Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1907-09-05

tedu FlueneuVe! He had discovered al
ready that inquiries regarding her fortune
and her intentions respecting it had been
set on foot by Jules Chabot. a little
further research revealed the fact that
the Frenchman's finances were in des-
perate condition. In his later enterprises
with the Vicomte de Valiar, fortune had
not been so kind. He had lost heavily.
CHAPTER NJ.
Five years before the tragedy at the
Chateau Vllleneuve. Charles D'Auburon
had found himself the untrammeled pos
SCISSOR of a considerable patrimony, and
had started in to enjoy life. He was then
twenty-one years of age. Two years later
he had exhausted every means of pleasure.
He was at that age when a really good
woman would have proved his salvation.
She did not, however, make her appear
ance. He was destined to find relief in
a more novel and totally unexpected d.
rection.
The Rue Brodier is not a particularly
attractive street either before or after
midnight. The police will assure you
that it is positively dangerous Many
sunrise has revealed the body of some
victim lying in its dark courts and moi
some alleys. 1t is altogether a strange
place for a young man of means, who by
rights should at such an hour be snugly
in bed and asleep, to be wandering in at
three o'clock in the morning. 1t is the
abode of robbers. Every house in it is a
den of thieves. The Seine, running by
at its foot with dark and turbid flood
is altogether too handy.
1t was to this unattractive street that
at an unseemly hour Charles D'Auburon
strayed with unconscious feet. He had
arisen from e sleepless bed, and had
strolled far and near, intending to tire
himself out. Then his reward would
come; repose, sound and refreshing, and
glorious thought, perhaps an appetite, to
which latter luxury he had been for some
days a stranger.
He walked on, totally unconscious of
danger, a thick stick his only weapon, in
all the confidence of a man who has never
felt the crack of a brass knuckle in the
hand of a garroter or made the acquaint-
ance of a sandbag.
Dark figures were creeping from the
alleys behind him. Mysterious whistles
resounded and re-echoed from the courts.
Something told him of his CANCER He
stopped and looked up at a name on the
corner house, just legible in the dingy
lamp light. To what part of Paris had
he wandered? He was in the Rue Brodier.
Involuntarily he turned to retrace his
steps, only to find himself confronted bv
a half score of sturdy ruffians. He grasp
ed his stick the tighter and backed closer
to the wall. His face was very pale:
but he did not show any sign of fear.
You will go on" he answered, defiant
ly, cor l will call the police
"The police! But few of those cattle
make their beats in the Rue Brodier, even
in the daytime" retorted the leader of
the rufians Come, your money, young
master"
D'Auburon put his hand in his pocket
and flung into the air what silver and
gold he had about him. 1t fell upon the
pavement under the street lamp. They
rushed at it like beasts. Then D'Au-
huron lost his nerve. He thought he saw
his opportunity. He sprang into the
middle of the street and ran like a deer.
The mob rushed after him. He would
have distanced them all, perhaps, he was
so very fleet, when the leader put his
hand to his mouth and uttered a peculiar
cry. Immediately from the alley ahead
of him sprang two men. He was upon
them before he knew it. He raised his
heavy stick and struck one down. The
other jumped at his throat and bore him
to the ground.
Even while he was thus fighting and
struggling for his life he became con-
scious that something was being ne in
II
set man standing over them and heard
him speaking in tones of authority. I'm
mediately the fellow with whom he was
fighting relaxed his hand on his throat.
On his dirty face alarm was plainly visi-
BILE With a muttered apology 70 the
thickset man he rushed to meet the mob
of his fellows, exclaiming:
Back, you fools. 1t is Monsieur Cas-
sagne."
Quietly they all sneaked away from the
man whom of all others they dreaded. He
had been known to go in among them,
and at the point of the pistol pick out
some desperate criminal and deliver him
over to justice. That's how Alfred Cas-
sagne and Charles D'Auburon became &C
quairted.
Profoundly grateful to NJ Cassagne,
D'Auburon not only did not lose sight
of him, but visited him often The
friendship of the detective was the others
salvation. Merely curious at first, DAu-
huron ultimately became completely fas-
cinated in the character and career of his
friend.
Thinking that he, D'Auburon, had seen
and exhausted everything, he was aston
ished to find these new fields of adven-
ture and occupation which this man had
titled to such perfection that they yield
ed an abundant harvest. Ina ginning he
knew it all, he stood humbled in the pres
ence of that genius, whose unequaled pen
etration of the thoughts and methods, and
whose extraordinary knowledge Of the
ways of men and women, astonished while
it enthralled him.
With an ardor which he could not have
believed he possessed, he willingly placed
himself and his fortune at the disposal OF
the great master in that most difficult of
professions. D'Auburon, as Cassagne be-
fore him, succumbed to the destinations
of a pursuit which the ignorant despise,
simply because they do not comprehend
it D'Auburon became first the pupil,
and finally the assistant Of the great de-
tective. And DAuburon and "Cliquot"
were one and the same man
1t was nearly ten o'clock one morning
when D'Auburon jumped out Of bed. He
had worked late the evening previous on
a pet literary project-Lives of Great
Detectives On the table of his sitting
room the manuscript upon which he had
been engaged still lay. Scattered near it
were half dozen volumes, all relating to
the same subject. D'Auburon stepped
lightly from his bedroom into small