The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1897-07-10
) The COUNT DE LONE.
BY SYDNEY REID.

Nv IOy SdIO lhc "dIuCu, "OIlcu
are strange creatures. 1 could
tell you many queer things hat hap
pened through them right in this old
prison. You never heard of the duchess
who came every day to bring flowers to
Siechi, the Polish murderer? She would
sit and cry an hour with him each time.
He was a little, dark man, with a little
goat face and goat beard. He used to
spend an hour before the glass getting
ready for the duchess. Why did she
come? Oh, sympathy gone mad. Did
you never see an engaged young couple
lavishing maudlin sympathy on each
other. Well, there are women who are
in that state of mind all their lives. 1t
is necessary for them to have hyster-
les once a day, and they go to see a per-
sol who is or ought to be, suffering,
to crafty their craving for emotional
intoXication.
But it was not about the duchess 1
was going to tell you, though; but about
a young woman who sat in that very
chair where you are sitting now one
afternoon not more than ten years ago.
She was a handsome and very digni-
fed young woman, and she told as Cos
pei truth the oldest story l ever heard.
when she first entered she had asked
me if 1 knew that 1 had under my care
Count De LONE, a peer of France. 1
looked at her a few minutes, but she
was earnest and calm. 1 replied that
l was not aware that we had any such
distinguished guest.
THAT is his sensitiveness and mod
'esty,' she exclaimed. He would rather
die than expose his family
"'What is his offense??'
"rHe is charged with burglary, but
it is all a dreadful, dreadful mistake, of
which only he and 1 know the eNplana-
ton
describe his appearance
"rHe is of medium height, has very
dark, curling hair, BACK eyes and heavy
black mustacRe.'
"I knew the man at once as Hand
some Charley who had come to New
York from Chicago, leaving a streak of
crime stretching out behind him like
the tail of a comet. 1 told the young
woman that 1 knew the a
81 am afraid that you are prejudiced
against him. she caid; but, oh, War
den, if you could only hear his story
as 1 have heard it, your sympathy
would go out to him as the most unfor-
tunate of men. 1t is impossible for
anyone to look in his eyes and disbelieve
him.
"'Yes?' 1 asked, and then, after a
pause, May 1 inquire what is your
name, madam, and why you are so in
terested in the prisoner"
THE name she gave me was that
borne by one of the oldest and wealth
lest families in the state. 4 am a wom-
an of property she said, living in Tar
rytown. 1 am interested in this poor
young man, because l know his sad
story; how he has been victimized;
how he has struggled and how an ire
.sistible power has dragged him down.
"sDo you know that he was caught in
the very commission of this last crime?'
az know that so appeared
"sBut the circumstantial evidence
was positive. He was caught i'll the
diuing-room of a mansion in Madison
avenue with a heap of plumber about
him and a bag into which he was put
ting it,
".That is the saddest part of his
trials. Even to fair, unbiased minds
he must always appear guilty. 1 my
self thought him guilty when 1 first
looked upon him two years ago in the
kitchen of my own house, where the
coachman and butler who had captured
him were holding him down. 1 had
been awakened by q terrible commo-
tion and had fastened downstairs to
find my servants holding the stranger,
who, they said, was a burglar. Every
thing seemed to indicate that their con-
clusion was correct. A window had
been forced, and the stranger had be-
fore him a bag filed with plate and
iewelry gathered from all over the
house. When he saw me he immediate
~ spoke:
Madam he said, 4 appeal to you
not to decide too hastily. 1 am a gen.
tleman and not a robber, but am the
victim Of the strangest and most cruel
fatality that ever prosecuted a mortal.
Could I but engage your kind attention |