Morris tribune., 1882-10-19
LIFE FOR A LIFE.
a Detective,s Experience i.

At no period had fashionable society
been SO brilliant in New Orleans as in the
winter Of 1916. Those familiar with il
then have not forgotten . young Cuban
belle who reigned an acknowledged queen
or society. Young, beautiful, and the
heiress of untold wealth, it was not sur.
pricing that she was sought after and be.
came an object of intense interest, not only to
the adventures who are always in search of 9
wealthy bride, but the scions of the haugh-
test and most aristocratic families But
when to the enumeration of these attractive
qualities is added mind brilliant and fas-
clnatlng, with q conversational talent rarely
equaled, one will not wonder at the sue
CESS she everywhere met with.
Indeed, few such women as Nina Barti-
lerte are met with in lifetime. The rich
beauty of the tropics was hers. Tall and
queenly, the majestic figure was faultless
IN wlilowy outline and symmetry. There
was nameless grace in everything she
said and did. The large black eyes were
lustrous, fathomless; and the purelish
black hair, long and shining, would have
rivalled the mythical tresses of Berenice
herself. She had the happy faculty of so
dispensing smiles that, while ever sur
rounded with number of admirers, eat b
supposed himself the special object of at
tention. She never permitted herself to
indulge the foibles of the coquet-never
assumed the variable and frivolous eccen-
triclties of the fattered beauty; but always
courteous, always seemingly pleased with
attention, she never failed to exert an all
controlling influence over her admirers.
One person, however, seemed to be es-
peclaily singled out as an object of peculiar
favor. 1t was young creole named Paul
Counet. All the arts of the pacticed wo.
man of the world-al the fascinations none
other knew better how to use-were brought
to bear on heart already passionately In
love. But at times, when he left, the close
observer might note cruel glitter in the
dllatlng eye, fierce compression of the hip,
that augured any other sentiment than love.
But If this emotion, seen for an instant
was indicative of hate, it was strangely be-
lied at her next reception.
Rumor had it they would marry. The
Cuban, deaf to all other solicitations, it was
said, yielded her heart to the young creole.
So the winter passed, and the balmy spring
and the flowers were near. OF evenings
they were seen strolling along the avenues,
enjoying the murmur of the leaves, and the
perfume from lawns blooming with roses,
and whispering of the wedding day. One
evening he returned fIom one of their inter-
views strangely affected. A dull, chilly
torpor had been creeping over him for
months. Whenever he had been in the
presence of the Cuban, he left it with q
dswer or bouquet, and the TRANCE languor
doubly increased. But this evening 1t had
grown intense, and faintness like death
came over him.
That night he died! The strong man
died in agony. Every muscle and nerve
thrilled with anguish. The brain felt like
ire, and burning Goals seemed to scorch
and wither mind and sense. And when his
reason fled under the torture of the strange
disease. he rayed of fair young girl he
had ruined years before-a young Cuban
girl who loved him-forgot her faith and
all the wealth of virtue for love of him.
He raved of her, the betrayed; but said no
word of the stranger to whom soul and
heart were given. And even a rumor went
out into the city that he had been poisoned.
Mr. = and myself were sent for to in
vestgate the case. 1t was curious one.
and full of many mysteries.
Nothing was hid from US. His family
submitted everything to our inspection.
correspondence of many years-every
event connected with his life was hunted
up.
One day fell on bundle of old letters.
learned the story of the young girl of whom
he raved. The last letter was written BY
another hand, and sail that she had died.
1t was sister who wrote, and q vague
threat in her letter promised retribuIion.
Somehow the thought occurred to me that
the Cuban beauty, then in the city, wrote
this letter. The more thought of it the
deeper the impression grew. Some way I
possessed myself of some of her writing,
1t was the same. Allowing her the lapse Of
time, one could readily detect the fact that
both were written by the same person.
Here was clew. 1t did not require much
sagacity to discover the agent by whom his
death was procured now. But there was
another essential-I had no proof. To .
detective my conclusions were sufficient,
but a jury could not con-
meet the links had traced without othe
evidence. And besides, I had grown
stranely 10th to prosecute the case. The
girl was right, l thought. She had used a
subtle weapon for revenge, but could her
weak hands have used different one? He
had brought ruin and death on one she
loved, she had brought ruin and death on
him. Months slipped away in this useless
struggle, and the criminal had left for her
home. The summer came and went, and
watched eagerly for her return. But she
never came. One day instead, the mail
brought me q package of letters postmarked
Havana" They were his letters-written
10 the young lady that died. One othe
accompanied them. traced in character
more familiar te me. It contained simple
sentence: aLife for hfe." That was
all.
never heard Of her again. Perhaps she
is living yet; but the crown Of her girlhood't
beauty was stained with blood. But it il
not for me to blame her-nor you. Those
who have felt her provocations alone MAY
Judge.