The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1882-08-09

lnS lOrCt. ne Soul anu power vi II
great artist had temporarily passed
into me, and my poor hands and
eyes were but the means through
which another was working.
The hours flew rapidly by, but |
labored unintermittingly. The fig
ure grew upon the canvass and be-
gan to look hfe-like in its deathlike
fidelity. AT last my aching hands
and arms compelled me to rest. |
looked everywhere for some mark or
sign by which | could discover in
whose house | was. Not the faintest
clue rewarded my search-nothing
bearinga name, initial or monogram
was to be found. Everything was
OF the most costly and luxurious de-
scription. Money had been lavish
( ly spent in every direction. The
coffin was almost work of art; its
chaste handles and bars were of sill
yer and gold, but the name plate
had not been attached. | noticed
every detail with great minuteness,
because / determined that the ma
ker of so unusually splendid cof-
fin could easily be found, and that
through him was the clearest and
easiest way of bringing to justice
the perpetrators of this foul crime.
Then | went back to my painting
and again the fever of inspired work
seized me. was scarcely sensible
of the lapse OF time till the clock
upon the mantel-piece warned me
that it was already five. After con-
siderable trouble | managed to pack
my sketch in way that would cover
it without injuring the moist colors.
collected my brushes and tubes,
tied .he handkerchief over my eyes
and rang the bell. Almost immedi-
ately heard the door unlocked and
the sad voice whose tones had be-
come so thoroughly impressed on
my memory asked:
How have you succeeded"
Well
Il am very glad. will now take
you to your studio. Come with
me-"
He led me through the passage,
down the staircase and to the car
riage. When | had seated myself
he took his place by my side. The
horses were urged to very rapid
pace, 30 fast, indeed, that | wonder
ed the police did not interfere. My
companion did not utter word.
When the carriage stopped he help
ed me to descend, took me as far as
the first staircase and said:
when you reach the next land
ing you can uncover your eyes. |
shall send for the picture in twelve
days. Remember your promise;
keep faith with me and you may Sc
cure a more powerful friend than
you imagine Good day"
l heard him pass away. The
temptation to follow and instantly
denounce him was almost irresisti,
ble. But sober second thought came
TO my aid. | reflected that he had
at least one and probably two con-
iederates in the carriage. and that at
so early an hour It was unlikely |
should find any one to render me
efficient assistance. | passed up
stairs and took off the handkerchief.
When | was once safe in nv own
room | was torn by distracting
doubts as to what | ought to do. If
| held my tongue | should make
two thousand francs certain. and
possibly more IN the future. Could
| afford to throw away this wonder
ful opportunity? Moreover this was
the course which had the great
recommendation of safety. If |
should inform the police | might
very possibly be regarded as a mad
man, or if my story was believed
and the murderer or murderers
traced | should undoubtedly incur
the vengeance Of rich and powerful
villains. My solemn promise, too,
bound me to secresy. But then
told myself | was not compelled to
keep that when the doing so would
involve the escape of a murderer.
AT last exhausted nature, which had
been subjected to the most severe
tension for twelve hours, claimed
her rights. | slept, but my dreams
were hideous, The figure of the
dead woman rose ever before my
fancy. She pointed to the dagger
in her breast and seemed TO entreat
me 10 speak, although | heard no
words and could not distinguish any
sound.
1t was again nearly dusk when |
awoke, troubled and unrefreshed,
but with my mind fully made up to
tell the police all | knew. | under
stood the necessity for acting with
all possible dispatch, but was hun
grv and felt that | needed something
to give me strength and confidence
before | undertook to make my ex-
traordinary revelation. After | had
once decided on a plan of action |
felt easier The dread of the ever
haunting presence of the dead wo-
man began to disappear. | went TO
a restaurant | had been in the habit
Of frequenting when richer. Some
|! of that villains thousand francs
should help to give me the strength
to denounce him. This idea pleas
ed me, for it seemed to SAVIOR of ret
ribution. | took up Le S0ir, turned
over the pages carelessly, almost un-
consciously. and was just about to
lay it down when on the last page
my eye caught this heading:
Funeral of the Beautiful Mar
quise de Bienville."
The words startled me, for | had
heard of the beauty of the lady
about whom all male Paris had been
raving for some months. | had
never had an opportunity OF seeing
her. though / had much wished to
do so. | did not know she had been
i'll, and to learn suddenly that she
was dead and buried shocked me
not little read the article with
Observation-Disclosures. 1t stated that
the Marquise had died four days be-
fore of diphtheria after only short
illness, The last part of the article
gave brief description of the lady's
appearance. As read on | became