Synopsis. “THE MINISTER OF POLICE,” by Henry Mountjoy, is a romance of Paris fluring the Louis XV reign, a. period when Europe was in a condition of foment and Unrest; when Voltaire was breaking to Pieces the shackles of religion; when Rousseau at the Cafe de Regenance was preaching the right to think; and when a thousand men, some in the gutter, some near the throne, were preparing the great explosion of the revolution. Madame Linden, an Austrian laoy, after completing a simple mission to the French country, lingers on in Paris, en joying the gay life there. De Sartines, tnc minister of police, thinks she has some other motive than pleasure in delaying her departure and surrounds her wltn spies to discover. If possible, w'hether she Is dabbling in state plots. .. De Lussac is a noble of exceptional character of that period. Handsome, wltn all the elegance of a man of the court* there Is still about him something thaT stamps him as a man apart, something oi the visionary, the enthusiast and the poet, rare in that age of animal lust, chilling wit and embroidered brutality. He is, in fact, steeped in the philosophy of Hotis seau and is trying to put this philosophy Into practice through his connection wltn a secret society that ia plotting the down fall of the state. Before he has gone far enough to Incriminate himself he falls in love with the beautiful Austrian, w'ho per suades him his method of righting the wrongs of humanity is impracticable, ana ends promising to go to Vienna with As he leaves her house a fellow con spirator, his chief. Joins him, says several of their members are arrested, and en trusts the secret articles of the association to him. He then explains to De Lussac that their only hope is to intimidate the minister of police. This can be accom plished only by obtaining an iRpriminat lng contract signed by the minister of po lice and in the possession and safe keep ing of De Richelieu, De Lussac's cousin. With this contract in their possession they can dictate terms to the minister of po lice, obtain the release of the members already imprisoned and be safe them selves. De Lussac goes home, buries the papers he has just received, writes Madame Lin den that he is attempting one last mission for the society, and also writes an asso 1 elate telling him where the papers may be found In case of his death. Then he en ters Richelieu’s home and almost succeeds y in getting the document, but is surprised and leaves It In a drawer which he has unlocked. Before he can make another attempt he Is arrested and taken to the Bastile but not before he has told Madame Linden how nearly he succeeded In get ting the document. She, realizing how desperate her lover’s position Is, visits Richelieu’s home and succeeds where her lover has failed. PART III. CHAPTER I—(Continued). “Here are three letters.” said mad ame as she finished the last, folded it and sealed it. "This one is to the land lord, Monsieur de Gorges, telling him I give up the house today. Take it to him at once: also this letter to Boehmer, the jeweler, and this to Behrens, the haberdasher; they are to bring my purchases here tonight at S. Take them. Stay; what is that?” A carriage had drawn up in the street and some one had rung the door bell. Madame crossed the room and looked out. She saw beyond the rails of the courtyard a carriage, but the visitor had evidently been admitted, for there was no sign of any one in the court yard. “Go,” said she to Rosine; "see who It Is, and should it by any chance be Monsieur de Sartines, say that I am out.'1 A moment later Rosine came running up. “Monsieur de Maupeou has called, madame, and wishes to speak to you.” “Monsieur de Maupeou? 'Well, show him up.” Rosine left the room and the baro*ess presently heard the heavy step of the vice chancellor on the stairs. The door opened and Rosine’s sprightly voice an nounced: “Monsieur de Maupeou.” \De Maupeou, whom we have scarcely seen up to this, was a personage with a funereal air, a face yellow as the parchments of the law, and a coat of black velvet worn the least bit at the Beams; as if to make up for this touch of business on the coat, his ruffles were of the finest lace and his right hand, half buried in its ruffles, showed the iparkle of a diamond. Despite the gloom and sobriety of his appearance there was a touch of magnificence about this man, and de spite the suggestion of parchment, a touch of fire. Now, at this moment, standing before Madame La Baronne, the president of the law courts had assumed bis most gracious air. He bowed as though he were standing be fore the daupbiness, and as he took the seat which she indicated he plunged at once into the business on hand. “Madame,” said he, “this morning I received a note indicating that if I called today at Monsieur le Due de Richelieu's house in the Faubourg St. Honore at 1 o'clock, I should see some thing of interest to me as vice chancel lor of France. Also that I was to make no reference to the note but simply call as a friend of Monsieur de Rich elieu.” “Monsieur," replied the baroness, “I wrote that note.” “Ah, you wrote that note. Well, madame, it is to the honor of my per Bpicaoity that I guessed the fact.” She bowed. "And what you saw— did it Interest you, Monsieur?” "Profoundly.” “That is well. I always like to per form what I promise. Well, Monsieur, If you accept the invitation I gave you to my house this evening, I will prom ise you a sight even more interesting than that which you beheld at the house of Monsieur de Richelieu.” "Madame,” said De Maupeou, “the Bight which I behld this morning inter ested me mainly by the fact that 1 did not understand it at all. May I speak plainly?” “Certainly.” “Well, I saw Monsieur de Sartines in a state of agitation.” "Yes." “I saw three personages of the court on their knees before a lady whom they hate for their beauty and wit.” "Yes.” “And I heard them asking pardon of her under the pretense of playing a comedy.” "Yes.” “When you invited us all here to night 1 was watching Monsieur de Sar lnes’ face. Madame, to be brief, you hold a very high percentage ii. your band.” “Again you are right. Monsieur.” "He is your enemy, for ’tis well known, Madame, in the circles of jus tice that he—hum—” "Holds me in suspicion. Oh, Mon sieur, he has done more than that; he » has insulted me three times, and for J eaoh of those insults I have sworn re r venge.” De Maupeou smiled. “Upon my faith, Madame,” said he, "ail you tell ~(ohe MINISTER. POLICE By HENRY MONTJOY Copy light. 1912, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. me exactly confirms what logical rea soning has made me suspect, and now, to be brief again, I do not know noi do I want to know, what act of Mon sieur de Sartines has placed him in your bad graces, but this I must know; am I invited to your house tonight in my official capacity or simply as Mon sieur de Maupeou?” “In your official capacity, Mon sieur.” "To meet—” "A criminal who has conspired against the welfare of the state." "Madame, this is a serious matter, and 1 warn you if 1 come to your house tonight. I shall come armed with terri ble powers.” “Come armed as you please, Mon sieur, only I warn you of this: if you display your power before the right moment arrives you will spoil all.” "Madame,” replied he, rising to go, "I leave the matter in your hands, as sured as I am that your aim is the same as mine—justice. I shall be with you tonight.” He took his leave, entered his car riage, and gave his coachman the or der, “Versailles,” His hatred of De Sartines had been a growth of years, one of those hatrec\g complex as a mechanism and gold as ice, despite the fire that keeps it alive. He knew much against De Sartines, but he had never been able to make use of his knowledge. Instinct told him now that this woman was probably the Instrument he had been long searching for. That she had the lieutenant gen eral of police in her grip was self-evi dept. “A criminal who has conspired against the welfare of the state.” He kept mumbling the words over as though they pleased him. The crim inal could be none other than De Sar tines. What crime had he committed out of the many possible crimes that he might commit? De Maupeou could not tell, nor did he care so long as the crime was big enough. An hour and a half after leaving Paris, that is to say, at about 20 min utes past 4, De Maupeou’s carriage en tered the courtyard of Versailles. We have said that at this period the din ner hour of the nobility was 4 o'clock; that of the king 6. From this it fol lowed that from 4 to 6 o’clock there was an emptying of the ante-rooms and corridors adjoining the king's apart ments. One might have fancied that the dinner hour would have emptied them entirely, but this was not so. A number of courtiers always clung op in the hope of a glance or word ffom the king as he passed to the dining room or the private apartments of Madame du Rarrv. Nothing is more extraordinary than this obsession of the courtiers of the kings of France which caused them to cling to the presence of the monarch as bees to their queen. Marked in the time of Louis XIII, it became acute in the reign of the grand monarch, and still more so In the time of Louis XV. From the Duchesse de Gramont to the Marchioness de Mirepoix, from Mon sieur de Choiseul to the Prince de Sou bise, there was not one of these people who did not feel half stifled when con demned to breathe air other than the air of the court. So, though it was past the dinner hour, Monsieur de Maupeou as he passed up the stairway of the ambassa dors encountered several of his ac quaintances, and more in the Hall of Mirrors. But it was not to the Icing that Mon sieur de Maupeou had come to pay his court, and disregarding the people whom he met and who made attempts to hold him in talk, lie turned his steps toward that wing of the chateau once occupied by the Princess Adelaide and now occupied by Madame du Barry when that lady was not In residence at Luciennes. CHAPTPJR II. MADAME DU BARRY. Madame du Barry on this especial day was in a bad temper, a rare con dition of mind with her who, capricious, fanciful, volatile, and changeable as any woman could be, rarely displayed ill humor. She was seated now, buried in cush ions, in an embrasure of one of the windows showing the trees of the park, a glimpse of the fountains, and a sky of forget-me-not blue broken by pearl white clouds. Never does the great park of Ver sailles look more beautiful than under the afternoon sun of a summer's day, but madame had no eyes for its beauty Just now, nor for the antics of Pis tache, her little dog, begging to be taken up from the floor, nor for the beauty of Combefere, the macaw, blaz ing with tropical color on his perch; her eyes were entirely taken up by a paper which she held in her hands. Other papers lay on the cushions, evi dently read and cast there in a fit of impatience. Madame du Barry was dressed in a gown of blue Italian silk, stiff almost as a brocade, clasped at the waist with diamonds, and showing the pearl white of her throat and arms to perfection. Her hair was dressed after her own fashion, that is to say negligently; the frisure and the other horrors of the hair dresser’s art had been condemned by her, and to the terror of the frumps of the court a fashion had been intro duced disastrous to all but the young and beautiful. Her face was lovely, one of those faces that surprise as much as they delight us, because they are new. With what feelings of disgust one reads the description of her by the In famous Madame Gourdan: “Her waist was well rounded; her face, of an oval that might have been chiseled by a sculptor; she had large deep-set eyes whose subtle glance was alw-ays de lightful, and I noticed that her skin was of marble whiteness, her hands and feet of the daintiest, and her hair in such profusion that I could not hold it in my two hands.” And yet this ogres* In her stereotyped way had found something of the coun tess's nameless charm in those “deep set eyes whose subtle glance was al ways delightful.” Madame du Barry raised her head on the introduction of Monsieur de Mau peou, and presented her hand to him while retaining in the other hand the paper which she had been reading. "Madame—chere cousine,” murmured tile first magistrate of From e as he bowed over the hand of the comtesse, “what a pleasure it is to find you to delight tlie eye, after ti e dust of the law (Hurts, the faces one sees. My compliments.” “Oh, monsieur,” replied the lovely creature among the cushions, “ho - strange it is that you should bring me your compliments, when all day long every one lias been bringing me their insults. Head that. She handed nim the paper which was | still between her lingers, and De Mau peou, taking it, read: "Pourquol ce brillant vls-a-vis? Est-ce le char d’une deesse Ou de quelque jeune Prineesse?’' S’ecriait un badaud surprls. "Non,” de la foule curieuse, I Ail repond un caustique, "non; Cest le char de la blanchisseuse De set infame—d’Aiguillon.” De Maupeou read this elegant pro duction without moving a muscle of his face. He knew the history of the magnifi cent curriage which the Due d’Aiguil lon had presented to Madame du Bar ry; a carriage which goes down through history as the most beautiful ever built, costing in its construction at least 60,000 livres. He had good cause to know the his tory of this carriage, as when the Due d’Aiguillon had been accused of op pressing the people of Brittany, .De Maupeou it was who had moved the Comtesse du Barry to induce the king to pardon D’Aiguillon. The carriage had been an acknowledgment of this act and the acknowledgment had brought down on the unfortunate com tesse a shower of lampoons and bal lades of a nature to drive an ordinary woman to distraction. De Sartines could have easily seized these ballad mongers, but he held his hand simply because De Maupeou, be ing at the bottom of the gift of the carriage, De Sarines was determined to make that gift as bitter as possible to Madame du Barry. It is necessary to the progress of this story, and it is also interesting, to ex pose a few of those hidden springs and wheels (in the forms of motives and acts) which made up the every-day story of Versailles. “Madame,” said De Maupeou, “the writer of this rubbish is to be pitied for his poverty of pocket and mind, and perhaps pardoned for his fault, but the man who allowed this to be writ ten has committed an unpardonable act*” ,rAh!” cried she, the vision of the pretty carriage in which she could never now drive trundling off into in visibility, ‘if I but had him I would show him how far it is safe to insult a woman with spirit. And look, here are more, the same, and worse.” “I say again, Madame, that the man who wrote these things is only the pen; it is the man who allows them to be circulated who deserves punishment.” ‘And that man?” “Oh, Madame, do you need to ask? Who punished Rochas for his pamphlet against the monarchy? Who punished Therrey for his ballad of Versailles? Who—” “Ah,” said madame, “you mean Mon sieur de Sartines?” “Precisely.” “But, my dear friend, Monsieur de Sartines himself told me that though the things were printed in Paris, the printers had escaped to Holland and were beyond pursuit.” “Oh, did he? Well, Madame, I must ask you a question: when was the first of these ballads sent to you?” “Ten days ago, and I have received a ballad a day since.” “YKrVi/a rv A vn n Vloneioor A ^ Sartines?” “Five days ago.” “So that five ballads have been print ed since, and you will receive another tomorrow. No, Madame, the printers have not escaped to Holland, nor do they wish to escape there; they are quite satisfied to remain in Paris un der the protection and in the pay of—” He paused as if he had gone further than he wished. “You mean to say Monsieur de Sar tines is the Instigator of these villain ies?” "1 mean to say nothing, I'.adame,” replied De Maupeou coldly. “You hint.” “Madame, I only give you food for reflection.” “It must be. The things have been published daily since I spoke, and he was to have seen me today about them, and he has not called. Ah, De Sartines, De Sartines, is that how you recom pense your friends!” De Maupeou smiled; but he Baid nothing for a moment, fixing his eyes on the carved mantel emblazoned with the Du Barry arms and the motto: “Boutez En Avant.” In his carriage, which contained among other things materials for cor respondence, he had occupied himself during the Journey to Versailles in the preparation of a document which he now drew from his pocket. “Madame,” said he, “for every bane there is an antidote, and strangely enough, for the drugs of the prisoner who persecutes you 1 have brought the antidote.” He handed the order to her and she read: “For our vice chancellor, Monsieur de Maupeou, to hold this day in inquiry at the house known as No. 12, Rue Coq Heron into the conduct of certain per sons under suspicion as enemies to the state. Giving the said Monsieur de Maupeou full power to seize all docu ments that may cast light on the con duct of the persons indicted, with pow er to arrest and detain for further ex amination any person or persons con cerning whom, in his judgment, the evidence may direct itself. (Signed) “At Our Palace of Versailles.” (Continued next week.) Big Business of Government. From the National Monthly. One of the most interesting of all gov ernmental departments particularly at the resent time owing to various interna tional relations is department of state. An act in July, 1789, established a depart ment of foreign affairs, the sole duty of which was to conduct the relations of the United States with foreign countries. There were other duties, however, which it was thought that this department could perform advantageously such as Issuing commissions to presidential appointees, preserving the acts of congress, and ex ecutive orders, and proclamation, and be ing custodian of the great seal. So in September. 1789, the department was changed to the department of state. The first congress under the constitu tion added to the department of foreign affairs certain internal duties and called it the department of state. The office of attorney general was established In 1789, being provided for by the great act that established the federal court. The de partment of the navy was established in 1798. the home department, commonly called the department of the interior, in 18-19, the department of agriculture In 1889, the department of commerce and labor in 1903. The Farmer's Fear of Good Methods. From Hoard’s Dairyman. A farmer was questioned about buying phosphate and ground limestone to in crease the fertility of his farm. This was the way he answered: “Now, see here. Suppose everybody did as you advise, we would be raising so much that prices would be clear down to the lowest notch.’’ The answer was as follows: “Who are you farming for, yourself or the rest of the farming community? You know that if everybody else even should do the right thlTg it would take 33 years to get them all into it. In the mean time their bad farming is lessening pro duction and that keep** up prices. You have the chance if you Improve it to in crease the producing power of your land, take advantage* of high prices and get rich before ‘everybody’ wakes up to the sit uation. Isn’t it about time you saw th<-se things in the light of your individual in terests as a farmer? How absurd it is to go on impoverishing your land for fear that ‘everybody’ will catch on sometime and reduce prices." etfoMDt£Murimn | Ih' -■ jUjcSmim"? \ Hi ( I ji JMtt/t Salts- I SifilQ ''2. N*3, THERAPION tsrxds If U’s the remedy for TOUR dwn ailment. Don't send a cent. Absolutely FREE. 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