St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1895-01-30

ciscly above the old heart that had
| throbbed so often with excitement at
the gaming table
We all uncovered. Then Funker
kneit down in the mud, took the ivory
ball. and, exclainling in a low voice,
"Faites vos jeuxv sent it spinning
round The coffin was then lowered.
Everybody bent forward involuntarily,
but it had already disappeared in the
shadow and we could see nothing,
| though we could hear the ball as it
ratified round over the holes of the
roulette.
"Rien ne va plus!" murmured Funk
ner, almost inaudibly.
Then the gravediggers laid the boards
over the grave and we went away in
silence. We must have been thinking
the same thing, for, when at last L re-
marked: 81 wonder what number it
stopped at?' Lord Croydon started, and
Funker and Burchard, who were walk
ing just in front of us, looked back.
eff anybody knew it he would make
a fortune I'll be bound,' 1 continued.
Yes said Lord Croydon, "espe-
cially as he was in luck when he died.
However, it is the dead mans secret;
let him keep it."
A few minutes later 1 left my COM
panion.
The next morning, on waking me, the
waiter at the hotel said:
you haven't heard the news, sir.
At daybreak this morning M. Funker
was discovered lying on the Corniche
road with bullet in his brain"
A crime? A suicide? Nobody knew.
The police were investigating, the
doctors were diputing over the body,
all the town was in an uproar.
AS soon as I had dressed [ went down
stairs. l learned that my other COM
panions had left the previous evening,
Lord Croydon for Monte Carlo, Bur
! chard for Mention.
The mysterious affair was naturally
the sole topic of discussion, and when
| paid my bill expressed my regret to
the proprietor of the hotel that | could
net wait to learn the truth about it.
Mine host, however, was convinced that
the banker had died by his own hand.
you see," he said, IN. Funker was
| a desperate Spectator, and had been
heavily bulling stocks in falling mar
| ket. There was a further drop yes
terday. and we are on the eve of the
settlement
On returning to Paris I never heard
! the matter mentioned, and had forgot
ten all about it, when a few weeks ago
[ had occasion to run down to Monte
Carlo again. One evening at the table
d'hote the conversation turned upon
mysterious crimes, the perpetrators Of
which had never been discovered. EV-
erybody mentioned a case in point. L
at once recalled the death of the Ger
man banker, and remarked:
Its like the Funker case"
'"The Funker case?" exclaimed gen
tleman seated opposite to me. Every
| body knows the details of that affair
'Indeed?" said 1.
yes" he replied; his murderer con-
fessed. But in order to understand it
you must know that a certain Mont
gombert' -
Il know all about him." I inter
rupted. 81 was present at his funeral
'"Fhen you know Burchard"'
"Certainly,''
"Wen, this Burchard fell ill recently,
and when dying at the hospital IN
STUTTGART, confessed that he had en-
tered the cemetery the night of Mont
gombert's interment Funker went
down into the grave with o lantern,
read the number and returned with the
ball. Once out of the cemetery, how
ever, a terrible quarrel arose. Funker
had told his accompliee the number,
but who was to have the ball? In strug-
Cling for it Funker fell, and Burchard
shot him through the head.
THE murder was evidently premedi-
tated, for he had prepared an alibi by
taking the last train from Nice to
Mention But he had got out at the
| first station and returned on foot to
meet his victim.
"After the crime he frequented the
French and German casinoc assiduous-
| ". and, whenever he could get any
money, risked it on the fatal number,
| but-so he affirmed-it never won once.
| Funkar. who descended alone into the
| grave, while Burchard kept watch and
! therefore alone knew the secret, must
have deceived his companion, and given
| him another number. At the mere
| thought of this Burehard used to
| give way to fearful paroXysms OF rage,
| even on his death bed.
His end was atrocious. He thought
| he was gambling, pushed imaginary
| stakes before him, and scooped in his
| imaginary winnings feverishly, howl
| ing as he did so: "Thirty-fve. black,
odd and second halfn Thirty-fve, no
| doubt, was the number the roulette on
! Daddy Montgobert's coffin was sup
| posed to have indicated.
"At last, struggling up, despite the
united efforts Of four keepers to hold
him. and, laughing wildly. he shrieked:
| The bank is broken! I>have broken
the bank!
'"Then he fell back on the bed like a
| log-dead"'