The copper country evening news. [volume] (Calumet, Mich.) 18??-1907, 1898-02-25

man was probably one OF the rasca
who prowl about day and night, Twin
ON adventures, and without any home
sleeping under bridges or in one of til
novels ON the outskirts OF the Rue d
Venise, where vice, distress and Grim
fiourished.
Bernardet first questioned the owne
of the stolen property, obtained all tn
information which he could about tn
suspected man, and, with his keel
scent for criminal aroused, he glance,
at anything-men, things, objects tina
would have escaped less practiced eye
He was walking slowly along towar,
the Permanence, looking keenly at tn,
passersby, the articles in the shops, tn,
various movements in the streets, Il
see if he could get hint upon which t.
work.
1t was his habit to thus make use OF
his walks. In promenade he had more
than once met client, past or future.
The boys fled before his piercing eyes,
before this fat, jolly little man with
the hooking smile which showed un-
der his red mustache. This fright which
he inspired made him laugh inwardly.
He knew that he was respected, that he
was feared. Among all these passersby
who jostled him without knowing that
he was watching them he was a pow
er, an unknown but sovereign power.
He walked along with short, quick steps
aai watchful eyes, very much preoccu-
pied with this affair, thinking of the
worthless person for whom he was seek
| ing, but he stopped occasionally to look
Mt the wares spread out in some bric.a-
brac shop or in some bookstore window.
This also was his habit and his method.
He ran his eye over the illustrated pa
pers lying in row in front, over the
socialistic placards, the songbooks. He
kept himself au courant with every
thing which was thought, seen, pro.
claimed and sung.
"When one governs" thought Ber-
nardet, Zone ought to have the habit Of
going afoot in the street. One can learn
nothing from the depths of a coupe
driven by a coachman wearing tricol-
ored cockade." He was going to the
prefecture, the Permanence when in
the Rue DIES Bons- Enfants he was in
stinctively attracted to shop window
where rusty old arms, tattered uniforms,
worn shakos, garments without value,
smoky pictures, yellowed engravings and
chance ornaments, rare old copies of
books, old romances, ancient books
with eaten bindings, mass of dissim-
liar Objects-lost keys, belt buckles,
abolished medals, battered sous-were
mixed together in an oblong space as in
a sort of trough.
On either side Of this shop window
hung some soiled uniforms, zouave's
vest, an academician' S old habit, lugu-
brious with its embroideries of green, a
soiled costume which had been worn by
some Pierrot at the carnival. 1t was,
III all its sad irony, the vulgar "hand
me down that" which makes one think
OF that other morgue where the cloth
ing has been rejected by the living or
abandoned by the dead.
Bernardet was neither Of a melan-
choly temperament nor a dreamer, and
he did not give much time to the tear
full side of the question, but he was pos
sessed of ravenous curiosity, and the
sight, however frequent, of that shop
window always attracted him. With,
moreover, that sort of magnetism which |
the searchers, great or small, intuitive-
ly feel-a collector Of knickknacks,
discoveries of unknown countries, book |
worms bent over the volumes at sous |
apiece, or chemists crouched over a re-
tort-Bernardet had been suddenly at |
tracted by portrait, exposed as an OBJ |
ject rarer than the others, in the midst |
of this detritus of abandoned luxury or I
of past military glory.
Yes, among the tobacco boxes, the |
belt buckle, the Turkish poniard, |
watches with broken cases, common
place japanese ornaments, painting,
oval in form, lay there-a sort of large |
without frame, and at first
sight, by singular attraction, it drew
and held the attention of the police
officer.
"Ah!" said Bernardet out loud, "but
this is singular.
He leaned forward until his nose
touched the cold glass and peered fixed
ly at the picture. This painting, as
large as ones hand, was the portrait of
a man, and Bernardet fully believed at
the first look he recognized the person
whom the painter had reproduced.
AS his shadow fell across the window
Bernardet could not distinctly see the
painting, for it was not directly in the
front line of articles displayed, and he
stepped to one side to see if he could get
a better view. Assuredly, there could
be no doubt, the oval painting was GER
tainly the portrait Of Jacques Dantin,
now accused of crime. There was the
same high forehead, the pointed beard,
Of the same color the black redingote,
tightly buttoned up and edged at the
neck with the narrow line of white
linen collar, giving, in resembling a
doublet, to this painting, the air of
trooper, Of a swordsman, Of Guisard
a partisan of the Duke Of Guise), of
The time of Clouet.
Something Of connoisseur in paint