The National tribune., 1881-09-10

! fiendish cunning, had brought me into a den
of robbery and murder. / was to wait for death
in that lonely house and that horrible dark
chamber!
What. in the name of heaven, in the name of
desperate helplessness, was l to do? The voices
grew confused, then ceased altogether. | was
alone. Nobody knew me in Paris; nobody would
miss me there If did not return, my employ
ers would set me down as having run off with
the jewels; my mother and sisters themselves
would believe guilty and break their hearts
and starve Could escape from the house? I'm
possible through unknown passages and a locked
door,
! lnstinctively felt for my revolver, useless as
it must be in dark room. The murderer or
murderers, knowing the premises, could be upon
me at any moment and have me down before l
could know of their approach; and one must
have some faint light for an aim. l had known
that all sorts of atrocities are even more common
in Paris than in London; bat how could / dream
that such doom as this, all for believing in the
| smooth tongue of pretty servant, would ever be
mine? [ say | felt for my revolver, though
knowing all the while how vain a toy it would
be now. A knife for close quarters would have
been ten times its value; and that too, would
have been vain. I don't think myself less brave
than other men, yet I could not help groan of
despair at the thought that l was about to be
murdered so helplessly, so hopeessly. How soon
would it be?
1 drew out my revolver, and in doing so little
fusee-bOx, with few wax matches in it, fell on
the floor One moments light would be some
thing, though the last CLEAN ] was ever to see.
l groped for the box, found it at my feet, and
struck one of the matches. Heaven! what met
my eyes? The gleam of flame had indeed come
not moment too soon.
Straight in front of me, coming toward me
through an open door, was as evil looking a ruff
fan | had ever seen; a murderous ruffian if
ever there one, hideOusly livid and with eyes
that glared toward mine. Thank heaven for that
one CLEAN of light! 1t might be enough for a
straight aim. No time must be lost am
no fighting man. heaven knows. Butt fired.
For moment the smoke clouded my eyes.
But l heard cry. The fame from my match
had not wholly died. And by its light saw
great heavens! l had not one murderer to deal
with A whole gang of brigands were upon me
and my diamonds. What was to be done?
Five more brigands at least were there. Well
| dared not pray for so hopeless thing as life
but l would at least be true to my trust and sell
it dearly. My name, my honor might yet be
saved First to right, then to left, fired, and
fired -twice-three times
And then the match went out, and left me to
the mercy of the robbers and ut-throats into
whose hands / had been drawn by woman's
words.
Suddenly blaze of light filled the room, so
bright that my eyes, till now blinded by dark
ness, were more blinded still.
What mailman is hefe?" cried a woman's
voice-that other woman's, not Mademoiselle
Lenoir's. 90! o! o! My poor dear, beautiful
boudoir! Send for the gen d'armes!'
Was l alive? l suppose So since 1 could still
hear and see. And how can | describe the scene
that | beheld?
| was in an elegantly furnished ROOM On my
left hand, with clasped hands, gazing at me with
a face full of amazement, was MademOiselle Le-
noir. On my right, looking on me with looks of
mingled anger, despair, and terror, was hand |
some lady, who resembled queen of tragedy.
80 Amelia!" cried the latter.
40 Madame la Princesse!" echoed MademOi- /
selle Lenoir.
"My favorite clock" moaned the right-hand .
lady.
And three whole mir" Mademoiselle was /
beginning, when I felt my arms grasped tightly |
behind my back, and mans stern voice in my |
ear
"Who are you? Are you mailman or brgand? ,
What does this mean? Who are you that make |
havoc with the boudoir of Madame Ia Princesse (.
de Mouranov? Who say"
| must confess it at last! am a little near
sighted, and, by the dim light of a match, had |
mistaken the sixfold reflection of myself in the .
panels of an octagonal room, lined with large
mirrors for a band of murderers.
And that talk of death and diamonds behind
the wall? Well, as I learned afterward, the
Princess MOuranOv was, as it seemed half the
world knew, busily occupied in flying from the
pursuit of a husband from whom she was trying
to keep not only herself but her famous diamonds.
Her eccentric movements had baffied him for
long; but the temporary sOjourn OF her parure
with firm had nearly put him on the traces.
Read the talk by the light of this, and you will
the big talk of Madame's last
a German baron who did meet the
Prince in mortal fight with swords and came
off second best, with a cash that went through
his sword arm. Who has got the diamonds now
neither know nor care.
But as for revolvers-well, if you must keep