The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-08-27
TALE OF CRIME.


bows on his desk, his head on his hands.
He was musing.
"And was it going to last, this, which
had been going on for so long awhileP
And these assassins, were they going to
end by beating him? Were they going
to compel him by adverse public opin-
ion to send i'll his resignation?
"Parbleu! 1t looked so, and as if they
did it on purpose, passing the word from
one to another to force him to get out of
their way. Eight assassinations, one
after another! Crimes of the worst cali
Der, with startling details, which peopled
alike with horrifying visions the sleep
of the bureaucrat and tho concierge.
And not an assassin, for all their skillful
work, had they been able to lay their
hands upon. They had fled, every man
OF them. They had disappeared, van
lshed-piff, like n puff of air. CELEBRITY,
dispatch, their motto, and to go without
leaving an address behind them! Frank
ly, it had begun to pass the bounds OF
all reason.
"And now to top off these eight other
crimes there was still another, a ninth
one-a murder like the others, accom-.
plished tho evening before under similar
conditions"
The chef de surete pulled himself to-
gether, threw back his head like a war
horse shifting battle, and-the door
opened.
1t was his secretary who presented
himself. bearing a card in his fingers
"A gentleman, monsieur, who insists
upon seeing you. He Declares" and the
secretary smiled a little at the absurdity
of the idea-"he declares himself in n
position to furnish you with definite par
ticulars regarding the crime of yester-
day."
"Ah, the crime of ycsterdayr The
chief turned quickly. Then bid him
enter" said he, and while the secretary
regained the anteroom to do his bidding
M. Theodore cast his eye upon the card
before him.
Frederick Bouscal, he read in half
voice. "Bouscal, Bouscal. 1t seems to
me that l know that name-that I've
heard it somewhere"
He scrawled a line upon scrap of pa
per and handed it to the secretary, who
returned it, at the moment ushering in
the visitor who had asked to see him.
dismissed him with a word and was
ready for the matter in hand
M. Theodore raised his eyes. Before
him was man simply but neatly cloth
ed, and with frank and honest counte-
nance, though yelled as by II cloud with
sadness.
"You have particulars to give me, have
you not?' questioned the chef de surete.
Particulars of the crime of yesterday"
Il hope so, monsieur" simply respond
ed the visitor.
"Ah. hope SOL You are not sure, them"
ut rests with you, NJ. le Chef, whether
l am or not. All depends, i'll fact, upon
an operation, the means of which You
alone are able to furnish me-
Explain, if you please"
Certainly, and at once, though doubt
less you have heard it spoken of, NJ. le
Chef-a certain scientific procedure
which permits, under certain conditions
better even than description can do it, Il
reproduction of the portrait of an assus-
sin. Briefly, behold my meaning. Yon
know, of course" he continued ''that
in the phenomenon called vision the OBJ
Ject which we see throws, or forms, upon
q screen in the eyeball itself-in plain
words, upon the retina of the eye-an
image which remains there until dis
played by another. 1t has been proved
also that this image continues even after
DEATH"
The door of the cabinet opened anew,
and the secretary of NJ. Theodore re-en-
tered, holding in his hand roll of pa
pers, which he laid before his chief, then
turned and was gone again as quickly as
he had come. NJ. Theodore lifted it up
and ran his eye over the contents.
"You are named Frederick Bouscal.
are you not, monsieur he demanded
presently, addressing his visitor.
yes, M. le Chef, Frederick Bous-
cal"-
Your age?"
"Fifty-eight years, NJ. lie Chef"
"Hum-m-m" NJ. Theodore rapidly
twirled the sheets beside him. Twenty
seven years." he murmured, as if think
ing aloud. $50 it was you then who
was imprisoned two years ago and con-
demned for contumacy and the theft of
1000 horins!'
A sudden flush empurpled the conn
tenance Of the visitor
mo. monsieur" he responded, with an
effort, in dull voice. mo, it was not 1
it was-my SON.
AN employee of the Credit Agricole.
was he not? And-you are ignorant of
what has become of him."
Absolutely 1t is Is months that his
mother and have been without news of
him."
Pardon me, monsieur" said the chef
de surete. 81 have reopened painful
wound, but listen to you-you were
| saying"-