Milford chronicle., 1889-07-19
THE SECRET OUT.

Jorlette viii be on board the 7.sO mail train.
Follow him to Liverpool WIN meet you there.
Look sharp CATHcART.
This was the wording Of the telegram re-
ceived one wet, ugly night last December.
was sitting in my little snuggery back Of my
Office, before blazing CRATE, with my feet in
slippers and my body in a warm dressing
room had mug Of hot punch and a cold
mince pie on the table before me, along with
an uncut novel and genuine Havana, with
which intended to regale myself presently.
And although had a very strong anxiety to
secure Jorlette, it must be confessed that /
was altogether too comfortably situated to
relish going out into the cold that dismally
dirty night
This telegram was from my chief, who, l
might as well say, was detective, and had
followed that thankless and precarious bust
ness for several years. People considered me
very successful in working up difficult cases.
but was never quhe satisfied with myself
wonder if any man ever isl
This same Jorlette had given US a great
deal Of trouble. We had never had so heenly
cunning spirit to cope with. Strategy was
matched with strategy, diplomacy with diplo-
macy; and scoreso times, when We were sure
of him, he had slipped from under our fingers
Alkb u ilel anu AtAN Us uOM ut illhiA-
aged it.
Perhaps it would be well to explain that
Pierre Jorlette was a murderer, upon whoss
head was set a price of $4,000 by Che crown.
A Frenchman and nobleman by birth, gem
teman by education. he had when very
young married a beautiful English girl, with
whom he passed two years Of unalloyed hap
pineSs. At the end Of that time some fearful
shadow came between them-none knew of
what nature-and the inhuman husband
stabbed his wife to the heartl Her confiden-
tial maid witnessed the deed and attempted
to save the life Of her mistress, but Jorlette
fell upon her with savage ferOcity and left
the two corpses lying together side by side.
These are the facts as briefly as 1 can state
them to you. OF course there were many
minor circumstances not worth recording, as
they have little bearing upon the short story
am writing.
1t seemed from this telegram that Jorlette
was to be on the 80 train. wondered how
Cathcart had got his information, but he had
armies of spies constantly working for him,
and probably some Of them had made the
discovery.
had only to follow instructions.
For the hundredth time l took Jorlette's
photograph from my pocketbook and exam
Ale4 Alt AedNuIts VI lut lluIutlEAs IL WIS a
singularly handsome face that saw-clearly
cut, with large hazel eyes shaded by long,
dark lashes, a mouth delicate and sensitive
as woman's, high, rather narrow fore
head half hidden in clustering eurls Of au-
burn'hair, a form rather spare, yet well knit,
and a hand symmetrical and rounded as a
woman'S
The picture would have answered splendidly
for that of a sentimental, sonnet making
poet-but for a murderer it was a dead fail
ure. Nevertheless, somewhere in the past,
before crime had scathed him, Jorlette had
sat for it.
/ changed my slippers for boots and got
myself inside my fur overcOat, stuffed
vaBse with brown paper and backing brushes,
that / might appear respectable traveller,
and, looking at my watch, found l had just
time to reach the station.
The train stopped ten minutes for refresh
ments, and, taking the guard, who was an
old friend Of mine, sufficiently into my conf
dence, was given an opportunity of looking
through the carriages previous TO the START
ing Of the train.
1t was full train, but, singularly enough.
there was not a red headed man on board of
It Jorlette was red headed, and; aside from
that circumstance, he had face which fat
Vel oA iAAl e1AA NpAAu lAob ANtAiAAAg AAAAoAahos
As l stood irresolute, and feeling very much
as if l had been fooled, there came toward
me from the dining room an individual, tall
and spare, with a slouched hat, white era
vat, huge piece Of game pie in his hand
and this person had red hairl And dark
eyesl
! watched him closely. There was a GER
tain dogged, skullking look about him; he
would not meet my eyes, and he walked off
TO the extreme end Of the platform by him
self, and remained there munching his pie
until the last bell rang; and then he hurried
on board with the air Of one who felt that a
great deal depended on his getting a seat
/ was convinced that he was my man,
though he was not altogether like the photo
graph. Still, faces and photographs differ a
great deal, since to the picture there Is little
expression and no expressiOn--and do not
the characteristics Of a face depend more on
color and expression than a mere outline Of
featured
He entered carriage No. III, and at hint
the guard put me In the same van. There
were three persons already there beside my
pie eating friend and myself An elderly
gentleman, who was reading The Times
wrong side up, and nodding blandly over its
fascinating columns; a pair of rural lovers,
cussing peppermint drops together; and
presently we were REINFORCED by an old lady
In a very prime bonnet with brown ribbons.
and bearing luggage in the shape Of bird
cage, basket with cat in it, an umbrella
and a very large carpet sack.
Jorlette had produced another section Of
pie, and was demolishing it vigorously.
Seemingly he enjoyed it. Well, l suppose
even a murderer may enjoy eating pie.
Just as the train began TO move the door
opened and young lady came hesitatingly |
forward You know what helpless creatures |
women are on their feet in bouncing, sway |
ing railway car, and this young beauty was
no exception. She tottered, and would have
fallen, but put out my arm and caught her,
at the same time Offering her the unoccupied
seat at my side.
She blushed rosily, thank me in the sweet |
est voice had ever heard and sank down on |
the cushions, covering my knees with pillows
Of rufiiing and fringing, making me feel
well, not many removes from the gates Of
Paradise