The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1908-01-04
q r a n v ii e

into his. 1t was an objectionable liberty
for staid scientific gentleman to take.
Harriet's back was turned toward them.
Il love you," he murmured.
Then he stopped and kissed her on the
lips. She flushed scarlet.
"Dr. Mason-Paul - she exclaimed.
He sprang across with her into the
field. Harriet was out of sight. She had
disappeared among the trees.
Forgive me-" he cried, and he took
her hand before she could withhold it.
"You tempted me beyond my strength.
Say that you love me just little Bit"
why, nonsense! AS if young ladies
made confessions of that sort!"
She was blushing furiously. 1t became
imperatively necessary to- pause little
to allow her to recover herself. They
were entirely alone. For brief minute
they remained thus, looking into each
others faces.
Then they sauntered on, hand in hand
across the plowed field, to where Harriet,
with her mouth full of bread and cheese
was impatiently awaiting them.
whats the matter with you two?"
she asked. II thought you'd lost your
way"
The train which bore DR.. Paul Mason
back to Paris that night must have been
conscious Of the reluctance of one of it's
passengers, at least, to leave the neigh
borhood of Villeneuve, for never had
short trip seemed so long and tedious to
a certain pleasant faced, thoughtful, mid
dle-aged gentleman, who sat and thrum
med impatiently upon the window looking
out upon the night.
"She has promised me-" was the bur-
den of his thoughts. "She has promised
me that on the day on which Van Lith
goes free, she will be my wife,"
CHAPTER XVI.
More than a 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, 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 chair. His face
wore an expression of anxiety. His dress
was disorlered He seemed dreadfully
fatigued and dispirited. 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:
Il haven't had these off for the last
forty weight 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 D'Auburon. do
you mean to say we are on the wrong
track?"
: Il 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, l may tell you that Henry Ora
ham had no more to do with the murder
of Madame Roupell than you or l had"
1T is very extraordinary"
mot extraordinary at all. But let me
begin at the beginning. left Paris hav-
ing in my possession certain facts upon
which l knew / could thoroughly rely.
One Of them was that Graham had gone
to Belliers, taking his little son with
him; another that he had been in CORE
spondence with a woman there whose first
name was Helene and whom l firmly be-
lieved to be the mother of the child"
"Yes, l recollect all that; go on, pray
what next?"
Arrived at Belliers, 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 OCCupleu the greater pOTlIOu Oh my
time. I was about to despair when
stumbled across an old priest who told me
that he had known the man l was in
search of.
''Are you friend of hisY asked the
priest. 1 am replied. Then you
will be shocked when you hear what hap,
pened to him. Come with me- and will
tell you his story followed the priest,
expecting to hear that he was the inmate
of some charitable institution, or having
lost his reason was confined in some pri-
vate asylum. He led the way to his
church, and there in the little burying
ground he pointed me out grave. At its
head was stone on which / read:
"'HENRY GRAHAM,
Aged 60 years."
"What - exclaimed D'Auburon, aston
ished beyond measure. WAS it our Hen
ry Graham? 1t can't be possible ~
There is not the slightest doubt about
it. When saw that tombstone, you can
imagine how felt after all the time
and trouble I had given this case. 1t
i