Ladysmith news. [volume] (Ladysmith, Wis.) 1906-1907, 1907-01-26

Brangwyn on the very day of his fight
from justice. You remember the
scoundrel He murdered his uncle for
his money and hid him in modelling
clay and worked him up into statue.
Must have been a most astonishingly
coldblooded villain. He was boiling
for his life, boiling to save his neck,
sir; and to look at him you wouldn't
have thought he had care upon his
| mind. He asked me to pass the salt"
And Alexis asked the gentleman
who sat opposite to do him that small
favor.
All this time he seemed to be car
rfed nearer to the yawning gulf Of hor-
ror and terror which waited for him.
Every footstep led the way. The
steamer sailed toward the gulf. The
night train to Paris painted and strain
ed toward it. He was driven toward it
in the fiacre in which he crossed the
Seine, until he found himself at no.
tel he had known years and years ago
in his student days He was Paris
born and Paris bred, and spoke the
language as Familiarity as native. He
was an excellent mimic, and had per-
| feet command of a dozen dialects.
He gave an address somewhere in
| the Midi, and his accent of Provence
bore out the pretence admirably. He
| broke up a sheaf of his large notes
that day for smaller paper of the Bank
of France, calling at dozen bureaux
| de change to do SO. He passed on TO
Lille, and there he gave another name
and was a man from Normandy. And
so he went his devious way with all
manneI of shifts and lodges, stopping
with one name and accent at one ho-
| tel upon his road, and at another with
a new name and new accent.
The days grew blistering hot as he
steered his erratic southwark course,
and at last he found himself in the
| town of Grasse, an Englishman who
| spoke an execrable Cockney French
with equal yolubility and inexactitude,
and who was here to purchase the per
| fumed lard for which the town is ia
nous, and from which most of the
scents of English toilet tables are de-
rived. 1t was here he found the gulf
| toward which he had been journeying.
| He mounted to the room assigned him
at his hotel, and the courteous waiter
| handed him copy of a London news
paper.
ooh, mercy, bocco," said the Cock
ney traveller, and sat down uninterest-
| eddy to read, and in the printed page
| the gulf of horror and terror opened.
| His eye lighted on the words, "SOlu-
ton of the Brangwyn Mystery. Flight
| Of the Criminal" He read the YER
| batim report of the proceedings at
| Bow Street quite intelligently. It was
not that which brought the anguish
| which consumed him. The fire Of re-
morse had smouldered its appointed
| time, and at it's appointed time had
| lighted into flame.
His applied chemicals had brought
! his hair to snowy Wilderness by this
| time, and after he had endured the
| long-drawn, sleepless agony Of that
night his face and eyes matched it. He
went quietly away, carrying his hand
would give directions for the heavier
| piece to be sent after him.
He walked away and away into the
| country, not knowing whittier his foot
steps led him. The land was bare and
| arid and the sun environed him with
a shroud of heated steel. He sat down
at last at wayside auberge and
| quenched his thirst with a draught Of
sour wine. Then he went on again
for mile, or, maybe two
There he paused and looked about
| him.
There can be nothing worse than
! this" he said. aloud, land there is no
end TO it, Well, then, let us make all
| end
| He drew the little leather case
which held the phial from his waist
coat pocket. He removed the stopper
| and the odor Of bruised peach stones
| filled the air. He raised the phial to
his lips and tilted it, and in the very
act he fell. He made one conyulsive
movement and then lay still.
Ito Be Continued.)