The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1899-02-25
/ ly Is he wheeled around. AT lastl' he
exclaimed. so you have found me,

~ - ne Wneeleo arouno. AT asst! M
exclaimed. so you have found me
| tnen?"*
The owner of the hand was shah.
bily-dressed man, whom the reporter
had not, to his knowledge, ever seen
before. His whole air was mysterious,
aud he glanced furtively from right to
left, as if DESTROYS that the attention CT
passers-by should not be attracted.
Not word," he said, warningly, rails
ing very dirty forefingef.
'Oh, know all about that" returned
Edmondson, airily. "Your wushup,
fcautioned the prisoner. etc.
Recognized you in moment, but
I've only just seen you." went on the
stranger, .hurriedIy; and, ,thrusting
something into Edmondson's breast
pocket, he instantly darted away and
was quickly swallowed up in the flow
ing tide of humanity.
The reporter was for some moments
too much astonished to move or speak;
he could only gaze after the man open.
mouthed? What did it mean? Here he
lad been practically caught, only to be
let go again! All, what was in his
pocket? 1t was an envelope, sealed but
unaddressed. Hastily tearing it open
he found inside short note:
"Tuesday.-Shall have the money for
you on Thursday night. viii be at ST.
Psncras in time for you to catch The
midnight train to L'pool."
Instantly food of light dawned on
him. He had been mistaken for the
murderer, not by detective, but by
an emissary of the mans friends, who
were assisting him to fly from England!
doubtless the fugitive was then in town,
and should have been at Charing Cross
at about the time he (Edmondson) was
there.
"Was there ever such coincidence
or luck?" thought the reporter. "Any.
thing more extraordinary I never heard
of. Why, this little adventure will be
worth noend Of copy must find Dob
son."
Hailing cab, he drove to Scotland
Yard, and, giving a constable one of
his own cards, asked to see Inspector
Dobson. He was shown into small
room, and presently that gentleman en-
tered. When he caught sight of his
visitor he seemed not little perplexed,
g.ancing two or three times with knit.
ted brows from Edmond sons face to the
bit of pasteboard.
The reporter burst into deep-chest-
ed laughter. "It's all right" he said.
Then he told the detective of his quest
for copy" and its wholly unexpected
result. 'Here is the letter." he con-
cluded. pulling from his pocket the
note given to him at Charing Cross.
"and, unless ] am greatly mistaken. ii
will lead to the arrest of the Plymouth
Inspector Dobson read and reread
the message, smiling massively the
while. "Capital!. he exclaimed.
Isn't it?" asked the reporter, glee-
fully. "Itgives the whole thingaway.r
"Just SO" said the inspector. "And
you've put us in for smart capture by
4 plan to show us up! By the way,
what are you going to do about your
article now?" II
"That depends upon circumstances.at
Edmcndson, cautiously.
The detective looked at the note.
Tuesday. 1t is now Thursday; SO he's
yoing to cut down to Liverpool to-,
light"
ITO think Of his taking the high road |
o American said Edmondson, with |
corn:' He couldn't have dogs chance
4 getting through in any circums
tances. What an ass he must BET" =,
Criminals of his class generality I
re-" said the detective, sententiousiy.
What about to-night?" he queried, abb
uptly. you'll turn up at St. Pan
ras?"
..Certainly.""
do so, by all means" said the in
pector. you'll have big sensation
o-rhorrow.s I'll meet you outside the
tation,, opposite the clock tower, at
aif- past limo, say a quarter past"
Shortly after II o'clock the reporter
as at the appointed place of meeting.
aspector Dobson was not there, nor
id he put in an appearance at the
uarter hour. .Edmondsop paced to and
70, Tuning with impatience and fire.
uently CHANGING at the clock. till the
ahds Indicated that in ten minutes the
rpress to the north would start on its
Ing Journey. Still there was no sign
the detective. The reporter, his
ind teeming with thousand fore
'dings, then strolled up to the de-
arturo platform. beginning at the
yards van, he walked from end to end
the midnight train. looking in every.
but to his bitter chagrin
could not see anybody. in the least
ke his mental portrait of the Plym-
18th murderer. !. Scarcely. had he,