..TiriiHii I inTf uiiiu I II rnwrTMmmmn''*mmnwnr*rirmRrmMTimMmammmmrmm
ITKe Crime of
S’ the Boulevard
CHAPTKR XtL—Continued.
"I have only to remand you to your
cell," salil the magistrate. "We will
hunt for the other man.”
Dantin, In his turn, said in an iron
ical tone, “And you will do well!”
M. tlinory made a sign. The guards
led out their prisoner. Then looking at
the chief, while Hernardet still re
mained standing like a soldier near the
window, the magistrate said:
"Cntil there are new developments.
Dantin wll say nothing. We must look
for the man In the sombrero."
"Necessarily!" said M. Lerlche.
"The needle! The needle! And the
haystack!” thought Hernardet.
The chief, smiling, turned toward
him "That belongs to you, Bertiar
<lct."
I know It well," said the little man,
"but It is not easy, oh! It is not easy
mt all.”
"Bah. You have unearthed more
difficult things than that. Do it up
brown. There is only one Clew—the
hat "
They are not uncommon, those hats,
M. l.crlche. They are not very had
hats. But yet it Is a clew. If we live,
wc shall see."
Ho stood motionless between the
bookcase and the window, like a soldier
carrying arms, while M. tlinory, shak
ing Ids head, said to the chief. "And
this Dantin—what Impression did he
make on you?"
"He is a little crack brained," replied
the chief.
"Certainly. But guilty—you believe
him guilty?”
"Without doubt."
"Would you condemn him?" he
tjttlclily asked as he gazed searehlngly
at the chief. M. Lerlche hesitated.
"Would you condemn him?” M. Gi
moy repeated Insistently.
The chief still hesitated a moment,
glanced toward the impassive Bernar
cict without being able to read Ids face,
•and lie said:
"X do not know."
CHAPTER XTH.
"I do not know," thought Bernardet
ms he returned home. "What one knows
very well Indeed, what one cannot deny.
Oh, that would be impossible! Is that
on the retina of the dead man's eye, re
flected there at the supreme moment of
the agony? Is there found the Image of
•tills Dnntln, Ills face, his features—this
man, In a word, denounced by tills wit
ness which Is worth all other witnesses
in the world? Tills assassinated man
cast a last look upon his murderer as lie
called for aid—ti last cry for help In
the death rattle. And this man says, 'I
do r.r\t know.' But the dead man knew,
anil the kodak knows also. It has no
passion, no anger, without hate, because
it registers what passes: fixes that
which ik floating."
Bernardet was obstinate in 1iIk con
viction. He was pcrfectely rooted In It.
VVhat If lie had not persisted in be
lieving that photography would reveal
The truth? What weighty reason, what
even acceptable one. was there which
obliged Dnntln to remain silent In the
t resence of the examining magistrate
: ad his registrar—in the secret Inter
view of an examination—when In order
tta escape a prison, an accusation, he
hail only to speak two words? But If
Dnntln satd nothing was It because he
hail nothing to say? If he hiul given
no explanation, was tt because he hud
none to give? An Innocent man does
not remain silent. If at the Instant
when M. Glnory pressed the Ivory but
ton the other day the man had been
able to defend himself, would he not
have done it? tine knew the secret rea
son of criminals for keeping silent.
Their best reason Is their guilt.
Only It seemed now certain that Dan
tin, although guilty, had an accomplice
yes. without doubt, the man with the
sombrero, the seller of the portrait.
Where could he now be in hiding?
'"Not easy.” Bernardet repeated the
v rds, "Not easy; no. not easy at all
V run him out of his rabbit hutch."
.’he woman In black, the visitor,
vt --uM be another important clew. On
tills side the situation seemed a simple
one. Or was this woman also an ac
complice, and would she remain silent,
Mddi in the province? Or would the
death of Rovere draw her to Paris,
where she might be recognized and be
come a witness for Justice?
But the days passed. What was called
She mystery of the Boulevard de Cllchy
,-oat'vued to Interest and excite the
public. Violent and perplexing parlla
vnentaiy discussions could not distract
attention from a crime committed In
bread daylight, almost, ns one might
way. hi the street, and which made one
doubt the security of the city, the effi
ciency of the police. The fall of a mln
tstry. predicted each morning and an
ticipated In advance, could not thrust
aside morbid Interest In tills murder.
The death of the ex-counsel was a
grand actuality.
Jacques Dantin thus became a dra
matic personage. The reporters created
legends about him. Some declared him
guilty and brought up In support of
their conviction some anecdotes, some
tales from the clubs, given as proofs;
others asked If the suppositions were
sufficiently well based to accuse a man
In advance of trial, anil these latter
ardently took up Ills defense. Paul Ro
sier had even, with much dexterity and
eloquence, diplomatically written two
articles, one on either side of the ques
tion.
“It is.' he said to himself, "the sure
way of having told the truth on one
side of the other."
Bernardet did not renounce for an
Instant the hope of finding the man who
had sold the picture. It was not the
first time that he had picked the needle
from a cartful of hay. Paris is large,
hut this human sea has Its particular
currents, as the ocean has special tides,
and the police officer knew it well.
Here or there some day he would meet
the man, cast up by the .torrent like a
w«ir.
First of all, the man was probably a
stranger from some foreign land. Wear
ing a hut like a Spaniard, he had not
had time to change the style of dress of j
the country from which he had come !
in search of adventures. Bernardet •
haunted the hotels, searched the regis- I
ters, made conversation with the lodg- j
ere. lie found poor persons who had j
come from foreign countries, but whose
motives for coming to Paris were all ;
right. Bernardet never stopped search- ,
fng a moment. He went everywhere,
curious and prying, and it pleased him,
when he found a leisure evening, to go
to some of the strange wineshops or
alehouses (called corbels) to find sub
jects for observation. These carabets
are very numerous on the outskirts of
i.lontmarte. in the streets and boule
vards at the foot of the Butte, bizarre
Inventions, original and disagreeable
creations where the ingenuity of the
enterprisers sometimes made them
oideous In order to attraet, to cater to
the idle and to hold the loungers from
uraor.g the higher classes: carabets
ixini of the need for novelty which
might stimulate the blase, the demand
for something eccentric almost to mor
bid Irony, a dance Macrebre trod to
the measures of an operetta, pleasantries
of the bunglers adopting the cure alls
of the sawbones and Juggling with their
empty heads while dreaming the
dreams of a Hamlet.
Carabet du Squelette!
The announcement of the droll prom
ises—apparitions, visions, phantoms—
had often made him smile when he had
passed near there to go to the prefec
ture—this wineshop, the front of whlcii
was bordered with black, like a letter
, announcing a death, and which bore,
1 grating as It swung at the end of an
iron roil, a red lantern for a sign,
j His little girls, when he laughingly
1 spoke of the cabaret where the waiters
were dressed like undertakers' assist
' nnts, turned pale, and plump little Mme.
I Hernardet, ordinarily smiling, would
say, with a sigh, "Is It possible that
such sacrilegious things are permitted
In the quarter?”
Hernardet good naturedly replied,
"Ah, my dear, where is the harm?”
"I know what I am talking about,”
his good wife said. "They are the pleas
ure of the unhealthy minded. They
mock at death as they mock at every
thing else. Where will it all end? We
shall soo it'!—
“Or wo shall not see it,” interrupted
her husband laughingly.
He went In there one evening, having
a little time to himself, as he would
have gone Into a theater. He knew
something about this Cftbaret du Hque
lette (meaning the wineshop of the
skeleton). He found the place very
droll.
A small hall which had a few months
before been a common wineshop had
been transformed Into a lugubrious
place. The walls were painted a dead
black anil were hung with a large num
ber of paintings—scenes from masked
balls, gondolas, parades, serenades with
a balcony scene, snm-* of the lovers'
rendezvous of Venice and an Ideal view
of Granada, with couples gazing at
each other and sighing in the gondolas
on the lagoons or in the Andalusian
courts, and in tills strange place with
Its romantic pictures, souvenirs of
Musset or of Carlo Gozzl. the tables
were made In the form of colli ns with
lighted candles standing upon them,
and tile waiters were dressed as un
dertakers' assistants, with shine black
hats trimmed with crepe on their
heads.
"W hat poison will you drink before
you die'.’" asked one ut the creatures
of Bernardet.
Bernardet sat and gazed about him.
A few "high fliers" from the other side
of Paris were there. Here and there
a thief from that quarter sat alone at
n table. Some elegants in white cravats,
who had come here In correct evening
dress, were going later, after the opeia.
to sup with some premiere. The police
officer understood very well whv the
blase came here. They wished to jog
their jaded appetites; they sought to
find some piment. a curry, splco to sea
son the tameness of their dally exist
ence. The coffin shaped tables upon
which they leaned their elbows amused
them. Several of them had asked for a
bttvarolse, as they were on milk diet.
They pointed out to each other the
gas flaming from the Jets fashioned In
the form of a broken shin bone.
"A little patience, my friends," said
a sort of manager, wno was dressed
In deep mourning. "Before long we will
adjourn to the cave of death."
The drinkers In white cravats shout
ed. Bernardet experienced, on the con
trary, what Mine. Bernardet would
have called a "creepy" sensation.
Seasoned as he was to the bloody and
villainous aspect of crime, he felt the
Instinctive shrinking of a healthy and
level headed bourgeois against these
drolleries of the brain diseased upper
class and the pleasantries of the blase
decadents.
At u certain moment and after an
explanation given by the manager the
gas was turned off, and the lovers In
the gondolas, the guitar players, the
singing of Spanish songs, the dancers
infatuated with the Moulin Rouge,
changed suddenly In sinister fashion.
In place of the blonde heads and rosy
cheeks, skulls suddenly appeared. The
smiles became grins which showed the
teeth in their ffcshless gums. The bod
ies. clothed In doublets, in velvets and
satins, a moment ago. were made by
some interior illumination to change
Into hideous skeletons. In his mocking
tones the manager explained and com
mented on the metamorphosis, adding
to the funeral spectacle the pleasantry
of a buffoon.
“See. diseased Parlstuns, what you
will be on Sunday!”
The light went out suddenly; the
skeletons disappeared; the sighing lov
ers in the gondolas on the lagoons of
Venice appeared; the Andalusian
sweethearts agul . gazed into each oth
er's eyes and sang their love songs.
Some of the women laughed, but the
laughs sounded constrained.
"Droll, this city of Paris,” Bernardet
thought. He sat there, leaning luick
against the wall, where verses about
death were printed among the white
tears—ns In those lodges of Free Ma
sons where an outsider Is shut up in
order to give him time to make his
will—when the door opened and Ber
nardet saw a tall young man of stal
wart and resolute tfllen ebfer. A black,
curly beard surrounded his pale lace!
As he entered ut cast a quick glance
around the l all. the air of which was
rather thick with cigar smoke. He
seethed to be about 30 years of age,
and had the air of an artist, a sculptor!
or a painter, together with something
military In his carriage. But what sud
denly struck Bernardet was his hat, a
large, gray, felt hat. with a very wide
brim, like the sombreros which the bull
lighters wear.
Possibly. a few people passing
through Puris might be found wearing
such hats. But they would probably
be rare, and in order to find the seller
of Jacques Dantln's portrait Ber
nardet had only this one clew.
"Oh, such a mean, little, weak clew!
But one must use It, just the same!"
Bernardet had said.
What If this young man with the
strange hat wa> hv chance, the un
known for whom he was searching?
it was not at al! probable. No. when
one thought of It—not at all probable.
But truth is sometimes made up of
improbabilities and Bernardet again
experienced the same shook, the in
stinctive feeling that he laid struck the
trail which he felt when the young man
entered the wine shop.
"That hat!” murmured Bernardet,
sipping his wine and stealing glances
over tin- rim ol’ Ills glass at the young
man. The unknown seemed to play
directly In to the police officer's hand.
After standing by the door a few mo
ments and looking about the place ho
walked over and seated himself at tile j
coffin shaped table at which Bernardet |
was seated, bringing himself face to |
face with the officer. One of the wait
ers in his mourning dress came to take
Ills order, and lighted another eandle,
which he placed where Its rays fell di
rectly on the young man’s face. Thus
Bernardet was able to study him at his
case. The pale face, with Its expres
slon, uneasy ar.d slightly Intense,
struck Bernardet at once. That white
face, with its black beard, with Its
gleaming eyes, was not to be passed
by with a casual glan e. The waiter
placed a glass of brandy before him;
he placed his elbows on the table and
leaned his chin upon his hands. He
was evidently not a habitue of the
place nor a resident of the quarter.
There was something foreign about his
appearance. His glance was steady, as
that of one who searches the horizon,
looks at running water, contemplates
the sea, asking for some “good luck,”
of the unknown.
“It would be strange,” thought Ber
nardet, "If a simple hat and no other
clew should put us upon the track of
the man for whom we are searching."
At once, with the Ingenuity of a
master of dramatic art. the agent be
gan to plot and to put into action what
lawyers, pleading and turning and
twisting a cause this way and that,
call an effect. He waited until the
manager Informed them that they were
about to pass into tho cave of death
and gave them all on Invitation into
the adjoining hall; •’'then, profiting by
the general movement, he approached
the unknown, and, almost shoulder to
shoulder, he walked along beside him,
through a narrow, dark passage to a
little room, where, on a narrow stage,
stood upright an empty coffin.
It was a doleful spectacle which the
Cabaret- du Squelette (tin- wineshop of
the skeleton) offered to its clientele of
Idle loungers and morbid curiosity
seekers attracted to its halls by these
exhibitions. Bernardet knew it all
very well, and he knew by Just what
piny of lights, what common chemical
Illuminations they gave to the lookers
on file sinister illusion o£ the decom
position of a corpse in its narrow h&me.
This phantasmagoria, to which the
people from the boulevard came In or
der to be amused, he had seen many
times in the little theaters In the fairs
at Neuilly. Tho proprietor of the ca
baret had explained it to him. He hail
been curious and very keen about it,
anil so lie followed the crowd into this
little hall to look once more at the
image of a man In the coffin. He knew
well to what purpose he could put it.
The plfl.ee was full. Men and women
were standing about. The black walls
made the narrow place look stilt
smaller. Occasional bizarre pleasan
tries were heard and nervous laughs
rang out. Why Is It that, no matter
how skeptical people may be, the idea,
the proximity, the appearance of death
give them an impression of uneasi
ness, a singular sensation which is
often displayed in nervous laughs or
sepulchral drolleries?
Bernardet had not left the side of
the young man with the gray felt hat.
He could see his face distinctly in tho
light of the little hall, and could study
it at his ease. In the shadows which
lurked about them the young man's
face seemed like a white spot. The of
ficer's sharp eyes never left it for a
moment.
The manager now asked If some one
would try the experiment. This was to
step into the open coffin—-that box, as
he said—"from which your friends,
your neighbors, c(in see you dema
terialize and return to nothingness.”
"Come, my friends," he continued, in
his Ironical tones, “this is a fine thing.
It will permit your best friends to see
you deliquesce. Are there any married
people here'.’ It is only a question of
tasting in advance the pleasures of a
widowhood. Would you like to see
your husband disappear, my sister?
My brother, do you wish to see your
wife decompose? Sacrifice yourselves,
1 beg of you. Come, come up here!
Deatli awaits you!"
They laughed, but here and there a
laugh sounded strident or hysterical.
The laugh did not ring true, but had
the sound of cracked crystal. No one
stirred. This parody of death affected
even these hardened spectators.
“Oh, well, my friends, there is a ca
daver belonging to the establishment
which we can use. It is a pity. You
may readily understand that we do not )
take the dead for companions."
As no one among the. spectators i
would enter the coffin the manager, i
with a gesture, ordered one of tho ,
supernumeraries of the cabaret to en- !
ter. From an open door the figurant |
glided across the stage and entered tho
coffin, standing upright. The manager
wrapped him about with a shroud,
leaving only the pate face of the pre
tended dead man exposed above this
whiteness. The man smiled.
"Ho laughs, messieurs, he laughs
still,” said the manager. “You will
soon see him pay for that laugh. ‘Rome ]
rlt et mourut,’ as Tiassuet said."
Some of the audience shouted ap- j
plause to this quotation from a famous j
author. Bernardet did not listen. Ho
was studying from a corner of his eyo
his neighbor's face. The man gazed
with a sort of fascination at this fan
tastic performance which was taking
place before him. He frowned; he bit i
bis lips; his eyes were almost fero
cious in expression. The figurant in
the coffin continued to laugh.
(Continued Next Week.)
Turn About.
J. Barton King, the famous Phlla- j
delphia cricketer, at a dinner, described
the manners and customs of the Eng- j
llsh as he had observed them during
his cricketing tour.
"The English lodging house,” said
Mr, King, "is not of much account. I
have a friend, an Oxford man, who I
tried lodgings, then took a fiat. In
lodgings, it seems, the landlady gouges
you frightfully.
' My friend told me how he once j
rebuked his landlady. She came to j
him with his spirit ease.
“ 'Whisky all gone, sir,’ she said. :
'Shull I get you another bottle?'
" ‘Yes, I wish you would,' said ha
•it's your turn.'"
Discreet Prophecy.
"Why do you Invariably predict the
coldest winter we have had In years?”
' Well," answered Professor Blather
ton, "if it comes true people necessarily
give me credit for great wisdom. And
if it doesn't come true they are too
thankful to hold any grudge."
Ma says one of the advantages of a low
neck dress Is that it makes back scratch
ing easy.
V
tiie niAL'i w.
The Tragedian (Just off of the road)—
Yes. sir. I was called at the end of every
act.
The Comedian—What did they call rout
TURKS BOYCOTT THE RED FEZ
WHICH IS MADE IN AMERICA
* '"*"**" "" "*"" " '* " 11 ii. .. - — ■ — _
ANTI - AUSTRIAN DEMONSTRATION" AT TJ-TE SULTANAS
AKHMED MOSC2,UK <3/ o' "SHAZg
The red fez, which ii made in America, is absolutely boycotted by the Turks, who use the white fez, which they
themselves manufacture. Note the predominance of the white fez, which is rapidly replacing the red.
Dynamic of Rain Making.
From the London Morning Post.
The desperate expedient of rain mak
ing experiments has lately been put
to the proof at Oamaru, in New Zea
land. The method employed was that
of detonating largo quantities of ex
plosives on the tops of hills. As the
'•rain making” took place at about the
same time that a break up of the
drought was Imminent, and as human
nature Inclines to a belief In the “won
ders” of science, it was widely reported
that In some Instances the explosions
had brought the rain down. Fortunate
ly the whole of the experiments were
carefully recorded and supervised by
a trained meteorologist, who gives an
unprejudiced account of them In Sy
mon’s Meteorological Magazine. Rev.
D. C. Bates, the observer in question,
arives at the conclusion, with which
no one who Impartially surveys the
facts will disagree, that the explosions
of guncotton, dynamite, and gunpow
der, though of considerable force, had
nothing to do with evoking the rain
and that the energy these artificial ex
pedients developed was puny in com
parison with the great natural forces
which were producing a cyclone over
thousands of square miles when the
rain fell. In some general observations
on the experiments Mr. Bates remarks
that the explosions had apparently no
more effect on the vast expanse of air
than would the striking of a match In
a room. The forces arrayed against
artificial changes in the atmosphere are
tremendous, and almost beyond concep
tion. About a thousand units of heat
are needed to transform a pound of
water to vapor. When vapor is re
transformed Into water latent heat Is
liberated to a corresponding amount.
Now an inch of rain corresponds to
about 65,000 tons to the square mile.
The heat developed or released, there
fore, under such conditions of conden
sation from vapor to water would con
sequently demand an equivalent in
work equal to a hundred million horse
power working for half an hour. The
force of the mightiest explosion with
all Its gas put forth Into the air is In
comparison less than a drop In a buck
et. Rain making, in short, like fog
dispersal, demands far greater forces
than any man Is yet able to direct,
produce or control.
-- ♦ . — .
A Self-Made Monkey.
The Short One—You can't make a mon
key of me.
The Tall One—1 can’t without Infringing
on your copyright.
Conundrums,
Why Is a portrait like a member of
congress ?
Because it Is a representative.
What relation is a child to Its own
father when it is not its own father's
son ?
A daughter.
Where is the smallest bridge in the
world ?
On your nose.
What table has no legs to stand on?
The multiplication table.
If a tough beef steak could speak,
what English poet would It mention?
Chaucer (chaw, sir!).
Too Much Experience.
Long and tenderly she gazed into th*
count’s eyes.
“How deftly," she murmured, “you
touched papa for that hundred.”
Then a frown ruffled her beautiful
brow.
“You have deceived me,” she cried,
her eyes flashing fire, "I am not your
first love."
| CAME FROM THE WEST\ !
-♦ _
■4
4 Some of the westerners who have successfully in
4 vailed New York, and their birthplaces are:
4 Samuel I,. Clemens, author, Florida, Mo.
4 John W. Cates, capitalist, Chicago, 111.
4 Whitelaw Reid, journalist and diplomat, Xenia, O.
4 Augustus Thomas, playwright, St. Louis, Mo.
4 Janies R. Keene, stock broker, California.
4 William 11. Hearst, journalist, San Francisco, Cal.
4 William Dean Howells, author, Martin Ferry, O.
4 Henry M. Blossom, author, St. Louis, Mo.
4 James Lane Allen, author, Lexington, Ky.
4 John H. Finley, college president. Grand Ridge, 111.
4 Dr. Simon Flexner, bacteriologist, Louisville, Ky.
4 Daniel Frohman. theatrical manager, Sandusky, O.
4 Norman Hapgood, editor, Chicago, 111.
4 Margaret Iilington, actress, Bloomington, 111.
4 William Vaughn Moody, playwright, Spencer, Ind.
4 Adolph S. Ochs, publisher, Cincinnati, O.
4 Frederick B. Opper, artist, Madison Lake, O.
4 Lloyd Osborne, author, San Francisco, Cal.
4
444444444444444444444444444444444444444441
4
Richard K. Outeault, artist, Lancaster, O. 4
Maud Powell, violinist, Peru, 111. 4.
Lillian Russell, opera singer, Iowa. ^
Ervin Wardman, editor. Salt Lake City, Utah. 4
David Warfleld, actor, San Francisco, Cal. 4
Ray Stannnrd Laker, journalist, Lansing, Mich. 4
Elbert Hubbard, author, Bloomington, 111. 4
Orville Wright, aviator, Dayton, O. 4
Wilbur Wright, aviator, Millville. Ind. 4
Blanche Bates, actress, Portland, Ore. 4
David Belasco, Dramatist, San Francisco, Cal. 4
Amelia Bingham, actress, Hicksville, O. 4
Heorgc McManus, comic artist, St. Louis, Mo. 4
Joint fl. Carlisle, lawyer. Campbell County, Ky, 4
Carrie ('. Catt. woman suffragist, Ripon, Wis. 4
Irving Cobb, journalist, Shawnee County, Kansas. 4.
Amalia 1C. Coudert, painter, Terre Haute, Ind. 4
Paul D. Cravath. lawyer. Berlin Heights, O. 4,
Homer C. Davenport, cartoonist, Silvcrton, Ore. 4
Thomas A. Edison, Inventor, Milan, O. / 4'
THE REASON.
Mrs. B.: “I can't keep track of my neighbors at all any more."
Mr. B.: "Are they moving in and out?”
Mrs. B.: "No, but my friend, Mrs. Gossip, is ill.”
