The copper country evening news. [volume] (Calumet, Mich.) 18??-1907, 1898-02-28

They pointed out to each other the
gas flaming from the jets fashioned in
the form of broken shin bone.
"A little patience. my friends" said
sort Of manager, who was dressed in
deep mourning. Before long we will
adjourn TO the cave of DEATH"
The drinkers in white cravats shout.
ed. Bernardet experienced, ON the con-
trary, what Nine. Bernardet would have
called creepy" sensation. Seasoned
as he was to the bloody and villainous
aspect Of crime, he felt the instructive
shrinking of healthy and level headed
bourgeois against these drolleries of the
brain diseased upper class and the pleas,
antries of the blase decadents.
AT certain moment and after an ex-
PLANTATION given by the manager the gas
was turned off, and the lovers in the
| gondolas, the guitar players, the sing
ers of Spanish songs, the dancers infat-
uated with the Moulin Rouge, changed
suddenly in sinister fashion. In place
of the blond heads and rosy cheeks
skulls suddenly appeared. The smiles
became grins which showed the teeth
Al IScAlAtoo Bulllc. InO JULIUS,
clothed in doublets, in velvets and sat
ins, moment ago. were made by some
interior illumination to change into
hideous skeletons. In his mocking tones
the manager explained and commented
on the metamorphosis, adding to the
funeral spectacle the pleasantly of u
buffoon.
"See, diseased Parisians, what you
will be ON Sundayr"
The light went out suddenly; the
skeletons disappeared; the signing low
ers i'll the gondolas ON the lagoons of
Venice reappeared the Andalusian
sweethearts again gazed into each 9TH
er's eyes and sang their love songs.
Some of the women laughed, but the
laughs sounded constrained.
"Droll, this city of Paris" Bernardet
thought. He sat there, leaning back
against the wall, where verses about
death were printed among the white
tears-as in those lodges of Freemasons
where an outsider is shut up in order
to give him time to make his will
when the door opened and Bernardet
saw tall young man Of stalwart and
resolute mien enter. A black, curly
beard surrounded his pale face. AS he
entered he cast quick glance around
the hall, the air of which was rather
thick with cigar smoke. He seemed to
be about 80 years of age, and had the
air of an artist, sculptor, or a painter
together with something military in his
carriage. But what suddenly struck
Bernardet was his hat, large, gray,
felt hat, with a very wide brim, like
the sombreros which the bullfighters
wear.
Possibly, a few people passing through
Paris might be found wearing such
hats. But they would probably be rare,
and in order to find the seller of Jacques
Dantin's portrait Bernardet had only
this one clew.
"Oh, such mean, little, weak clew
But one must use it, just the same!"
Bernardet had said.
What If this young man with the
strange hat was, by chance, the I'M
known for whom he was searching? 1t
was not at all probable. No, when one
thought of it-not at all probable. But
truth is sometimes made up of improba-
bilities, and Bernardet again experience
ed the same shock, the instructive feel
ing that he had struck the trail which
he felt when the young man. entered the
wineshop.
THAT hail" murmured Bernardet,
slipping his wine and stealing chances
over the rim of his glass at the young
man. The unknown seemed to play di-
rectly into the police officers hand.
After standing by the door few mo-
ments and looking about the place he
walked over and seated himself at the
coffin shaped table at which Bernardet
was seated, bringing himself face to
face with the officer. One of the wait
ers in his mourning dress came to take
his order and lighted another candle,
which he placed where its rays fell di-
rectly on the young mans face. Thus
Bernardet was able to study him at his
ease. The pale face, with its expression,
uneasy and slightly intense, struck Ber-
nardet at once. That white face, with
its black beard, with its cleaning eyes,
was not to be passed by with casual
glance. The waiter placed glass of
brandy before him; he placed his ell
bows on the table and leaned his chin
upon his hands. He was evidently not
habitue of the place nor resident of
the quarter. There was something for
eign about his appearance His glance
was steady, as that of one who searches
the horizon, looks at running water,
contemplates the sea, asking for some
"good luck' of the unknown.
1T would be strange" thought Ber-
nardet, "if simple hat and no other
clew should put us upon the track Of
the man for whom we are searching"
At once, with the ingenuity of mas.
Ter Of dramatic art, the agent began to
plot and to put into action what law
yers, pleading and turning and twisting
cause this way and that, call an eff
feet. He waited until the manager in
formed them that they were about to
pass into the cave of death and gave