The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-05-30
CHAPTER wv.
A PACKET OF OLD LETTERS.


For more than hour after the depar-
ture of Idris and Beatrice, Lorelie remained
where they had left her. She had sunk
into deep reverie. which, judged by the
expression of her face, was Of a painful
character.
Whence did Ivar obtain that vase?' she
murmured. He has always refused to
tell Take it. and ask no questions has
always been his answer. That urn"
she continued, repeating Idris's words
formed a part of the treasure that led
to murder Whoever gave you the urn
was either the assassin obtained it
through the agency Of the assassin. Ivar
gave it 10 me, but he was not the assassin.
No! the deed was wrought by the hand of
one who escaped from the wreck of the
ldris. Let me read those letters again in
the light of the new knowledge acquired
to-day"
She rose. and from a drawer in a cabi-
net took a packet of letters
What would Idris Breakspear give to
read these! she murmured. But the day
is not far distant when | must put them
into his hands; and then" she faltered
and then-how great will be his contempt
| for mei''
Carrying the letters to the table she sat
down and united the thread that bound
them.
The first one was written in a woman's
hand; and the envelope containing it bore
the words. ITO my daughter Loreie''
Madame Rochefort had, when dying
given this letter to Lorelie with the injunc-
ton that it not to be read till after
its writer had been laid in the grave.
Dearest Lorelie." 1t ran, cit may be that
| the disclosure contained in this letter will
cause you to view the memory OF your
mother with feelings of shame if not of
contempt: but leave the judgment of my
conduct. or. if you should so term ii, my
| sin, TO that higher tribunal before which
, now stand, and be not too quick to con-
| denim. since no woman can rightly judge me
| unless she herself stood in similar posi-
| ton to mine.
You will surmise by these words that
have some strange confession to make,
| and such in truth is the case.
You, my daughter, in common with the
rest OF the world, have hitherto regarded
| Eric Marville murderer, and your faith
| er, Noel Rochefort, as a man of stainless
| honor Learn now the truth that these
| opinions must be reversed: il was your
| father, and not Eric Marville, that MUIR
! dered Henri Duchesne And for twenty
years l have kept this guilty secret locked
within my breast, shielding my husbands
| reputation &c the injury of anothers.
| Let me tell the tale, and that in as few
words as possible, for it is a melancholy
"Reminiscences; why should 1 lnger over it?
| Il married your father in 1869.
During the first year of our welded life
| We lived at Nantes, your fathers regiment
/ having been stationed there.
| Our circle of friends included besides
| others, the Englishman. Eric Marville: and
| the Gascon. Henri Duchesne. The latter.
some years before. had been sutton for my
1
| that though he himself was now married
| he had not abandoned his passion for me.
| remained deaf to his advances. Thereupon
| his love turned to hatred, and DESTROYS of
| evoking my husbands suspicion and jeal-
| ousy, he had the baseness to boast among
| his friends that he had found in me an
easy conquest Though full of secret fury
your father hestated to send a challenge
| since Du chesne was deadly with pistol and
sword: to face him in duel to face
| certain death.
| Your father was a Corsican and took a
| Corsican's way of avenging himself
"One memorable summer night l was sit
ting alone in the upper room of our house.
| which overlooked the Place Graslin await
| ing the return OF your father from the Ar
| morique Club The hour was late. All was
| quiet in the square below. / opened the
| window and looked out upon the moonlit
| night. A footstep upon the pavement at
tracted my. attention. and stepping for
| the veranda. Henri Duchesne was standing
| below. he looked up. saw me- kissed his
hand. At that moment. from the shadow of
the doorway there leaped a man whose
| fingers Immediately twined themselves
| around Duchesne's throat Though taken
by surprise he instantly recovered himself,
| and drew forth a dagger. the recent gift.
| as l afterwards learned of Eric Narville
Il tried TO call for help, but found myself
| dumb with horror. Mutely | leaned against
the rail of the veranda watching the silent
and savage death-grapple taking place be-
meath my very feet. The dagger changed
hands: a swift stroke. and Ducnesne lay
| stretched upon the pavement.
Tho whole affair did not last more than
a minute | recoiled from the veranda
cold and trembling. Though / had not seer
his face L knew only too we'll who il was
that had wrought the deed.
Il staggered TO a sofa and tainted
When L awoke, your father was sittine
beside me.
1T was dream / murmured
1t was no dream. Thcrese. but reality
nor do l regret the deed. He sought voul
dishonor He deserved TO die. 1t was an
act of Justice
Let us fly from Nantes before YOU are
discovered / said
'Unwisei Stationed here with my re,i
ment. and living close to the scene of the
deed. dare not fly. Suspicion would .fal
upon at once
Next day we heard that Eric Marvill,
had been arrested for the murder. Have
no fear on his account said your father n
me. He did not commit the deed: how
then. can they prove that he did? The tria
drew nigh. and to my dismay I learned thai
/. as being present in the house at the time
of the murder, was cited TO give evidence
Your father. anticipating every kind OF
Question that could be put. instructed me
what 10 say. and for many days continued
drilling me IN the answers / was to give
When the time came for me 20 take my
place in court / stood up and swore an oath
heaven forgive the falsehood,- that / was
asleep at the time Of the murder and heard
nothing whatever of the scuffie.
ITO BE Continued Tomorrow