The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1893-01-05

right eye, bending over the works of a.
watch. Certainly he was not looking
at anything that was going on outside
OF his shop; yet he saw, very plainly
observed the approaching group, and
something very much like a smile
might have been seen to play about his
lips as he did so. He hoped for
customer, and to poor tradcsman that
must always be pleasant feeling, must
it not? Oh, doubtless But of all pos
sible customers Lierret hoped for one,
and that one was now at the door.
| LOcard entered.
| us that it?" he said, contempt
uously.
Lierret rose politely. Locard turned
his back upon it-fron pride evidp 1tly
In short, he Immediately agreed to
| give el00, and threw down G5 note on
account, on condition that the clock
should be that same evening installed
/ in his dining-room at his house.
This evening, friends" cried Locard,
well drink to my new piece of furni-
ture."
| 'At what hour?''
| Nine o'clock.
AS soon as Lierret found himself
| quite alone, he burned the bank note
in the flame of a candle. Then he went
into the room behind the shop and took
up a small box, on which there were
| pasted New York labels Returning,
he opened the case of the clock, no
doubt to regulate the movement.
placed amid the rich furniture of
Locard's dining-room.
| Around the table, from which, point
upward, goodly array of bottles
stand, Locard and his old friends drink,
| laugh and sing.
Eleven o'clock. the silver bell re-
cords the hour. What a voice-a
song, rather! One could listen to it
through the whole night. Midnight
the voice puts forth all it's delightful
power.
Attention! One, two! Light the
punch. The flame fits, goblin like,
over the surface of the bowl, tapping it
with upthrown tongues of yellow and
| blue. The sugar frizzles. Now put
out the lamp. Huzzah! Hush the
clock is going to strike.
| No, it speaks.
jacques Locard! Jacques Locard!'
"Eh! Who spoke! Who said that?"
Jacques Locard! Confess, confess.'
"Locard! Locard! What jest is this?
How very pale you are!''
The voice sounds as if it came from
| the cellar.
jacques Locard, you are a murder
| er!''
1T is false! Who has dared to say
that?''
Jacques Locard, it is you who killed
old Lierret! Assassin"
There are cries, groans. Locard has
risen to his feet-lost. mad. He clutches
| at his cravat to tear it from his strang-
ling throat. The voice still pitilessly
| continues-veiled, distant, as if coming
from the tomb. 1t repeats the word
''assassin.''
Locard falls upon his knees, rises and
falls again.
81 confess! confess!'' he cries. Eyes,
it was l who killed the old man, and
robbed him; but let that horrible voice
cease
1t did not stop, but went on repeating
its dreadful denunciations with the per-
sistency of a machine in motion.
''It is the clock that speaks!'
screamed Locard, seizing it, shaking it,
dragging it from it's place, casting it
upon the floor. The works were scat
tered, and in their midst was seen a
small cylinder covered with metallic
paper.
Lierret, VINO had heard all, sprang
into the room through the open window
and seized Locard by the throat.
You are all witnesses that this man
is the murderer of my fatherr' he
cried.
Murder will out; but men who take
the lives of their fellow men for gain
always think their cunning more than
a match for proverbial wisdom. So
thought Locard, and had not seven
years impunity justified his estimate
of his own cleverness? No; it had only
put him off the guard which the muir
derer must never for moment cease
to keep. The police had utterly failed
to track him down-had not even as
sociated him in any way with the
crime; yet there had been a detective
at his heels, as he now saw with hor-
ror.
A few years in the army do one of
two things-sharpen or deaden the
wits Of a soldier; they sharpened Lier-
ret's. The failure of the police left in
his mind Il deep and bitter disappoint-
ment. His father had been cruelty
murdered and robbed, almost in the
light of day-a kindly but undemon-
stratiye man ,;eSraats.i- .,uu,runvA