The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1892-01-30
A MISER THE CAUSE.

Mr.. C. d. Barrett, formerly Chief
Inspector of the United States Secret
Service, had a queer experience some
time ago in beautiful little town
way down in Maryland. Mr.. Bar
rett's long experience with this sort
of work has taught him just how to
dig pit for his game, as the
train neared tho village he walked
through the smoker to the mail car,
asked for the mail clerk, showed his
commission and said he had some
thing which he wanted done.
"What is it?" asked the clerk
nervously, eying the Chief Inspec-
tor.
"Where is the mail pouch you
throw off at the next stop?"
1t was produced.
"Open it," -
1t was opened, for an inspector
has absolute authority, not only
over mail clerks, but over the post
masters of the larger cities.
Here is q letter." said Mr.. Barrett,
addressed to James Lancaster,
q fictitious name. The letter con-
tains a $40 bill. WANT you to ex-
anime it, take the address, put it in
that pouch and lock it with your
own hands,
All this was done, and Mr.. Barrett
went back to his seat in one of the
day coaches, confident that the next
move in the game would answer his
expectations.
The Secret Service agent stood
upon the platform of the mail car
when the train stopped and the
pouch was thrown of, when he at
once stepped to the platform. A boy,
whose business it was to carry the
mail, took the pouch over his shoul-
er and started up the village street,
never dreaming that Chief Inspec-
tor of the Postal Service was follow
ing him on the other side of the
street and was watching him like a
hawk, while seeming to watch moth
ing. 1t was a beautiful June day.
the birds were singing, and although
it was high noon the leafy lofty trees
lining the quiet street cast such deep,
cool shadows that Mr.. Barrett did
not find walking unpleasant. For
about a quarter of a mile the boy
kept on, followed by the Inspector,
and then turned into small frame
building, with a white and black sign
over the door labelled "Postoffice."
"Now," said Mr.. Barrett, inward.
ly, my letter has reached it's desti-
nation"
There was a CT ovid of visitors In
side of the little Post-office and out
side who swarmed towards the desk
"to get their mail" and Mr.. Barrett
waited some fifteen minutes until
they had all gone before he entered
the place, and saw a handsome girl,
about seventeen years old, dressed
in an old-fashioned bodice and light
colored skirt, sitting behind the wiro
grating in rocking chair sewing.
els there a letter here for James
lancaster" said the Inspector, and
every one who knows his face and
figure will not wonder that the girl
took him for u well to do country
man.
"No," she said, after sorting some
letters in case marked d."
Wont you look again." and she
did look, but with no better result.
II am sure the letter must have
come" said Mr.. Barrett, and I, who
know him well, can imagine how
gently he said it.
cts not here"
care you the Postmaster"
"No. I am the assistant. My
father is the Postmaster"
"Who opened the pouch that came
DO the last train?"
81 did,"
"No one to help you?"
"No, SIR"
The girls bright eyes looked as
innocently at Mr.. Barrett as any
girls bright eyes ever looked at any
man.
"Maybeit stuck in the pouch. I've
heard of such things" he said.
wont you look?"
She took the pouch, turned it up.
side down, shook it and looked inside.
No letter.
Wont you let me come in and
help you look for it?" said Mr.. Bar.
rett.
mo. No one is allowed in here u
The Chief Inspector drew from his
pocket his commission from the Unit
ed States Government, with It's Off.
I'll - A.. = T. - !