Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1907-10-18
CHAPTER XVI.

More than week had elapsed since
the departure of NJ. Cassagne, during
| which time his assistant in Paris, Charles
D'Auburon had received no word of him.
One morning, however, he got a laconic
message over the wire: Rue de Prov
ence, 2 p. m. Tuesday" by which he
| rightly surmised that his chief would
meet him at his lodgings at the hour
| named. Almost on the stroke of the
| clock, D'Auburon heard the detective
| climbing the stairs leading to his apart
| ments.
He is pretty tired" cogitated the
young Frenchman. HE comes slowly"
He was right. Alfred Cassagne had no
sooner entered the room than he flung
himself heavily into a chair. His face
wore an expression of anxiety. His dress
was disorlered. He seemed dreadfully
fatigued and dspirited. D'Auburon
FASTENED to relieve him of his hat and
light overcoat, and to take the hot wig
from his head.
You look worn out, old fellow" he
exclaimed. Pull off your boots and
coat, and make yourself comfortable"
Thus invited, Alfred Cassagne Invested
himself of these articles of apparel, re-
marking as he pulled off his boots:
81 haven't had these off for the last
forty EIGHT hours-and they were too
tight for me anyhow"
Anything gone wrong"
'To be brief, all our work of the past
two weeks has to be done over again"
"What?" exclaimed DAuburon. DO
you mean to say we are on the wrong
track?"
* will tell you right now" replied
NJ. Cassagne. 1T is peculiar story. l
soon settled the question as to where
Graham was"
"You have found him, then? and it is
not he who committed the crime? All,
that is bad Our theory at once falls to
the ground
Not so fast. Don't anticipate me.
However, | may tell you that Henry Ora
ham had no more to do with the murder
of Madame Roupell than you or 1 had
1T is very extraordinary"
mot extraordinary at all. But let me
begin at the beginning. I left Paris hav-
ing in my possession certain facts upon
which | knew l could thoroughly rely.
One of them was that Graham had gone
to Relliers. taking his little son with
snondence with woman there whose first
name was Helene, and whom l firmly be-
lieved to be the mother of the child"
ayes. l recollect all that go on, pray;
what nextT
"Arrived at Belliers, l instituted every
possible inquiry as to whether SUCH per-
sons as Graham and his son were known
or had ever been known there. This
search occupied the greater portion of my
time. I was about to despair when L
stumbled across an old priest who told me
that he had known the man was in
search Of.
".Are YOU a friend of his?' asked the
nriest 1 am l replied. Then you
will he shocked when you hear what hap
pened to him. Come with me, and l will
roll Won his story I followed the priest,
expecting to hear that he was the inmate
Of some charitable institution, or having
lost his reason was confined in some prl-
vate ASYLUM. He led the way to his
church. and there in the little burylng
ground he pointed me out grave. At Its
head was a stone on which | read:
"'HENRY GRAHAM,
Aged 81 years."
"yhat ~ exclaimed D'Auburon, aston
ished beyond measure was 1t our den-
~ Graham? 1t can't be possible
"There is not the slightest doubt about
If When saw that tombstone, you can
imagine how 1 felt after all the time
and trouble I had given this case. IL
was as If the bottom had dropped out OF
everything. The priest saw, no doubt
that | was strangely affected. lie attrio-
,,,,- c,;ta ti0n grief.
Tell me something about my poor
old friend l said. l have heard that
no was in very bad circumstances Did
he die poor?
VERY replied the priest. But ne
,-os cared for by mother church. That
stone was erected by his son. All he
wos sad scamp, a willful fellow, who
rave his poor father no end Of trouble.
Rut that was the old mans fault, partly
He did not somehow care to have the boy