Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-06-26

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sun, was Sacred Heart; to his left was Eiffel
Tower, that thin, spidery structure that
thrust its hagpole straight toward the stars.
What fine young shot tower that would
make back in Jersey! AS the mists began to
lift he could trace the serpentine sweep of
the River Seine, winding from a point al
most at his feet away, away, and disappear
ing like silver ribbon in the distance-just
like the dear old Passaic River In front of
him, at the far end of a trio of arched bridges,
was the vast roof of the Louvre; it reminded
him of the roof of the rubber works back
home. And the Garden of the Tuileries! 1t
made him almost homesick for another
glimpse of First Ward Park.
Homesick! He shook off the shadowy sug-
gestion; for there was work to be done in
Paris, tedious work, the work of finding a
man named Clarke, w. Vaudeville Clarke,
and his reward was to be the exquisite de-
light of pounding Mr.. Clarke to pulp. AT
ter which they would sit down calmly and
discuss two or three matters of moment to
both of them. He had come all the way to
Paris to do this, and this he would do! 1t
had never occurred to him that Clarke might
be hopelessly lost in the labyrinthine wilder
nesses of the city, or that he might not be
in Paris. He would find him, because it was
meet and proper that he should find him,
and Mr.. Smith was blessed with firm be-
lief in the eternal justice of things.
He barred his great right arm and, looking
down on it compacently, fell to imagining
how Clarke would look when he had quite
finished with him. The mental picture he
conjured up pleased him so he smiled, and
snilingly he finished shaving. After which
came breakfast. Not puny little thing of
coffee and rolls, but breakfast with couple
of chops and three or four eggs, and innum-
cradle rashers of bacon. The waiter, who
spoke eating English, allowed his eyes to
grow round and rounder as Mr.. Smith Or
dered, and he stood by in a sort of trance
as Mr.. Smith ate. These Americans! What
commands they were! No wonder zey aire
re beeg and re husky!
THESE preliminaries disposed of, Mr.
Smith planted his hat upon his head
and started out to get toothhold upon
Paris. 1t was of no particular moment to
him that, as he passed through the Office,
the new clerk on duty glanced at him sus-
piciously and greeted him with a servility
that was wholly out of keeping with his sta
ton. 1t was of no particular moment that
the clerk didn't speak English,-Mr Smith
looked at him once, and knew that,-be-
cause, when he had exhausted the hotels
where he could make himself understood, he
would hire an interpreter and do the others.
IL WdS VI uO Pal IlCuIdI IIlOIIlcuC 10 IlIH
that the cunning black eyes of loiterer in
the lobby swept his rugged face in one COM
prehensive glance and took particular note
of the color of his hair after which the owner
of the eyes leisurely strolled out.
Maison de Treville, Rue Bonaparte! The
combination of words had aroused a cameo
cut recollection in his mind, because once,
half dozen years ago, that had been the
home in Paris of Miss Edna Clarke, the
daughter of the man he sought. 1t was odd
that he should be stopping at the same place,
odd; but upon reflection overnight Mr..
Smith could find nothing in it, save its oddi-
ty. Miss Clarke had lived there for nearly
two years with a chaperon while she was
completing her education; but there seemed
to be no reason why either she or her father
should be known at the Maison de Treville
now. He had been convinced by the night
clerks manner that Clarke was not living
in the hotel, and, anyway, if he found it nee
essary, he could 60 into the matter further
with the aid of an intc-r-eter.
Edna Clarke! She mu e twenty-four or
twenty-five years old now, and for no reason
he found himself wondering what she might
look like. Once upon time he had seen a
little picture of her, one of a group of laugh
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