Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1909-08-26

J
and for the first time ne showed II
rilatiOn. ~
This is what I mean" said Mr.
sinclair: Il mean that you are an
impostor, marquis"
AN impOstor." he smiled.
yes, l mean that you are nc
more the Marquis Of Merle than
/ ami" -,
The marquis leaned against the
mantelsheIf aDd eyed him closely.
"Indeed!".
indeed" Knocked Mr.. Sinclair, al
most maddened by the easy, insolen1
manner Of the man he had come tc
humble. Yes, and indeed, again!
You are no more the Marquis Of
Merle than 1 ami"
The marquis laughed softly.
"you have two minutes to prove
that. my friend, and then you may
return to the asylum you have es
capped FRONT"
Il can prove it easily enough!
said Mr.. Sinclair, rising in his ex
element. do you hear? Your ia
Their ran away with Bessie Richards
and-married her!"
The marquis face never altered
line, but smiled down scornfulIy up
on the red-spotted face.
Married her!" repeated Mr.. SIN
clair, maddened by the calm, I'M
massive face and silence of his foe
Married her! Made her the Mar
chioness Of Merle, and the boy, Har-
nv Herne, is the present real mar
ouis, and you are-Heayen knows
Heaven knows what"
The marquis never moved a mus.
Gle: smile and sheer seemed cast IN
bronze
you are an impertinent lunatic!"
he said. Get out of my sight, or
will have you thrown into the
street! You have sense enough to
understand that, I suppose? Go, do
you hear?" and he pointed to the
door
Mr.. Sinclair dropped into his seat,
noisily.
Ring the bell, mister!" he said
insoIently. Ring the bell, and call
the servants. Send for the lady
you've married, and I'll tell them
all I've told you, and prove it to
them!"
The marquis laid his hand upon
the bell, then dropped it once again.
"Come!" he said, taking a sovereign
from his pocket. Il don't want a
scandal and scene, and you know
it. You are trading upon that, l
suppose? Here is a sovereign for you.
Take it, and thank your stars /
don't send you to Jail, my friend.
Be Off"
Sinclair took the coin and flung it
through the open window.
you think I'm mad-that l can't
prove what I say!" he exclaimed,
purple with rage. you think a
sovereign will buy me off, Ell? I'll
prove it! I'll prove that your father
married Bessie Richards at the
church of St Angelo at Paris, on
August twenty-fourth, 1856-"
The marquis started, and the blood
rushed to his face and back again,
leaving it white as marble.
You le!" he said.
Its the solemn truth" said Mr..
Sinclair, land here is a copy of the
register!" and he pulled the slip Of
discoIored paper from his waistcoat
pocket and waved it before the mar
quis' face.
There was silence for a moment
or two; the great gilt clock licked
its way through time with a mock
ing sound while the two men, the
one aristocrat to his finger tips, the
other plebeian from head to foot, re-
garded each other.
Then the marquis opened his lips
You have played your part very
cleverly, my friend, he said, with a
sneer. Il beg your pardon! I see
you are not mad; you are only a
clever and rather daring scoundrel.
OF course, the paper is a forgery"
Mr.. Sinclair rose and extended the
slip.
A forgery? No, it's genuine! Take
it, examine it! Send for the police.
Give me in charge, and then tele-
graph to Paris! You'll soon find
whether it's a forgery or not!"
The marquis took the paper be-
tween his white finger and thumb
and examined it.
1t was a copy of the certificate.
1t was genuine. Why he knew and
felt convinced of this, he could not
have said, but perhaps the mans
last words had helped to convince
him. He took the paper to the
light, turned it over once or twice,
then threw it to Sinclair.
Then he went to the window, and
stood looking ous for quite three
minutes: at the end of that time he
came back. white to the lips, but
calm and cool as ice.
who told you th;s-how do you
know 10" he demanded
Mr.. Sinclair was clever enough to
know that nothing bu' the truth
would serve his purpose-a lie
might ruin him.
An old man-an antiquarian" he
replied
All" said the marquis. and rs
nostrils dilated. Then there are
two"
NO" sad Mr. Sinclair, quietly