha! ha! I wasn't far out, though, about there being a child mixed up in the business but I never suspected a substitution. And to think of his mother—a woman I would have canonized as saint—that she could have lent herself to such a frcheme! I was going to propose mtrriag*o to her, too. Well, well I .suppose I'm :n old fool, after all."
At this lidt thought Old Corkscrew shuddered. He saw himself married and settled then discovering, all at once, the past history of his wife. lie saw himself mixed up in a scandallous lawsuit, with the scorn and ridicule of society falling like an avalanche on his head.
He leaned against a lamp-post, almost overwhelmed at the vision he had conjured up.
By this time the Daddy had arrived at the house of the examining magistrate, Monsieur Daburon, who was just upon going to bed having left, however, orders with his servant to admit the old man, no matter at what hour he called.
At the sight of his self-constituted detective, the magistrate hastily put on his dressing gown, and- advanced to meet him. "Something has happened," he said, eagerly, "or you wouldn't be here at this hour! Are you on the trail? Have you got a clue?" "Better than that!" said Old Corkscrew, smiling and looking at the anxious face before him with an aggravating calmness. "Out with it then and don't stand grinning there like an old baboon."
Daddy Tabaret struck the clenched fist of his rig-lit hand into the palm of his left. "I've got my man! I've found out the murderer of the Widow Lerouge!" "What already! It seems impossible!" "I've the honor of repeating to you, sir," continued Daddy, "that I have discovered the man who commited the crime at La Jonchere."
Then, with a precision and clearness of which the magistrate would have hardly believed him capable, he told the story he had gleaned from the young lawyer that evening. 'And those letters I've told you about, I've seen. In fact, I don't mind telling yon, I've bagged one of 'em—only to verify the handwriting, mind you—only to verify the handwriting!"
And as he spoke, he placed the letter on M.Daburon's knee. "Yes," murmured the magistrate "I think we've got our man at last! The evidence against him seems as clear as the day. Crime breeds crime, and the guilt of the father has made an assassin of the
"I've hidden the names as yet, sir," continued Daddy Tabaret, "because I wanted !o hear your opinion first." "Oh, you can mention them to me without the least danger," interrupted the magistrate- "In whatever position in life the parties happen to be—however high they may be placed—I have never hesitated in the course I have to pursue." "I know that, sir—I know that! But in to be father, legitimate son for his illegitimate, is the Count Lionel de Valcourt, and the murderer of the Widow Lerouge is the \iscount Albert de Valcourt."
"I Know tnai, sir—JL KHOW UJ.U I the present instance they happen very highly placed indeed. 'J'iio who lias sacrificed his legitimate soi
Old Corkscrew, accustomed in theatrical language, to stage effects, had dealt out these last words with exasperating slowness—calculating that they would produce an immense impression. The effect surpassed his wildest expectation.
M. Daburon seemed struck as with a thunderbolt. He shuddered at first, then stood still, a statue of astonisment and horror.
Mechanically he repeated from time to time, as soon as his white lips could frame the words, "Albert de Valcourt?—Albert de Valcourt?" *Yes," reiterated the-Daddy "the noble Viscount—it's him, and no mistake."
Becoming suddenly aware of the extraordinary change in tne face of the magistrate, he approached.him in alarm. "You are ill!—-your face is so white! What's..th0'mftit0r?'.' "NotWrig^othing. I'm quite well," answeredi M. Daburon. "It was only the surprisie^theshock. I happen to know mention and—and—well, the truth ia, I should like to be alone for a, short time. Go into the next room there's a good fire there, and lots of books, police reports, and all that sort of literaturejust the thing to amuse you and, so saying, he pushed his old friend out of the room and, directly he was gone, sunk into a chair, and, covering his face with his hands, gave way to an uncontrollable fit of sobbing.
1
CHAPTER XX.
US HE 0 S
The name of De Valcourt, mentioned unexpectedly to Monsieur Daburon by Old Corkscrew, awakened the most painful memories in his heart. To borrow a simile from a great Roman poet, it was like walking over lava, beneath which the ashes were still burning for the young magistrate had loved, but loved in vain, a young and beautiful girl, of noble family, and it was this very Viscount Albert de Valcourt who had been his rival.
He remembered the evening when he had proposed to her, and "all the things that had been."
And, while he sits dreaming, we will seize the opportunity of describing our heroine.
Clare de Courcy had just completed her seventeenth year when Monsieur Daburon first saw her.
A tall, graceful, gentle girl, with a soft, innocent expression of countenance fair, silky hair, banded back a la, Gf-recque from abroad low brow, contrasting exquisitely with deep blue eyes, fringed by dark lashes*
She was still very slight in figure, and walked with a certain swaying motion, impossible to describe but very charming in itself, reminding the beholder of long reeds in the river, or the waving corn in the summer fields. She was an orphan, and had been adopted by an eccentric old aunt, who alternately scold•d and spoilt her.
v, Z%!
*si%
•f.), __
I f:
W--
But to^ return to Monsieur Daburon, ana the evening that he remembered so bitterly and so well.
It was in the month of August. The heat at mid-day had been overwhelming. Towards the night a breeze had sprung up, and the tress in the garden made a pleasant rustling but there was a sort of shuddering in the air that foretold a storm.
They were both seated at the bottom of the garden in an arbor filled with exotic plants and between the broad leaves and branches they could discern, from time to time, the white muslin dress of Clare's aunt, who was taking a "constitutional" after her dinner.
They had been sitting there a long time without speaking, touched by the beauty of the quiet night, their senses oppressed with the faint odors of the flowers that clustered round the fountain, when Mon sieur Daburon suddenly took the young girl's hand in his. It was the first time he had ever done so, and the touch of the soft, white skin, sent the blood rushing to his head. "Miss de Courcy!" he whispered "Clare!"
She started, and looked at him with her beautiful eyes, opened wide in surprise. "Pardon me," ho continued "oh, pardon me! I asked your aunt first, before I had the courage to ask you. One word from your lips will decide my future happiness or misery. Clare, dear Clare! don't repulse me—I love you!"
Whilst he spoke, Miss de Courcy looked at him as if she doubted her senses. But at the words "I love you!" uttered with a concentrated passion, she withdrew her hand with a stifled cry. "You—you? But that can't be possible?"
Had his life depended on it, M. Daburon could not have uttered a word. The presentiment of a great misfortune tightened the valves of his heart as though they were pressed in a vice.
Clare burst into tears and hid her face in her hands. "Oh, what an unhappy girl I am!" she moaned—"what an unhappy girl!" "Unhappy!" cried the young magistrate "and I the cause! Clare, this is unkind, for I'd rather die than bring sorrow to one I love so dearly. What have I done? Tell me don't tnrn your head away. You'll.break my heart if you keep me longer in suspense!"
He sunk on his knees in the dust and gravel of the arbor, and tried to clasp her hands in his but she pushed him back with a gentleness that was almost tender. "Let me cry for a little while," she whispered. "It will do me good. Women are such foolish things, crying gives them relief! You'll hate me perhaps for what I am going to say—despise me, perhaps but I declare to you most solemnly, that I never for one moment suspected even, that I had inspired you with the feelings you have just expressed."
Monsieur Daburon remained on his knees, with his head bent on his breast, like a criminal expecting the final blow. "Yes," continued Clare, speaking in a tone of bitter self-reproach, "what a detestable and heartless coquette you must think me! I understand it all now. How could a man like you, unless possessed by a deep love, have behaved to me as you have done, so delicate, so kind, so tender, and so true? I was so selfish, I thought only of myself, and how pleasant it was to have such a sincere friend because, you see, I have never thought of you in any other light but as that of the best and dearest of fathers."
This last, word revealed to the unfortunate magistrate, the whole extent ol the delusion under which he had been laboring.
He rose slowly to his feet, with a look of pained surprise. "Your father?" "Yes," she repeated, "I loved you as a father—as a brother in fact, you represented to me all the family I have lost— father, mother, brothers and sisters."
Monsieur Daburon could hardly repress a sob. He felt as though his heart was breaking. "Ah, why," continued Clare, with growing excitement, "was the confidence I had in you not a greater one still? I then might have spared you this scene which is so painful to us both—I then would have told you that my heart is no longer in my own keeping, and that I have given my sole happiness on this earth to another."
To be soaring up to the skies, and to be suddenly dashed to the earth! Poor Monsieur Daburon, we shall not attempt to describe his feelings! "You love another!" he said, after a long silence "and your aunt is unaware of it. He cannot. be a man worthy of your love Clare,. or why isn't he invited here?" "There are ^obstacles!" murmured the young girl, h^eyes, ^filling with tears,-j-'finsurmountabie^bptacles! His family is rich—immen^ely^nchrjand, as you know, I am poor, very hard man, and won't he'ap'OtMfrjniatch." "His fathe^K^^.jthe^magistrjite, with a scorn he*^9flp(i^f«»ce to hide. .*His. father!—hii.|^S|l^rf And he thought^ Vicm in
cora|ifin^ft:?t'o
yon yet he nest
fates, knoffit^pimffi you love him! t-Ah, woiild I w^titfli^ i)lacp,,.with the whple world against me! What sacrifice can a man make for the woman he loves? Even the greatest is a joy to him! To suffer— to strive—even to wait almost despairing, yet to hope with a constant, devotion— that's what I call love!" "And that's just how I love!" said Miss de Courcy, simply.
This answer crushed the magistrate. He felt that his last chance was gone. Yet he experienced a sort- of voluptuous agony in further torturing himself—by proving-, as it were, his misery, by the intensity of his suffering. "But, pardon me," he persisted "how did you make his acquaintance—have opportunities of speaking with him without the knowledge of your aunt?" "I will hide nothing from you," she said, in a quiet voice, and with all the dignity that belongs to purity, "because I think that you have aright to question me. I have known him for along time. I first met him at my cousin's house, the Countess de Beaumont's, and I have since frequently met him at various balls and parties." "He must belong to a very illustrious race," remarked the magistrate, with a sneer, "to hesitate at an alliance with such an old country family as yours!" "You need not question me I will tell you all you wish to know, without any cross-examination," she answered, with a faint smile. "I will even tell you his name—Count Albert de Valcourt."
The old aunt, having by this time taken her "constitutional," approached the arbor. "Won't you come in Monsieur Daburon?" she cried, in her sharp voice, that seemed ,to pierce the ear like some potent acid. "Won't you come in? The chessboard is prepared, and I've a movej.to make that will puzzle even your logical head."
Startled, the magistrate row, and an
SUIT
swered, (Stammering, "I'm at your service, Miss de Courcy, in a moment." Clare held him back by the arm. "I've not asked you to keep my secret," she said.
He seized her hands with a pained ex pression of face at the doubt her words implied. "I know I can trust you," she said "but I know, also, that from this day forward my peace of mind, and my happiness at home, is at an end!"
Monsieur Daburon looked at her in surprise. "It's very plain," she continued, "that what I—a young girl without any experience of the world—failed to see, my old aunt saw at a glance! In continuing to encourage your visits, she tacitly consented to your proposals for my hand."
Briefly he told her that such had been the case delicately avoiding the pecuniary part of the case, which had so strongly influenced the old lady. "I knew it! I guessed it all!" sighed Clare. "What will my aunt say when she knows I have refused you?" "You must know very little of my character," interrupted the magistrate. "I will say nothing to your aunt. I will only go away, and—and—not see you again that will explain everything! Perhaps she will think that—that—I've changed my. mind." He bent his face upon his hands, and moaned, "Oh, Clare! the burden you've laid upon me is harder than I can bear!" "How kind—how generous you are!" sobbed the girl, moved by his simple grief. "Yes, I'll go away!" proceeded the unhappy lover "and before the week is out, you will have forgotten the man whose life you have blighted!"
He spoke so huskily, and in such trembling tones, that his voice was hardly distinct. "But, whatever happens," he continued, "remember that in this world there exists a man who would lay down his life for you! If ever you want a friend, whose self-devotion is beyond a doubt, come to me! Good-bye!—good-bye!"
His eyes were full of tears. Instinctively she raised her face to his. He touched her forehead with his cold lips, and, before she could speak, was gone.
Such were the events that recalled the name of de Valcourt so bitterly to the magistrate's memory. He thought them buried in the sands of time and here they were, laid bare again, like words written with sympathetic ink, that start to life the moment the paper is placed near the fire.
For some minutes, thanks to the peculiarity of his position, he assisted, as it wrere, at a representation of his own life, both as actor and spectator.
His first thought, it must be owned, was one of hate, followed by a detestable feeling of satisfaction.
Chance had placed the man whom Clare had chosen above himself, in his power. No longer the haughty aristocrat, illustrious by his fortune and long descent, lrat a nobody—the son of a woman of light reputation, who, to keep his stolen position, had committed a cowardly murder.
Here was a revenge, sweet and deep, which he could*cover under the shield of the law, and strike his enemy with the sword of justice. •But it 'was only a flash of lightning. The conscience of the honest man revolted, and once more asserted its all-powerful voice.
A revulsion of feeling followed, and a project of mad generosity usurped his former feelings. "'Suppose I save him and,for Clare's sake, leave him at least life and honor? But how—how can it be managed? In order to succeed, I should have to suppress the discoveries of Old Corkscrew, and impose upon him the complicity of silence and, after that follow up a false track at the heels of that donkey Gevrol, who is now pursuing a phantom murderer. No* it can't be done—it can't be' done!"
And again the magistrate bent his head upon his hands. The clock on his chim ney-piece striking three, aroused him from his reverie. "jl've forgotten Daddy Tabaret, poor old fellow he must be sleeping like a top by this time. I:ll go and rouse him up. By feeling his pul3e, I may find away of getting clear of all my scruples."
M. Daburon was mistaken. His visitor was not asleep, but jumped up, on his en trance with a nimble and characteristic movement. "Well," he cried. "I suppose you've been making out a warrant for the arrest of the Viscount Albert de Valcourt?,'
The magistrate Started, like a wounded man might start who sees the surgeon place his instrument'case by the bedside. The time for action had arrived. "Gently—gently, my young old friend don't let us do things in a hurry!" "But he's guiltiy!—guilty, my dear sir! If he hasn't committed the crime, who h..s? Who but he r-buld have had the slighies i:iterest in the Widow Lerouge? In her evi•dence—her papers—her letters?" "Yes but4rr^"'
Dktfdy Tabaret stared at the magistrate in mute surprise but the latter so-mod lost in reflection. Suddenly he ro is himself, as with an effort, and as.k:' 1 abruptly, "What would you do if you were in my place?" "Do!" cried the old man. "Can you ask me such a question? Why I'd be down upon him like a thousand of bricks! like a thunderbolt, and bring him here before he had time to say Jack Robinson! I wouldnM waste time in asking him captious questions but I'd crush him at orice with my certainty of his guilt. I wouldn't allow him to open his mouth until I had finished and this is how I'd begin."
And tfftn the keen old lynx told the magistrate how he would proceed in his examination of the prisoner and so far convinced his listener, that he gave way to his reasoning, and promised that on the morrow a warrant should be issued for the arrest of the Viscount Albert de Valcourt.
CHAPTER XXL
THB VI8C0CNT AND HIS FATHER.
On the same day as the discovery of the crime at the villag*e of La Jonchere nay, at the very hour when Old Corkscrew was proving his case so clearly in the cottage of the murdered woman, Viscount Albert de Valcourt entered hi? carriage, to meet his father at the railway-station.
The viscount was very pale every feature drawn as by sleepless days, and anxious nights.
All the servants had remarked the change in the 'young master.' "He ain't hisself," said the cook. "He off his feed, and when a man's off his feed, you may be sure there's something up."
The housemaid suggested it was love. The valet said it was bifliards. The domestic spies were still lost coniecture, when the carriage containing the ouTVr"
*7 MB vtrnr inn
A*l*
Old flies and rasps re-cut and warranted equal to new. We pay one way on all or dfcrs from the country by express.
TKRRE HAUTE
Cement Pipe & Stone Co.
MANUFACTURERS OF
Artificial Stone.
and power-pressed hydraulic
CeiEent I)rain and Sewer Pipe. Jso house Irimmiugs cf different architectural designs, including window caps, sills, key stones, water tables, etc. Sidewalks laid in pieces or blocteB. Filterers lor cisterns, stepping blocks, coj ing, posts etc. Office on Ohio street, near Sixth,
I». McArtliur,
TAILOR. ANU CUTTER,
Fifth M., bet. Uifrry and Mulberry Buy your cloth and have your suits cut and made in the finest style at a saving oi 'A5 percent, by patronizing McArtliur.
BODKiGWIBE,
House,Sign ana Ornamental
A I N E
Little Red Front, corner of Eighth acd Main streets, Terre Haute, ind.
BENJAMIN BOO£tt»,
ARCHITE OT.
Plans and Specifications on both pnblio and private buildings furnished in the best style, on short notice.
Office No. 7 Beach's Block.
Dr. Leon J. Willien,
OFFICE AND RESIDENCE,
Eagle street, bet. Sixth and Seventh, Fourth house from Seventh.
OHM & AUFDERHALLE
8. cor. Tine and Second Me.,
Dealers in all kinds of
E A S I
FRESH AND CURED.
Call and see them.
EAST END SALOON. The new drinKing oouso of
DATI0 PMILMPS Is replete with all modern cor,"7',nienoes. The best of treatment, the best liquors and a pleasant hospitality can always be had at this place. NORTHEAST COR. NIJNTH AND MAIN
£SSBB ROBBBTSON. A.J.WATSON
ROBERTSON & WATSON
Contractors for Job iirick Work Plastering, Cistern Building and Calcimfning.
All work guaranteed. Address, Robertson & Watson, P. O. Box 1,231, Terre Haute, lud.
NEW STOYE STORE. STOYES 0F~ALL STYLES.
Parlor, Cook
j***
—AND-
OFFICE STOVES
A Large Assortment and Low Prices, at
r' 3-. HEIM'S North Fourth St., (look's bntlding
BARBER SHOP.
CALEB J. TEOBPE, Successor to Roderns Brothers, on Fourth street, between Main and Ohio. He soli* its a share of the public patronage.
JOH3T GRIERSOJI,
PAINTER.
HOUSE AND SIttN PAINTINH, Graining, Glazing, and all branches of a painter's business will be attended to wltb promptness and dispatch. Ninth street uear Chestnut.
PETER KIZEBdCO.
Make a Speolaity of
HORSESHOEING!
They will guarantee to cure by Bhoelng, corns, bruised heels, quarter cracks, hooibound, contraction of the heel,over-reach* ed, forging and Interfering. All other branches of genuine
BLACKSMITHITO
street.
attended to. South of Walnut
mi,a
JOSEPH RICHARDSON, H. D.
Office on Ohio St., bet. Third and Fcnrtb
ROBERT TAN VALZAE, DENTIST,
OFFICE 1.Y OPEBA HOUSE,
TJSRRE HAUTE, INDIANA.
LOUIS DREUSICKE,
(Successor to Gelger & Dreuslcke)
Locksmith, Bell-Hanger and SteneU Cutter.
N. B. Speolal attention paid to putting up Speaking Tubes. The same sold at wholesale and retail to tinners.
Keys wholesale and retail. Repairing promptly, attended to.
O.W. BALLEW,
W I S
Office, 119 Main
Street
OVcM Race's vr «*nnttv
?r v®&*f$$k
I 1-
J. P. DKVINK. J. P. FRKKI^AKD. TERRE HAUTE
FILK WOBE8. Dtvine & Freeland, manufacturers and dealers in all kinds of band cut Hies, rasps and files of all kinds- South-West norner Fifth and Mulberry streets. Terre Haute, Indiana.
if
CFNTS
•'E 5
GOODS.
VEN ...
or This Week
3s of handsome 19 new dark shades) at th f2.50." pieces of magnificent inch, -Lyons Faille I evening tints, at •th $2.50. pieces of extr», rain Silk, now dark )rth $2.25 to ?2,50. :es of regular make double-faced Blaok s, worth 00 cents, an, same make, in [unlUie9, at 50 oontf,
eces of Extra Dla* fkish Brilllantines, warranted, at 65 cts,
Cashmere*, which Color, quality and
.anything in theae their interest to ex pecial bargains, pectfully,
KES&CO., », & 37 intoii Street,
FAPOLIS.
^Trimmings just re-
SALOON
y, Proprietor.
Mtween Obio and ilnut.
of Cigars and Tobaceo, ides, Liquors and Beer
from 9 to 12 A. M.
3 1 A
rUAL BALL!
^THE
BNIAN
at Society,
'GIVEN ON
fre'ng, Dec. 15. 1T-L,v.
"JS1
..'
ITTEE—Patrick Sbauad, Dennis Barrett, M. lames Walsh. !03f.—J. P. Brennaa, atriok Hlckey, Martin 3*80111 van. S-Danlel Lynch, T. A, rail, C. S. Crouln, Patowney and Jamas Hoband has been engsgslo.
A
lico Ball!
IT—
SO HALL,
ie, December 20.
.he Family of the late
EL RINK.
PRIZES OF
AND |20
PEERED.
ISSIOX. lady .1.00
I
CLOSETS,A TU'IHTLtute far thecommon privy are better can be nsed in ary nvallds. Send for cirATCH A HBEEZE, ta. SO
8tate St., Chicago.
iclde. the Qasette. •OCKVZIXE, Dec. 12. a whose name, from is possession, is sup-
Williams, of Iona, id killed himself ln( 5 to .E-1. Marshall* rest of this place. He |tb# same man who rom the Crawfordson bis person three in money. It is not vbijttber the deed was ly- or by accident" as quite dead.
to!
Of? '..i
TERRE HAUTE, INDIANA.
ROCKET.
Journal is willing to lowiDg is true: gent for the United 1 Insurance Co,, that Aided by Mr. Mossier is just paid another Laara Cox, who J»ad demolished by some
short duration is werejbeglnnlng to be ber of our jail birds, the Chicago Post discounting our list,
has 220 prisoners un-
t. Claries. prietors of the St. 3taub, Fox A Staub, price for tranciea' per day. This is a it direction, and we vill --bring increased