THE
TEETH OF THE TIGER
MAURICE LEBLANC
|
r TRAN3I*ATED BT
. ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATT03
•
CHAPTER FOURTEEN. Cont(tnued.)
“We have to do with an auto
matic distributor that delivers the
incriminating letters which it con
'ains by clockwork, releasing them
only between this hour and that
on such and such a night fixed in
advance and only at times when
the electric light is off. Yon have
the apparatus before you. No
doubt the experts will admire its
ingenuity and confirm my asser
tions. But,, given the fact that it
was found in the ceiling of this
rogm, given the fact that it con
tained letters written by M. Fau
ville, am I not entitled to say that
it was constructed by M. Fau
ville, the electrical engineer?”
Once more the name of M. Fau
ville returned, like an obsession;
and each time the name stood
more clearly defined. It was M.
Fauville; then M. Fauville, the
engineer; then M. Fauville, the
electrical engineer. And thus the
picture of the “hater,” as Don
Luis said, appeared in its accur
ate outlines, giving those men,
used though they were to the
strangest criminal monstrosities,
a thrill of terror. The truth was
now no longer prowling around
them. They 'were alajady fight
ing with it, as you fight with an
adversary whom you do not see
but who clutches you by the
throat and brings you to.the
ground.
And the prefect of police, hum
ming up all his impressions, said,
in a strained voice: .
“So M. Fauville wrote those
letters in order to ruin his wife
and the man who was in love with
her?”
“Yes.”
“In that case-”
“What?”
“Knowing, at the same time
that he was threatened with
death, he wished, if ever the
threat was realized, that his death
should be laid to the charge of
his wife and her friend?”
“Yes.”
“And, in order to avenge him-;
self on their love for each r.tticr'
and to gratify his hatred of them
bo^h, he wonted the whole set of
facts to point to them as guilty of
the murder of which he would be
the victim?”
• “Yes.”
“So thjd—so that M. Fauville,;
in one part of his accursed work,!
was—what shall I say?—the ac
complice of his own murder. He
dreaded death. He struggled |
against it. But he arranged that.;
his hatred should gain by it. j
That’s it’ isn’t it? That’s how j
it is?”
“Almost, Monsieur le Prefet. ]
You are following the same stages l
by which I travelled and, like
myself, you are hesitating before
the last truth' before the truth
which gives the tradegy its sinis
ter character and deprive* it of!
all human proportions.”
The prefect struck the table
with his two fists and, in a sud
den fit of revolt, cried:
“It's ridiculous! It’s a per
fectly preposterous theory! M.
Fauville threatened with death |
arid contriving his wife’s ruin!
with that Machiavellian persever
ance? Absurd! The man who
came to my office, the man whom
you saw, was thinking of only one
tiling: how to escape dying! He
was obsessed by one dread alone,
the dread of death.
“'It is not at such moments,”
the prefect emphasized, “that a
men fits up clockwork and lays
trape, especially when those traps
cannot take effect unless he dies
by foul play. Can y6u see M^
1 auville .working at his automatic
machine, putting in with his own
hands letters which he has tRken
the pains to write to a friend
three months before and inter
cept, arranging events so that his
wife shall appear guilty and say
ing, ‘There! If I die murdered,
I m easy in my mind: the person
to be arrested wi\l be Marie!’
“No you must confess, men
don’t take these gruesome pre
cautions. Or, if they do—if they
do, it means that they're sure of
being murdered. It means that
they agree to be murdered. It
means that they are at one with
the murderer, so to speak, and
meet him halfway. In short, it
means-”
He interrupted, himself, us it
Si
the sentences which he had spok
en had surprised him. Aud the
others seemed equally discon
certed. And all of them unoon
sciously drew from 'those sen
tences the conclusions which they
implied, and which they them
selves did not yet fully p«*«tre.
Don Luis did not remove his
eyes from the prefect, and await
ed the inevitable words.
M. Desmalions muttered: •
“Come, come, you are not go
ing to suggest that he had
agreed-”
‘‘I suggest nothing, Monsieur le
Prefet,” said Don Luis. "Bo far,
you have followed th# logic*! and
natural trend of your thoughts;
and that brings you to your pres
ent position.”
"Yea, yes, I know, but I am
showing you the absurdity of your
theory. It can’t be correct, *nd
we can’t believe in Maris Fnn
j ville’s innocence unless we are
prepared to suppose an unheard of
thing, that M. Fauville took part
in his own murder. Why, it’s
laughable!”
And he gave a laugh; but it was
a forced laugh and did not ring
true.
“For, after all/' be added,
“you can’t deny that that is
where we stand.”
“I don’t deny it.”
“Well?”
“Well, M. Fauville, as you say,
took part in his own murder.”
This was said in the quietest
possible fashion, but with an air
'of such certainty that no one
dreamed of protesting. After the
work of deduction and supposition
which Don Luis had compelled his
hearers to undertake,, they found
th-.’inr.elves in a corner which it
was impossible for them tc leave
withoul stumbling against unan
swerable objections.
Thor? was no longer *nw doubt
abant M. Fauville’s share in his
c.w-i death. But of what did that
i nsist? What part had he
player! in th» tragedy of hatred
and murder? Had he played that
I art. which ended in the socrifive
of his life, voluntarily <>r under
compulsion? Who, when all was
raid and done, bad served as his
accomplice or his executioner?
All these questions came crowd
ing upon the minds of M. l>«ma
; 1 ions and the others. They thought
i of nothing but of how to solve
i them, and Don Luis could feel cev
j tain that his solution was accepted
! beforehand. From that moment
! he had bdt to tell his story of what
: had happened without fear of con
tradiction. He did so briefly, after
the manner of a succinct report
limited to essentials
Three months before the
crime, M. Fauville wrote a series
of letters to one of bis friends, M.
Langernault, who, ns Sergeant
| Mazeroux will have told yon, Mon
jsieur le Prefet, had been dead for
several years, a fact of which M.
Fauville cannot have been ignor
ant. These letters were posted,
but were intercepted by some
meatTs which it is not necessary
that we should know for the mo
ment. M. Fauville erased the post
marks and the addresses and in
serted the letters in a machine con
structed for the purpose, of which
he regulated the works so that the
first letter should be delivered a
fortnight after his death and the
others at intervals of 10 days."
“At this moment it is certain
that his plan was concerted down
to the smallest detail. Knowing
that Sauverand was in love with
his wife, watching Sauvaraud’s
movements, he must obviously
have noticed that his detested
rival used to pass under the win
dows of the house every Wednes
day and that Marie Fauville
would go to her window.
“This is a fact of the first im
portance. one which was exceed
ingly valuable to me - and it will
impress you as being equal to a
material proof. Every Wednesday
evening, I repeal , Sauveimi l used
to wander round the house. Now
note this; first, the crime pre
pared by M. Fauville was com
mitted on a Wednesday evening;
secondly, it was at her husband’s
express request that Mme. Fau
ville went out that evening to go
to the opera and to Mme. d’Ers
iuger’s.1’
Don Luis stopped for a few see
^onds and then continued:
“Consequently, on the morning
of that Wednesday, everything
wag ready, the fatal clock was
wound up, the incriminating ma
chinery was working to perfec
tion, and the proofs to come
would confirm the immediate
proofs which M. Fauville held in
reserve. Better still, Monsieur le
Prefet, you had received from him
a letter in which he told yon of
the plot hateched against liim,
and and he implored yonr assist
ance for the morning of the next
day—that is to say, after his
death!
“Everything, in short, led him I
to think that things would go ac
cording to the ‘hater’s’ wishes,
when something occurred that
nearly upset his schemes; the ap
pearance of Inspector Verot, who
had been sent by you, Monsieur le
Prefet, to collect particulars
about the Mornington heirs. What
happened between the two men?
Probably no one will pver know.
Both are dead; and their secret
will not come to life again. But
we oan at least say for certain
that Inspector Verot was here and
took away with him the cake of
chocolate on which the teeth of
the tiger were seen for the first
time, and also that Inspector
Verot succeeded, thanks to cir
cumstances with which we are un
acquainted, in discovering M.
Pauville’s projects,”
“This we know,” explained
Don Luis, “because inspector
Verot said bo in his own agonizing
words; because it was through
him that we learned, that the
crime was to take place on the
following night; and because he
had set down his discoveries iu a
letter which was stolen from him.
“And Pauville knew it also, be
cause, to get rid of the formidable
enemy who was thwarting his de
signs, he poisoned him; because,
when the poison was slow in act
ing, he had the audacity, under a
disguise whicli ma^e him look
like Sauverand and which was
one day to turn suspicion against
Sauverand, he had the audacity
and the presence of mind to fol
low Inspector Verot to the Cafe
du Pont-Neuf, to purloin the let
ter of explanation which Inspec
tor Verot wrote you, to substitute
a blank sheet of paper for it, and
then to ask a passerby, who might
become a witness against Sauve
rand, the way to the nearest un
derground station for Neuilly,
where Sauverand lived! There's
your man, Monsieur le Prefet.”
Don Luis spoke with increasing
force, with the ardour' that
springs from conviction; and his
logical and closely argued speech
seemed to conjure up the actual
truth.'
“There’s your man, Monsieur
le Perfet,” he repeeed. “There ’s
your scoundrel. Aud the situa
tion in which he found himself
was such, the fear inspired by In
spector Verot’s possible revela
tions was sucji, that, before put
ting into execution the horrible
deed which he had planned, he
came to the police office to make
sure that his victim was no longer
alive and had not been able to de
nounce him.
“You remember.the scene, Mon
sieur le Prefet, the fellow’s agita
tion and fright: ‘Tomorrow evttr
ning. ’ he said. Yea, it waa for the
morrow that he asked for your
help, because he knew that every
thing would be over that same
evening, and that next day the
police would be confronted with
a murder, with the two culprits
against whom he himself had
■ heaped up the charges, with Marie
Pauville, whom he had, so to
! speak, accused in advance. • * *
“That was why Sergeant Maze
roux’s visit and mine to his house
at 9 o’clock in the evening, em
barrassed him so obviously. Who
were those intruders? Would they
not succeed iu, shattering his
plan? Reflection reassured him.
even as we, by our insistence,
compelled him to give wav.
“After all, what did he care?’’
asked Perenna.
“His measures were so well
taken that no amouut of watch
ing could destroy them or even
make the watchers aware of them.
What was to happen would hap
pen in our presence and unknown
to us. Death, summoned by him,
would do its work. • • * Ami the
comedy, the tragedy, rather, ran
its course. Mme. Fauville, whom
ue was sending to the opera, came
to say good night. Then his serv
ant brought him something to eat,
including a dish qf apples. Then
followed a fit of rage, the agony
of the man who is about to die and
who fears death and a whole
scene of deceit, in which he
showed us his safe aud the drab
cloth diary which was supposed
to contain the story of the plot.
* * * That ended matters.
“Mazeroux and I retired to the
hall passage, closing the door
after us; \and M. Fauville re
mained alone and free to act.
Nohing now could prevent the
fulfilment of his wishes. At 11
o’clock in the evening, Mme.
Fauville—to whom no doubt, in
the course of the day, imitating
Sauverand’s handwriting, he had
sent a letter—one of those letters
which are always torn up at once,
in which Sauverand entreated the
poor woman to grant him an in
terview at the Banelagh—Mme.
Fauville would leave the opera,
and, before going to Mme. d’Er
srnger’s party, would spend an
hour not far from the house.
“On the other hand, Sauverand
would be performing his usual j
Wednesday pilgrimage less than j
half a mile away, in the opposite ;
direction. During this time the j
crime would be committed.
“Both of them would come un
der the notice of the poliee, either !
by M. Pauville’s allusions or by
the incident at the Cafe du Pont
Neuf; both of them, moreover,
would be incapable either of prov
ing an alibi or of explaining their
presence so near the house-; were
not both of them bound to be ac
cused and convicted of the crime 1
* * * In the most unlikely event
that some chance should protect
them, there wras an undeniable
proof lying ready to hand in tke
shape of the apple containing the
very marks of Marie Pauville’s
teeth! And then, a few weeks
later, the last and decisive trick,
the mysterious arrival at intervals
of 10 days, cf the letters denouuc- !
ing the pair. So everything was
.settled.
“The smallest details were fore
seen with infernal clearness. You :
remember, Monsier le I'refe*, that j
turquorise which dropped out of j
my ring and was found in ihc !
'safe? There were only four per
sons who could have seen it rn 1
picked it up. M. Fauville was one
of them. Well, he was just thi
one, whom we all excepted; and 1
yet it was he who, to e^st suspi- J
cion upon me am] to forestall an i
interference which be felt would j
be dangerous, seized the oppor- !
tunity and placed the turquoise in |
the safe! * * *
. “This time the work was com *
pleted. Fate was about to bo ful- !
filled. Between the ‘hater’ and
his victims there was but the dis
tancc of one act. The act was per
formed, M. Fauville died.”
Don Luis ceased. Fis words
were followed by a long silence;
and be felt certain that the ex
traordinary story which he had
just finished telling met with the
obsolute approval of his hearers.
They did not discuss, they be
lieved. And yet it was the most
incredible truth that he was ask
ing them to believe.
M. Dcsmalions asked one last
question.
“You were in that passage with
Sergeant Mazeroux. There weie
detec*ives outside the house Ad
mitting that M. Fauville knew
that, he was to be killed that night
and at that very hour of the night
who ean have killed him and wlro
can have killed his son? There
was no one within these four
walls. ”
“There was M. Fauville.”
A sudden elamor rf protests
arose. The veil wras promptly
torn; and the spectacle revealed
by Don Luis provoked, in addition
to horror, an unforeseen outburst
of increduulity and a sort of revolt
against the too kindly attention
which had been aceorded to those
explanations. The prefect of po
lice expressed the general feeling |
by exclaiming:
“Enough of words! Enough of ;
theories! However logical they !
may seem, they lead to absurd!
conclusions.”
“Absurd in appearance, Mon-,
sieur le Prefet; but how do we |
know that M. Fauville’s unheard
Of conduct is not explained by j
very natural reasons t Of course, j
no one dies with a light heart for ,
the mere pleasure of revenge. But!
how do wc know that M. Fauville, I
whose extreme emaciation and j
pallor you must have noted as I j
did, was not stricken by some j
mortal illness and that, knowing
himself doomed-”
“I repeat, enough of words!”
cried the prefect. “You go only
by suppositions. What I want is
proofs, a proof, only one. And
we are still waiting for it.”
“Monsieur le Prefet, when I re
moved the chandelier from the
plaster that supported it, I found, j
outside the upper surface of the j
metal box, a sealed envelope. As j
i he chandelier was placed under j
the attic occupied by M. Fauville’s 1
son, it is evident that M. Fauville j
was able, by lifting the boards of
ther floor in his son’s room, to
reach the top of the machine
which he had contrived. This was
how, during that last night, he
placed this sealed envelop in posi
tion, after writing on it the date
of the murder, ‘31 March, 11 p.
m.,’ and his signature, ‘Hippo-;
lyte Fauville.” /'
1 jjh "'onUnu«d N«xt W'taXl ,
4444*44444-» 4*4444444444444
4 CONCENTRATE. 4
4 4
4 From the Washington Times. 4
4 Ail the education that ail the 4
4 colleges of the world oould give 4
4 you would r.ot equal In value the 4
4 education that you can gtve your- 4
4 self by compelling your mind to 4
4 work steadily and your will to keep 4
4 pointing in one direction. 4
4 Nobody can teach you that but 4
4 yourself. Here is a quotation from 4
4 I.ecky, Tou might paste It up on 4
4 your httle mirror, thus making 4
4 sure that you will see tt qulto fre- 4
4 quently when you study your 4
4 tiicughtful face or your new neck- 4
4 tie tri the morning: 4
The dlscipllno of thought; the 4
4 establishment of an ascendancy 4
f ?.*, the will over our courses of 4
♦ thinking; the power of casting 4
t4 away morbid trains of reflection 4
“did turning resolutely to other 4
subjects or aspects of life; the 4
t-e power of concentrating the mind 4
v geronsly on a serious subject 4
and pursuing continuous trains 4
4 of thought-form perhaps the 4
4 best fruits of Judicious self edu- 4
4 cation. 4
4 4
Lend Money to Yourself.
From the Saturday Evening Post.
The men who make a living by manu
facturing grievances for others would
have to pay a heartbreaking excess profit*
tax this year if they were incorporated.
Tlieh- industry is so prosperous that they
are now delivering grievances by automo
bile Instead of on foot. They are the fore
most of our profiteers. They are the J.
Rufus Wallinfords of economios, selling
get-rtch-qulck theories of how to live
withoqt work and to take away the money
of those who do work.
We have always had with us the fel
lows who complain that Shakespeare came
alo-ng first and used up all the Ideas, leav
ing nothing to write about; that the last
generation settled down like a swarm of
locusts on all the free land, leaving noth
ing to farm; anj that big business has
hogged all the loose dollars, leaving on
•pare change for the late comers. Now
we have the man who says that in the
future we must have no leisure class ex
cept the laboring class, and that the
capital accumulated during the past 100
years must be given them to blow in.
Shakespeafe used old stuff. He was a
success because he added himself to it.
When we say that a man "has got it in
him” we mean that he has put It in. The
socialist is right when he argues that all
raw material is valueless except for the
labor that is added to it—if he means
human raw material.
Today there is a chapee to put mor? of
yourself into your work than ever "before
—and to make more out of the Invest
ment. More money is being made in a
year out of ^200 pn acre land than the
pioneer sal? In' a lifetime. The big busi
ness of 1900 is mere piking beside the
big business of today and the bigger busi
ness that is coming tomorrow. The most
successful farmers in the west were im
migrants and hired hands 20 or 30 years
ago; the most successful business men
were laborers, clerks and salesmen; and
practically all the writers whose names
loom large in print were $15 or $20 a week
reporters.
For the man with skilled or merely will
ing hands there are today more jobs,
better jobs with higher pay and a wider
margin for saving, with possibilities of
quicker advancement, than at any time
in the past 100 years. This is the era of
big opportunity for the little fellow. If
you have the will to work and the grit
to save you are on the way up. A few
hundred, $1,000, $5,000 laid by in War Sav
ings stamps and I.iberty bonds' may mean
a fortune later. It will certainly mean
a step up. \
Every time you. stlak a stamp in the
War Savings book you are sending money
to yourself—to be delivered on that day
in the future when opportunity will stand,/
ready to furnish the chance if you can
find the cash. Every man who speeds up
on production and slows down on spend
ing Is helping the country in its hour of
need and making sure provision for hif
own.
Amgrtoa Pay» Damages.
iTrove the European Edition of the New
York Herald.
" A cable from Washington reads:
‘‘President Wilson has asked congress
to appropriate J13.511 to be paid to Mme.
Crignier. of Paris, for damages caused
Urange-aux-Belles by* the excavations
made in 1905 in searching for the body of
Admiral .John Paul donee. Congress will
make the appropriation."
The body of John Paul Jones, the
"Father of the American navy.” was on
Thursday, July 6, 1905, formally delivered
over by Uen. Horace Porter, ambassador
extraordinary, to Francis B. Hoomis and
Admiral Stgsbee. delegated to receive It
by the president of the United States.
Tha admiral's body had rested forgotten
for 113 years In Its grave. Five hundred
American sailors and marine came to
Paris to act as an escort and French sol
diers paid the .ast honors. The body lay
in state in the American church in the
Avenue de l’Alma before being conveyed
to Cherbourg.
The thoroughfare outside the church
was lined with soldiers and crowded with
spectators, while thousands of people
waited along the Champs-Rlysees, on the
Pont Alexr.ndre III and on the Esplanade
des Invalides to see the cortege. A tribute
has'been erected in the Place des ln
vaiides and-here the casket was placed on
a bier and covered with an American flag
and with flowers.
With the body of t£e man who, as cap •
tain of the United States Hanger received
from a French mjtn-of-war the first
salute ever given the American flag by a
foreign power lying thus in state and
surrounded by the ambassadors and min
isters of nearly every-civilized nation, the
soldiers of France filed before the tribune
twice, saluting as they marched past. At
Cherbourg the coffin was placed on board
Admiral Sigsbee's flagship, the cruiser
Brooklyn.
Monday. July 24. the body wa's taken
ashore at Annapolis. Mil,, and placed in a
simple brick vault awaiting the national
reception. The French nation participated
in this ceremony with a landing party
from the cruiser Jurien de L,a Graviere.
It Will End.
The captain and the colonel still
bravely charge the foe; hot nothing is
eternai in this punk world below: some
day when we are snooping around with
spirits drooping, fair peace will come
kerwhooping, and end the reign of woe.
They’re shooting and they're blasting,
as they have done for yea"-»; but noth
ing’s everlasting in this, the best of
spheres: all things on earth are ended,
the piffling and the splendid, when
Father Time has wended, a while, knee
deep in tears. Today Is charged with
sorrow', and comfort is denied; but
there’ll be a tomorrow all wool and
three feet wide; it's worth tail- while
repeating tint mundane things are
fleeting; the trials we are meeting some
frne day will have died. I’m glad the
world keeps shifting until we are per
plext; I’m glad v.e’re always drifting
from one thing to the next; I’m glad
that every Sunday Is followed by a
Monday, that I am happy one day, the
next day sorely vext. So let us all
endeavor to keep our smiles on
straight; the war won’t last forever,
! and that’s as sure as fate; some morn
| ing we’ll awaken to see the daylight
: breakin’ upon a world fjrsaker^ by
every war lord skate.
-- - . --'-. . ~
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Something of a Novelty in the Way of
Funerals, but It Satisfied
the Widow.
“ 'Ow nre yer terday, Mrs. Jones?"
said Mrs. Muggins from the corner
house. “I'm very sorry to 'ear of the
death of your ’usbnnd.” a
"Yes, dead and buried, ’e Is, too,” *
said the widow, drying her eyes with
the corner of her apron. “Eh! bless
'im, I gev 'ini a good funeral; ’e ’ad
sijety followers.”
“ ’Ow did yer manage to feed all
them?” gasped Mrs. Muggins.
“Well, ter tell yer the ’onest truth,
Mrs. Biuggins, I couldn’t get food no
’ow, an' I didn’t like to seem moan,
'cos ’Enery, bless ’im, was well in
sured. W’en we come back from the
cemetery I ups an' tells ’em to go
'omc for their tea, and then come back
'ere. So to show ’em it wasn’t mean
ness, I took ’em all to the 'Ippodrorne
and paid for ’em. l'oor ’Enery, it was
a grand funeral, but none too good for
im, bless Mm !”—London Tit-Bits.
TOO WEAK
TO FIGHT
The “Come-back” man was really never
iown-and-out. His weakened condition
because of overwork, lack of exercise, im
proper eating and living demands stimula
tion to satisfy the cry for a health-giving
appetite and the refreshing sleep essential
to strength. GOLD MEDAL Haarlem Oil
Capsules, the National Remedy of Holland,
wifi do the work. They are wonderful.
Three of these capsules each day will put
i mun on his feet before he knows it;
whether his trouble comes from uric acid
ooisening, the kidneys, gravel or stone in
the bladder, stomach derangement or other
ailments that befall the over-zealous Amer
ican. The best known, most reliable rem
edy for these troubles is GOLD MEDAL
Haarlem Oil Capsules. This remedy has
stood the test for more than 200 years
since its discovery in the ancient labora
tories in Holland. It acts directly and
gives relief at once. Don’t wait until you
are entirely down-and-out. but take them
today. Your druggist will gladly refund
your mousy if they do not help you. Ac
cept no substitutes. Look "for the name
HOLD MEDAL on every box, three sizes.
They are the pure, original, imported
Haarlem Oil Capsules.—Adv.
Exchange of Civilities.
“My friend,” said the motorist, who
had Just htunped into a pedestrian,
“I’m afraid you don't know how to
take a joke.”
“I concede that your ear is a joke,”
replied the pedestrian in acid tones,
“lull I’m not in a receptive mood this
morning for that kind of humor. *
Birmingham ^ge-Herald.
Why Bald So Young?
Dandruff aud dry scalp usually tho
ran a,' and Cuticura the remedy. Rub
the Ointment Into scalp. Follow with
hot shampoo of CutLcura Soap. For
free sample address, “Cuticura, Dept.
X, Boston. At druggists and by mail.
Soip 25, Ointment 25 and 50.—Adv.
Satire.
“I’n. what is satire?” “Satire, mj i
hoy, is where you say something hitter ^
with a sweet smile.”
On the road to prosperity there are |
no barrel houses. ij
wy A Wholesome, Cleansing,
Y Refreshing and Heeling
“ ■ Lotion—Murine for Red
tr* ness, Soreness, Granula
■ “ jfbC: tion, Itchingand Burning
~^ of the Eyes or Eyelids;
“2 Drops” After the Movie*. Motoring or Golf
w ill win your confidence. Ask Your Druggist
for Murine when your Eyee Need Car*. M-ll
Murine Eye Remedy Co., Chliasfl
I
