The Kendrick gazette. [volume] (Kendrick, Idaho) 1892-1968, 1908-06-19
CHAPTER xIx.-(Continued.)
A u s t y n

CHAPTER XIX Continued.)
"But it is quite likely that she would
give us any clew to the whereabouts of
one who was almost son to her. Be
sides, thought you said you couldn't
find Madame La Seur."
II had some difficulty at first; but I
have had one of my men on the track for
the past two days. He now reports her
as residing in Belleville I shall move
up into that neighborhood tonight, and
commence my investigations. In the
meantime I want you to continue to
watch Monsieur Chabot 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 he proposed to pursue
his investigations, D'Auburon to his club,
where he had an appointment with M.
Jules Chabot, and in whose company he
would presently repair to the drawing
rooms Of the Vicomte 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, 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 a
red pocket handkerchief. A bag contain
ing q few tools was slung over his shout
der.
Presently he stopped, estensihly to pur-
chase some fruit, which hawker in one
of the barrows in the middle Of the street
was vociferously offering for sale. As
he stood there chatting in a friendly way
with the peddler, however, his gaze in
reality fixed upon a 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 ad-
joining neighbors, a crowd of the very
poorest Of Belleville had gathered. There
must have been thirty or forty men, wom-
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 white cap and apron,
lndustriously carving an unnaturally red
round beef; and underneath, apparently
unframed by the steam and the gravy,
Tor It was plainly to be read, was the
democratic legend, II carve for the peo-
ple."
Inside the shop a gentleman similarly
habited, but trifle less corpulent and
dignified 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
q round of beef, he 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 a ships
cable. As the cook cut off a slice, a
stout woman of about fifty-6ve years of
age would seize 1t, wrap it up In a piece
Of newspaper, and hand 1t to someone in
the crowd, not letting 60 Of the appetiz-
ing morsel, however, until she had re-
ceived in exchange therefor two coins in
copper, a great heap of which lay in q
drawer beside her.
The workman at the huckster's barrow
finished his apple and bought another
The intent gaze which he kept fixed upon
the cook shop at length attracted the at.
tention of the vender
"You seem to be amused" he said
"Have you never seen pudding cut be-
eore?"
mot such a pudding as that" replied
the man with the bag. Its quite a sight
amt it? Why, there's another"
That's nothing. They'll keep thai
thing up for an hour yet. Old Mother
Merchants buildings have a reputation
tell you, In the Rue BanQuiere."
1.-THE shop, then, belongs to Madam
Merchant, who, I suppose. is that oil
ladyT
Eyes, and not only tie shop, but tn
house as well. She has not been cuttinl
buildings all these years for nothing
She's a pretty good-hearted woman
though, and nobody begrudges her he
money. In the winter time she lets m
sell not pies right IN front OF ner sno
here, though It's against her own trade.
The glare of the petroleum lamps flick
cred up less brightly. The night crept O
apace. The fierce glare of the stree
changed to dingy twilight. 1t was a
II the footlights had been turned half-wa
down in some realistic melodrama. Th
crowd melted away at last.
Only the stub end of one of the put
dings remained on the greasy countel
The drawer was piled full of coins. .
wretched woman, gaunt with famine, wa
the only customer left She was bargain
ing for bone with which to make soul
Eer two starving children, clinging I
her tattered gown, eyed with wistful lool
the remnant of the pudding; but it we
Z luxury beyond their mothers means.
The workman took up his bag, an
nodding goodnight to the huckster, eros
I'd over into the shop. The man in IL
cap and apron was resting from his |,
bors. The workman called to him and
came up to the counter.
"A slice Of pudding" said the worl
San.
The man in the cap and apron cut |