Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1909-06-29

| II seemed that he might now revenge
himself condignly for that still ranking
| insult. For II was none other than his
! aggressor whom he had observed over
] night in the concert hall of the Blue
/ Rabbit at the same table with the chauf-
| feur, stephen Quaintance. He would
| teach all those perfidious foreigners that
| they could not make a fool Of a French
man and go scot-free. But he must be
wary lest monsieur should learn the part
he himself had played with regard to
| the car.
1T is but right to assume" he sug-
| gestcd, that Madame la duchesse has
not disappeared of her own free will
| Has monsieur noticed any acquaintance
of hers in her neighborhood?"
| Monsieur was on his feet in an instant,
| striding to and fro I'm the spacious bed
room. He had, indeed, noticed what the
/ perspicacious Jules had suggested, and
/ that no later than last night at the
/ Elysee. He told the cunning valet some
I part of what he had observed there, and
that rascal was inwardly transported, all
though he had listened with great out
| ward gravity.
| "It may be. then, that I can offer
| monsieur a clew," he declared. 1.-The
4 gentleman monsieur describes was seen
/ with madame in America. 1 caught a
\ glimpse of him yesterday at Auteuil
| Late last night 1 saw him in company
| with two others at a cafe, and one of
/ the others wore motor clothing, a COM
| plete chauffeur's outfit. 1t almost looks
as though they had abducted madame!'
The due CRASHED his teeth in a pas
sion of impotent anger He had not
told Jules of madame's quick emotion
at sight Of her countryman, how she
had greeted him, or that the stalwart
1 A Ice I'm,
diately after. A most poisonous sus-
picion was penetrating his mind. He
had just remembered that she had in
sisted upon leaving by herself, for
hidden him to see her to her car
riage. What a fool he had been, to
believe that women were any better
than menl And she had taken him
| in so easily! All she wanted, of
course, was to free herself of police
surveillance, so that she might go
back to the man who had followed
her from America. What was he to
do now? Put the matter into the
hands Of the police, and so insure pub
lie exposure? No, that would not do.
1t would not help him to have her
brought back a prisoner. Did he want
her back at all, since she had thus
cruelty killed his nascent faith in her
fawlessness? He did not know.
He hastily left the house; and, as
he walked, with bent head, Quaintance
came toward him, arm in arm with
Cornoyer and in mood no less recR-
less.
At sight Of him the due stopped
abruptly, and drew a long, kissing
breath. Cornoyer, who knew the due.
had nodded a salutation and would
have passed on.
He intercepted the pair by stepping
squarely in front Of Quaintance.
The pleasure Of a woEd with mon
sieur." he begged, having lifted his
hat with great ceremony.
Quaintance waited, impressive, while
Cornoyer reluctantly drew to one side.
Where is madame. my wife?" de-
manded the due in the same steely and
monotonous voice, his chin thrust for
ward. a fire Of hate alight in his mar
rowed eyes ...
How the devil do I know where
madame, your wife, is" retorted
Quaintance, thankful for the excuse
to pick a quarrel with the roue who
had robbed him Of his hearts desire.
The due struck him, lightly enough,
across the face, but the voice in
which he branded him, LIAR" rang
loud. 1t had scarce left his lips when
Quaintance returned the blow, but in
such wise that his enemy went hurt
ling against a bystander who had
halted in blank amazement, and they
both came to earth with a crash.
Cornoyer sprang forward. A crowd
gathered. Then Cornoyer went forward,
leaving Quaintance strictly charged to
restrain himself, to where the victim of
his friends right arm was quietly stanch-
ing a cut chin and striving to convince
those who encircled him that he had no
further immediate violent intention. He
willingly accompanied Cornoyer in the
direction of the door, while Quaintance
sauntered toward his hotel
When Cornoyer came back he wore a
look of genuine gravity for the first time.
M. lie Due demands satisfaction" he
said. 81 told him that you would be quite
ready to accord It. May I act for you in
the matter?"
IT hate to drag you in, J. j." Quaint
ance told him, "but-if you don't mind
1.-The dues a most expert swordsman,"
Cornoyer stated, refectively. He'd run
you through in twinkling, unless you're
first class fencer."
'"Then We'll strike swords out, old
chap"
Hes a dead shot, too" said Cornoyer
He'll be a dead shot when I've done
with him." Quaintance asserted, grimly.
Better make II guns of some kind, ]. j."
Hell send a friend round between 4
and g. Wen fix It for tomorrow at dawn,
II that suits you"
Perfectly. The sooner we get it over
the better"
When NJ. lie Due reached his rooms in
the Rue st. Honore, a short walk from
the Place Vendome, with his handkerchief
to his chin, he found Tissot-Datour. He
had been at loss to know where to turn
for a friend who would not infer too
much from the fact that he meant to
fight the American TO whom all Paris at
the Elysee had seen his unsmiling duch-
esse both smile and speak. Furthermore,
this fat vulgarian was of good standing
in the prefecture de police.
Tissot-Latour was too grateful for his
kindness to run any risk of~curdling It by
acceding to his request otherwise than
freely.
'Tf anything's heard about It I'll hold
you responsible" the due cautioned, men,
acingly. you'll have plenty of notoriety
after it's over"
Me. seek not notoriety,~ his second
assured him.
He painted round to the Rue st. Roch,
and It was settled that the meeting
should take place next morning as soon