Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1904-06-04

could J find himr' Ny restless eye
roamed 4 the cherries room. COM
Ing bach - rest upon a long dust-cov-
cred mirror set In the wall across the
way.
AS window-driven clouds gather and
group themselves in fantastic shapes,
so, deep In that mirrors shadowy
depths, a vague figure gradually took
form and character--myself.
With the vacant glance OF a man
whose mind Is intensely preoccupied, /
studied infinitely the reflection, my own
bearing, my dress, my weapons. / Eve
noted a button off my coat. and tried
dimly to remember where l had lost II,
until-great God-this chamber of
death and revelation had turned my
brain.
What face was thai I saw? My own,
a~ssuredly, but SO like another.
Aghast, powerless to move or cry out,
/ stared helplessly into the glass.
Every other sensation vanished now
before this newborn terror which held
my sou ens!aved. / closed my eyes, 1
dared not look.
My body seemed immovable with
horror, but a trmebling had arose and
pointed at the mirror. Scant need there
was to call attention to that dim, ter
ribile presence: my whole soul shrank
from the ghostly face reflected In the
bAooo' rol NAClC, lHtAt was the game
pallid countenance, death-dlstorted
and drawn, which / had conjured up In
many a frightened dream as that Of the
murdered count-there was Henri
d'Artin.
How long ] stood transfixed, point
ing into the mirror, l know not. As
men think OF tTifcs even in times of
deadly fear. so did my lips frame over
and over again the last question / had
IN mind hnfnR 800
Where is the last d'Artin? Where Is
the last d'Artin? Where-?"
And In answer to my question, that
long, rigid finger pointed directly at me
from out the dusty glass. 1t was as II
the hand of the dead had old me who l
was.
1t a been no blind chance, then,
which led me TO the Paris house of the
BLACK VOLTS Head" the girls ring
with the same device, and the grew
some narrative beneath the shadow of
the Wolf at the Norman ruin-nothing
less than fate q brought these lights
to me.
Verify some more logical power than
u~nreasoning accident must direct the
steps of men. A God Of justice per-
haps had placed these tokens in my
path. And soldiers call this For
tune"
| dispatched Pachaco to Biloxi with
the news of death, and long before the
afternoon our few simple arrangements
for his funeral had been made.
Bury me here, PlaCide. beneath this
great oak" he had said to me one day.
The nfn Mercy will consecrate the
grave OF p~enitence, wherever it may
be-"
He nae his wish.
CHAPTER XIII.
A NOTE WHICH WENT ASrRAY.
Meanwhile jacques had undertaken
to manage my little affair at Biloxi
with tact and discretion. And this Ia
how the fellow did IT:
1t seems that jacques thought no
harm Of the note, and when he took Il
first to the house my lady was out.
The honest fellow, doing his best 10
carry out my instructions, refused to
leave it. When he returned, my lady
worked, bent down amongst her flow
ers, In the little garden beside her cot
lance off, busted someway, Jacques
knew not how, but with his face
turned away from my messengers as
he came up. Jacques handed the note
to my lady through the fence, and she
took ii gently by the corner, fearing to
soil II. She held 1t up to look Mt the
name written upon II, and seeing 1t
was her OWL looked again more curl
ously at the writing. She did not know
the hand. Then she gaiiy called to the
Chevalier:
CONTINUED Next Week.)