The Nezperce herald. (Nezperce, Idaho) 1900-1957, 1908-07-02
CHAPTER xIx.-(Continued.

hiuchs tnouSnt you SAID you coulun
find Madame La Sour"
Il had some difficulty at first; but
have had one of my men on the track fol-
the past two days He now reports hel
as residing in Belleville. shall move
up into that neighborhood tonight. and
commence my investigations. In the
meantime l want you TO continue to
watch Monsieur Chabct and report what
steps our deluded friend the project OF
police is taking"
So they parted. Cassagne TO his lodg-
ings TO assume such dress as would
harmonic with the humble quarters OF
the town where be proposed TO pursue
bis investigations, D'Auburon to his club.
where be had an appointment with NJ.
Jules Chabot, and in whose company he
would presently repair to the drawing
rooms Of the Vlcomte and Vicomtesse de
Valair.
At about half past eight the next even
ing. anyone who had taken the trouble
to look might have seen enter the Rue
Banquiere by its western end. a man
dressed in rough garments, who looked
like well-to-do workman, with his heavy
shoes and lime-bespattered corduroys- He
wore no collar on his check cotton shirt,
but around his throat was loosely tied
red pocket handkerchief A bag contain
ing few tools was slung over his shout
der.
Presently he stopped. ostensibly to pur-
chase some fruit. which hawker in one
Of the barrows in the middle Of the street
was vociferously Offering for sale As
h. .1.nf fix va +
with the peddler, however, his gaze in
reality fixed upon scene before him
unique even among the curious phases OF
life to be encountered in the Rue Ban
quiere-
In shop which in point of size was
double at least that Of either of its adj
joining neighbors. a crowd Of the very
poorest Of Belleville had gathered There
must have been thirty or forty men, won-
en- and children inside the doors, at the
very least. and as many more waiting out
side on the pavement
Over this shop swung a sign-board. on
both sides of which was painted the figure
OF a hancock, in a white cap and apron, |
industriously carving an unnaturally red |
round beef; and underneath, apparently |
unharrned BY the steam and the gravy, |
for 1t was plainly to be read. was the /
democratic legend, Il carve for the PEI
pie"
Inside the shop a gentleman similarly 1
habited. but a trihe less corpulent and
dignifed than his counterfeit presentment
on the sign, was at that moment actually
engaged in the very occupation which the
legend advertised. He was engaged in
carving for the people.
In place. however, Of operating upon
8 round Of beef, be was engaged in slic-
ing. with great rapidity. meat pudding.
This pudding Itself. apart from the hun
cry crowd waiting to devour it, was an
object worth looking at 1t was at least
Eve feet long and as thick as ships
Fable. As the cook cut of a slice. a
stout woman Of about 6fty-five years OF
lge would seize it, wrap it up in piece
IF newspaper, and hand il to someone in
he crowd. not letting 90 Of the appetiz-
ng morsel. however, until she had re-
.eived in exchange therefor two coins in
copper. a great heap Of which lay in a
irawer beside her.
The workman at the huckster's barrow
inished his apple and bought another.
The intent gaze which he kept fixed upon
he cook shop at length attracted the at
ention of the vender
You seem to be amused" he said
Have you never seen a pudding cut be
ore" '
''Not such a pudding as that" replied
be man with the bag ITS quite sight,
int it? Why, there's another"
That's nothing. They'll keep that ,
hing up for an hour yet Old Mother
ferchant's buildings have a reputation, a
tell you. in the Rue Banquiere-" b
The shop, then, belongs to Madame i
lerchant, who, suppose, Is that old n
dyT e
Yes, and not only the shop. but the o
,use as well. She has not been cutting
1ddings all these years for nothing. .
he's a pretty good-hearted woman, Z
cough, and nobody begrudges her her
oney. In the winter time she lets me s.
II hot pies right in front OF her shop
re, though it's against her own trade
The glare Of the petroleum lamps flick
ed up less brightly. The night crept on q
pace. The fierce glare of the street
hanged to dingy twilight 1t was as :
the footlights had been turned halfway
,wn in some realistic melodrama- The
'owd melted away at last
Only the stub end Of one Of the pud- u
ngs remained on the greasy counter
he drawer was piled full Of coins. A =
retched woman, gaunt with famine, was u
e only customer left She was bargain y
z for bone with which to make soup. ~
er two starving children, clinging to y y
r tattered gown, eyed with wistful looks =
e remnant Of the pudding; but 1t was :
luxury beyond their mothers means. -
The workman took up his bag, and -
dding goodnight to the huckster, cross
over into the shop. The man In the =
. and apron was resting from his la -
rs The workman called to him and he !.
me up to the counter. "a
"A slice Of pudding" said the work ..
IN. :,
The man in the cap and apron cut II Il,
There's no more paper he said A.
'oull have to take 1t In your hands, n,
8 nearly cold now. anyway. Why didn't 81
u come In when it was bot7 1t was 10
and then, / tell you"
The wretched mites clinging to the tat co
ed skirts Of their mother, moved re- Il,
.tantig toward the door The rvornarf | ho