Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1899-02-23

red with blood.
Pradcs, who had come there either to
supplicato or threaten, now had only
one thought, hideous and ferocious-to
kill. He did not reason. 1t was no more
than an unclaimed instinct. The noise
of the organs upon the boulevard, which
accompanied with their musical, drag
ging notes this savage scene, like n
trcmolo undcrtone to melodrama at
the theater he did not hear. The whole
intensity of his life seemed to be con.
centrated in his fury, i'll his hand arm
ed with tho knife He threw himself
on Revere. lie struck the flesh, open
ing tho throat, as across the water
among the Eauchos he had been accus-
toned to kill sheep or cut the throat of
al OK.
Revere staggered, wavered, freed
from the hand which held him, and
Prades, stepping back, looked at him.
Livid the dying man seemed to live
only in his yes. He had cast upon the
murderer a last meaning look. Now, in
sort Of supreme agony, he looked
around. His eyes searched for IA support,
for aid-yes, they called, while from
that throat horrible sounds issued.
Pradcs saw with kind Of fright Ro-
we're, With u supcrhuman tragic effort
step lack, staggering like a drunken
man, pull with his poor contracted
hands from .bove the chimney piece an
object which the murderer had not no.
ticcd, and upon which, with an ardent
prayerful expression, he fixed his eyes,
stammcring some quick, inarticulate
words which Prades could not hear or
understand.
1t seemed to Pradcs that between his
victim and himself there was Il witness,
and whether he thought Of the value Of
the stones imbeddcd in the frame or
whether he wished to take from Revere
this last support in his distress, he went
TO him and attempted to tear the portrait
from his hands. But an extraordinary
strength seemed to como to the dying
man and RCrere resisted fastening his
eyes upon the portrait casting upon it "a
living fame, like the last flare of dy
ing lamp, and with this last, despair
ing, agoni2ing lock the ex-ccnsul
breathcd his last. He fell. Prades tore
the portrait from the fingers which
Clutched it, That frame, he could sell
it. lie picked up here and there some
pieces which seemed to him of value, as
if on pillaging tour Oh the prairies
lie was about to enter the library where
the safe was when the noise of the open
ing of the entrance door awakened his
trapper's instinct. Some one was COM
ing. Who it could be was of little i'm
po-tanoe. To remain was to expose him
self. to be AT once arrested. The corpse
onco seen, tho person would cry aloud,
rush ont, close tho door and send fol
tho police
Hesitating between desire to pillage
and the necessity for flight Pradcs did
not wait long to decide. Should he
hide? Impossihlel Then, stepping back
to the salon door, he flattened himself
us much as possible against the wall
and waited until the door should be
opened when he would be completely
hidden behind it. AS Nine. Moniche
stepped into the room and cried out as
she saw Revere lying on the floor,
Prades slipped into the antcchamber,
found himself on the landing, closed the
door, rapidly descended the stairs and
stepped ont upon the Boulevard de
Clichy among the passersby, even be-
fore Nine. Moniche, terrified, had call
cd for help.