The Plymouth weekly Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1860-1869, 1869-05-13

nothing more than brief, straightfOr-
ward confession. How did Madame rEs-
paraye and her daughter come TO their
death ?"
These quietly-spoken yet piercing words
made the sailor start back as if bitten by
an adder. Brandishing his crab-stick, he
sprsng toward The door. But Allard had
already as silently as swiftly locked it, and
put the key in his pocket. Cooked re-
volver in hand, he continued in the same
calm, mild tone "YOu see, my friend
you are in my power. A full and frank
confession only can save you. You, |
know, are innocent of the murder; but
how came your ape to perpetrate it. and
what were you doing that nightin Madame
PEsparaye'5 yard? You were more than
| once heard to cry out, cursed devil !! and
my Godr Already, my friend, as you see,
know the greater part of your story be
reasonable, then, and sit down by me, and
quietly tell me all about the matter from
the first. If you are open and candid with
me, not hair of your head shall be
harmed"
"Sir, as / live, l am indeed
innocent Of this murder, yet it
has caused me many bad hours
| will tell you all. On my last voyage
brought the ape with me from Borneo, ex-
recting to sell him here in Paris for a pret
ty piece of money. But tue chance for
that seemed as if it would never come.
Now, on that unlucky night, L came home
ate-I had been drinking little. strand
| found the wooden cage ia which | had shut
the animal broken open, and the ape, with
his face lathered and my razor IN his hand,
standing before the looking glass, scraping
away, just as he had often seen me when
| shaving myself. [ was little startled, sir,
and made jump for the whip with which
| had often before brought the brute to
reason. But, making one spring, the ra-
zor still in his hand, he flew through the
window out into the street. More fright
ened than ever, not knowing what might
take place, l hurried after him with the
| whip. We ran in this way through seve
raj streets. They were as if dead, for it
was three o'clock in the morning. when
Paris is asleep Suddenly the ape saw Il
| light burning in the open back window OF
| house in the Rue MOrgue. He sprang
over the low wall, ran swiftly up the
| lightning rod, and swung himself into the
| room. L heard two women scream out in
| wild terror-then noisy scufhe-and
after that ii became quieter. Halt dead
| with fear, also scrambled over the wall,
and far enough up the lightning rod 10
see into the room. A terrible sight almost
| froZe the blood in my veins. The old lady
| lay, with her throat gashed and bleeding,
on the floor, and the daughter was already
| dead-choked TO death, sir-in the cruel
grasp of that savage brute. As soon as he
| heard my threatening voice and saw the
dreaded whip, he Immediately dropped the
poor, dead mademoiselle, and flew around
| the room, shrieking with terror, and toss
| ing and breaking the furniture, and tear
| ing the clothes and the beds To pieces
| Hoping as it seemed, TO cover up his bad
act, he suddenly laid hold on the daughter
and pushed her as far up the chimney as
he could. The body of the old lady he
flung with all his strength through the
window. over my head, down into the
yard. Half out of my senses with horror
aud fear, slipped to the ground. Then,
hearing the sound of voices in the house,
fled, full of ter tor, from the miserable
place. How got home do not know.
| OF my murderOus ape | have since seen
nothing. Now, sir, you know all: do with
me as you will"
| This plain story the sailor repeated be-
fore the court The frightful mystery of
| the double murder WAS at last explained
| The chimney sweep, Francois Ramel, was,
as matter of course, set at liberty.
The unpunished and unpunishable
perpetrator of the crime was soon after
ward captured, almost dead with hunger,
| in the forest of Versailles, and is to-day
sad celebrity of the Jardin des Pantes
AS for Ailard, mis- name was at once in
| everybody's mouth. The Parisians were
amazed at the rare acuteness. the wonder
full faculty of combination, the quiet en-
ergy of this plain, private man. He be-
| came the hero of the hour. The famed
and notorious Vidocq-in his boyhood Il
thief, in his youth sharper and galley
slave, in his manhood an escaped convict,
and in the service of the police wretch
ed spy, who, in one single year, tTeacher
Ously betrayed into the grasp of the law
seven hundred of his former associates in
crime, and who finally became the chief of
the Paris police this Vidocq had been. a
few years previously, suddenly, and for
some unexplained reason, dismissed from
.ervice, and was now living paper maker
in Picardy. AS yet, no worthy successor
had been found for this astute and sharp
witted guardian of the public safety. But
in Allard was discovered one that might
have been Vidocq's master, aud Allard was
made chief of the Paris police. And his
subsequent career fully justified the choice.
Once q Month.