Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1885-08-26
A STRANGE TRAGEDY.
The History Of a Shocking Partisan
Murder.
How a Young Man Came Near Suffering the
Death Penalty for the Deed Com
mitted by IA Pet Isaboon.

On the morning of the 4th of August,
1869, Jules Ronceau stood in front of
the little curiosity shop of Mons. Pierre
Labrichon, in the Rue Lafitte, Paris,
and hammered on the closed shutters
for admission.
Pierre Labrichon was one of the
characters of the neighborhood. He
was a little, weazen-faced old man,
with fringe of white hair surrounding
his head, and small black eyes that
beamed with kindly expression upon
his neighbors, and yet showed all the
qualities which indicated shrewd man
of business. He was the owner of a
curiosity shop, wherein was contained
q rare collection of bric-a-brac, an
tiques, old armor and furniture, and
now and then he would gladden. the
heart of some struggling painter from
the Quarter Latin by selling one of his
pictures on commission.
In the rear of the shop. were three
rooms-one used as the Stting-room
and eating-room of the old man, an
other as his sleeping apartment, and
the third, Of smaller dimensions, as the
sleeping apartment of his only clerk,
Jules Ronceau.
The old man was frugal in his tastes,
and there was an air of simplicity in
his dwelling quarters, which, however.
was rendered somewhat grotesque by
the appearance in the corner of the sit
ting-room of quantity ornamented
cage, which contained u pet baboon,
upon which the shopkecper lavished
much attention. He had purchased
the brute from sailor, some time ago,
and expected to find ready sale for
it; but Coco was full of so many tricks,
so many quaint and cunning ways,
that Pierre Labrichon could not bring
himself to part with it, and so Master
Coco remained, the pet of his master
and with the run of the premises after
business hours were over. People
looked upon the old mans pet with no
special favor, but the old man himself
was so kind to every one, so benevo-
lent to the poor, and, withal, so just in
his dealings, that they forgot this one
idiosyncrasy in the general goodness of
the man.
Jules Ronceau. his clerk, was a
young man of about twenty years of
age, strong, handsome and intelligent.
who had been in the employment of
his master for nearly three years, dur
ing which time he had shown himself
willing to work, and, it had always
been supposed, was strictly honest, as
to within the last two months-the
old man had placed almost implicit
trust in him, but within that period re-
garded him with an evident distrust,
which Jules could not comprehend.
On the previous night the young man
had requested permission from his mas
ter to visit his sister, Clairette, and as
her house was in the suburbs, he fur
Their asked that he might be permitted
to remain with her over night, promis-
ing to be at the shop early the follow
ing morning.
So it was that at half-past seven on
that bright, sunny morning of the 4th
of August, 1869, Jules Ronceau stood
hammering on the shutters of the old
curiosity shop, and wondering why the
master did not come to open the door
While he was engaged in this operation
gendarme, friend of his, who
CHANGED to be passing, stopped and
said:
''Hello, Master Jules! 1t seems to
me you have been making a great
racket here for some time. Where is
Monsieur Pierre that he does not an
swerp"
'That is more than I can tell" an
swered Jules. II spent last night with
my sister, and promised to return early
this morning. Now, when / knock,
there is no answer"
''Have you tried the doorP"
mo, Monsieur Pierre would never
be so careless as to leave the door
open"
Nevertheless, suppose we try"
With this the gendarme placed his
hand upon the large knob. IL yielded
to his touch, and the door opened.
The two men looked at each other-the
gendarme with an expression of aston
ishment and Jules with one almost of
terror. Then they entered the shop
together. Every thing was quiet and
undisturbcd.
Passing on, they entered the sitting
room. There were writing materials
upon the table, and IL was evident that
the old man had been writing before he
retired for the night. Then they
knocked upon the door of the sleeping
apartment. No answer. The gen.
darme pushed the door open and was
about to enter when he started back
with an exclamation of horror
The sunlight was streaming through
window at the back and throwing It's
rays directly upon the bed in which
Pierre Labrichon was lying. But how
was he layingp His skull was crushed
in, evidently with the blow of ham,
mer, and his face had been battered out
of all recognition. The white sheets.
always so scrupulously clean, were
drenchcd with blood, and the cold,
dead form lay there, stark, still and
horrible. The only other occupant OF
tlfs rron, voc tho hakooo rc<r -kn