The Columbus journal., 1889-02-20

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-.1lnni': cElsa . oompanin presently,
hsilg pslfsnce. ''eas would think ycu
veso sftui1 a going 70 PieErets slsopr
.Affnid2 zoundsi it's little I care for
Picnek Come at once; I'm ready.
Tho little clookmakcr was sitting at
his table, hi Im in his eye, busy with .
watch that he delicately touched with
his pointed steel He did not look up
nor into tho stTeet-no, indeed, not he;
I'll the same be saw distinctly the ap-
proaching group and saw il with salts
faction, for something like smile fitted
acsuo his lips He hoped to make the
sale. and e e always agreeable to make
money. q you know. Jocard entered.
sis that it.? said he disdainfully. True,
b was not saying what he thought. for
b was really delighted. though be must
never show the would be cheated
Pierret Ind risen politely, but Jocard's
hack was towards through haugh-
tiness, Of course.
Briefly be. Jocard. would give ESQ
francs for it Immediately. cash down,
and yet upon q condition, namely. that
1.-the Comtoisse should be placed that
very night upon his dining room wall
he knew the house-the big house oppo-
sise the church"
Every one knows tho Jocard house" :"
replied Picrret; "witi,in an hour the
Cnrntoisco shall ha th0rp"
''And tonight, friends" continued Jo-
card, not including Pierret. Of course.
''we'll have q bowl Of white wine, first
quality, and well drink to the Comtoise. :"
'.Al right-what houry' "Nine."
Jocard threw hundred franc note on
tho counter to bind the bargain and left
tho shop. followed by his friends.
Again alone Pierret struck q match
and carefully burned the note to ashes.
This strange act completed, he brought
from the rear of the shop small box on
which something was written in English.
and going to the Comtoise he opened the
case to fix the pendulum, doubtless.
II is in its place, well set in its polished
box. The pendulum swings with slow,
soft tick-tack. Truly 1t has splendid
effect between the shining platters and
the pink tinted engravings.
Round the table, covered with long
necked bottles, all sit drinking, laughing
and singing. Beveley, the big ser, ant
girl, is convulsed with glee. All, but the
house won't be SO gay when the new
madame arrives! No matter: an end
must come some time; besides, when a
man has means, as monsieur has, he may
well afford the luxury Of having wife
all to himself!
Eleven O'Clock! The Comtoise strike
it. Everybody is silent. Jocard happy.
What q voice! Like q song-one could
listen to it all night long. Faith, they
shall wait until midnight, when the
clock strikes its full No more wine;
punch shall take its place, and well
light it and put out tho lamps Such
fun as they'll have when IL O'Clock
chimes with the cooing Of the Comtoise!
They are half drunk already-heat is
suffocating-open the window for airl
Besides, It's well that every one should
know that at Jocard's house they never
worry!
Attention, friendsi Five minutes to
12i One-two-light the punch! The
fame springs from the saladier; the
spoon plays in the food that flashes and
leaps in yellow and blue tongues; the
sugar bubbles. Put out the lamp, boys,
put out the lamp! The congested faces
toko ~, q ns,,v,lo I,,o
Zounds! but 'tis fun! Hist! Silence!
tho Comtoise soundsi
Sounds, did say7 that beautiful Com
toisei No. it speaks-its calls aloud
upon the name Of its purchaser.
Jacques Jocardl Jacques Jocardl ]
sayr'
"Heyi Who calls him? Whose that
oldish. cracked voice? Whence does Il
conner The CELLAR The voice answers
with another wall
Jacques Jocardi Jacques Jocard!
Confess, confess, sayy
Contest Bahi What nonsense OF
what farce is thisa And who is this
talking. Jocard2 Why do you pale 50,
man2 And what is the voice saying
nowT
''Confess, Jocard! Thou art q mur-
derer. Jocard! Confess, confess, l say!'
"a murderer? No, It's false! Who
says it? He ies-I swear it,"
"a murderer, Jocard. q murderer who
killed the old Picrret-a murderer, and
you know i'll"
Then there were cries, hiccoughs and
groans Of terror. Jocard leaps to his
feet, his eyes staring, his hands tearing
wildly at the collar that seems to stop
his breathing. But tho voice continues
mercilessly, still cracked, still broken,
still far away, as If it came from tomb,
repeating and repeating obstinately the
hideous charge.
''Thou art q murderer, Jocard, muir
derer, and you know it!"
Jccard sinks to his knees, struggles to
his feet again, TO fall anew. Tho voice
goes On and on remorselessly. He can
bear it no loager-he throws.up his arms
he yields to the Inviiblei
81 will, i will!" he screams, 81 win con-
fe@-I did kin the old Pierret! I did
rob him Of his money! But for Gods
sake stop it-that cClrsed voice-stop
iti stop it!''
Stop it! But it will not stop-it is like
q machine that runs forever, and it
comes from the Comtoise. Jocard dis
covers it at last, and with q howl Of rage
f'ings himself upon it. He strains it in
his arms, shakes it, dashes it to the 6oorl
The works tumble from the case, and
with them long roll covered with metal
sheathing.
Pierret, listening at the open window.
crosses the sill with q bound; his fingers
close upon Jocard's throat with q grasp
Of iron.
"Do you hear him." he cries. "Do
you hear him. one and alp call upon
you to witness itJocard confesscs-he
is my fathers murderer
And how had Pierret learned or guessed