The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1891-10-24

NUN SOhCo-obuiHo anu OIucT ODJcCtlOn-
able reminders OF breakfasts which
have preceded mine, close alongside
my plate in the particular place by
the window he always reserves for ME.
The "Daily Trumpet" was there
that morning as usual. ordered my
breakfast and began to read.
Almost the first thing my eye fell on
was foreign telegram, bearing a Paris
date:
"a horrible murder was committed
early this morning in the Rue de Rever-
| dy. An artist named Guisac is the vic
| tim .Guisac was found in his studio by
the concierge with his throat cut from
ear to ear. Deceased was man ranking
high in the profession. His picture
LA Bernhardt," hung in the last
years salon, brought him prominent
| ly into notice. The murderer is still at
large.
| The paper fell from my hands. !
leaned back in my chair prey to q
variety of the strangest emotions
which ever agitated the human breast.
cannot convey any idea OF the ex-
traordinary impression produced on
my mind by the reading of the para
graph. Ihung around town i'll q morbid
condition for two or three days. At
the end of that time / determined to
start for Paris.
took with me in my mind aphoto-
graph OF the picture which l had fin
ished in my sleep. was profoundly
affected by the whole affair, and sud
nothing to anybody.
The ocean trip somewhat restored
my mental equilibrium. BY the time
| arrived in Paris | had persuaded
myself that had added the two fig
ures to the picture in my waking mo-
ments, and that over application to
my beloved art had brought on q
temporary lapse of memory.
l had even persuaded myself that
my dream and it's confirmation by
cable in the morning paper were mere
coincidence.
Still l was possessed ofan Unsuitable
longing to solve this mystery.
l. l put up ut little hotel off the Rue
D'Antoine, and slept soundly with the
roar OF Paris III my ears.
Next morning l sent for a commits
sionalre. lam very tolerable French
scholar.
"What is your best paper here9"
was my first question.
There are several" was the reply.
"The Gallois is u good journal-as
good as any, in fact"
go and get me the Gallois of date
June IT."
In half an hour it was in rly hands.
| soon found the account OF the MUIR
der. And enormous headline called
attention to it. 1t had been evidently
the sensation of the day. There was
a column and a half OF it, as well as
an editorial consisting largely OF hints
to the police as to how they should
best discover the murderer.
By reading these, found out that
the murder had been committed shortly
after 5 o'clock on the morning, the
body having been found at a little
after 9 by the concierge, when it was
still warm. Roughly estimating the
difference in time between Paris and
Chicago at five and half hours, Mon
sieur Guisac must have met his death
at about the time when dreamed
saw him lying with his throat cut,
upon the hearth-rug
Impelled now, by an irresistible i'm
pulse to sift this mystery to to the very
bottom, / called upon the Project oil
Police, and persuaded him to permit
me to visit the scene of the murder.
told him nothing. To this day he
believes was impelled to it by mere
curiosity. The body of the dead
artist had been removed, OF course.
but nothing in his rooms had been dis
turbed. trembled violently as en-
tered the vestibule, and turned some
what pale.
The officer who accompanied me no.
ticed that was visibly affected.
Monsieur finds it to warm" he
said politely and threw up window.
(Which room was the studio" !
asked, my voice strangely thick and
husky. Instinctively l dreaded to
enter the apartment which had been
the scene of that horrible nightmare,
the influence of which was now begin
ming to reassert itself strangely. My
heart almost ceased beating as the
officer threw back the portiere, and
passing by him l entered the apart
ment.
| A small painting stood upon an
easel near one OF the windows. With
uncertain footsteps, and brain whirl-
ing with the strangest emotions which
every man experienced, l approached
it. There was not quite light enough
to see it distinctly. / drew up the
curtain and let the sunlight stream in
to the darkened chamber.
The next moment had uttered a
loud cry, tottered and fallen helpless
upon my kness, at the foot of the
easel.
There, upon small canvas, was a
/: sketch in oil; colored and drawn with
a master-hand. 1t was study OF
two persons, in the act OF leave-tak-
ing. They stood bodily in the fore
:ground of the picture. A tall, dark,
hpndsome man, the counterpart OF
tie figure in my Chicago picture, with
tue same sad and striking expression
on his face with the brave soul shin
icg through it; woman, the very
reproduction of this conception and
execution OF my sleeping moments,
on whose tender face, the trace OF re-
cent tears was marvellously delineat-
cd, and about whose low white fore
/ IL