Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-05-07

Continued from page g

Continued from page g
taneously his hearing became acute, as it
often does to partly deaf persons in times of
great stress. The shock was followed by a
sort of stubborn resolution.
well, go ahead" he said grimly.
"How did he wrong you?" cried the re-
portorial bloodhound, trying a chance shot.
1t struck the bullseye. 1t brought forth
a passionate outburst. "He robbed me of
my patent and then left me to wither in this
forsaken hole! I've begged for justice, and
he's treated me with contempt'
"The trouble with you," said Curley, adj
justing his journalistic X ray to another
angle, "is that you've never gone to him in
person."
al have! l have!' was the excited retort.
"Why, only" He stopped short, realizing
too late that he had walked into the verbal
trap.
well" murmured the inquisitor softly,
you'll never have another chance to appeal
to him."
"Why not2"
"He's dead!"
"Dead!" exclaimed the inventor. $50 he
died."
NO." persisted Curley, che didn't die.
He was killed."
Fourier gave a shrek and put his arm
across his eyes, as though to ward off blow.
His left hand clutched the edge of his work
table for support. In doing SO it knocked a
hammer over on the floor. Slowly the
little man lowered his arm. He spoke pres
emily in a hushed voice. allow was he
killed."
Curley had made mental photograph of
the hammer as he entered the room. Now
he stopped ana picked it up and, facing Four
Iro,,,,t;co111 UWifh fbic
hammer"
The inventors white face turned shade
paler. He laughed; but his laugh was mirth-
less. "Mv friend is good actor"
Curley had become quite businesslike
now He turned to the old man decisively.
"Come!" he said. well finish this bushes
at the police station"
Chief Kelly instinctively felt for pair of
handouts.
Fournier recognized the significance of the
move. He shrugged his shoulders and
smiled wanly "Must go-as prisoner"
The journalist motioned to the detective
to hide the manacles. "You shall go-as a
guest he conceded.
The inventor reached up to hook and
brought down a short peajacket, such as
sailors wear. He put it on carelessly. Cur
ley's eyes were riveted on the garment. He
lOOkeu particularly dI tllc UulIOllS, -ldiSS,
smoked pearl buttons.
"What is it?" asked the old man, noting
the stare.
"The buttons-the last one is missing"
Fournier glanced at the place languidly.
al did not know it" he replied.
Curley pulled glistening thing out of his
pocket. He pressed it against the mans
coat. 1t matched the other buttons pre-
cisely.
"Well, Wat is it," asked the old man i'm
patiently.
ats the missing button"
@What of it?" was the calm response.
Nothing" said Curley slowly and in a
low voice, Except that it was torn from your
coat by John Thompson the moment before
he died"
Fournier staggered against the wall as
though he had been struck a physical blow
He recovered in a moment and said feebly,
dts no use, Gentlemen. You've got me.
l went to John Thompson's house to make
one last appeal. | was four days trying to
get an audience with him. Finally l met
him as he was coming out of the door of his
home. We went to his library together. He
charged me with attempted blackmail, and
said he was going to hand me over to the
police. In passion l pulled out this tool
and struck him behind the ear. He dropped
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