Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1911-01-03
L'HOMNIE SANS FIGURE
CTHE MAN WITHOUT "A FACE
BY ALBERT BolsslERE.
Translated from the French by Florence crewe-Jones
Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co.

Piled
/ ran quickly up the staircase, fear
ing another calamity.
I went into my daughters room.
She was lying on her white curtained
| bed and seemed to be asleep. Inere
was not movement Of the muscles
| Her face was like wax.
/ I took her hand in mine. A tiny en-
erald cleaned in a gold ring on her
finger.
"Evelyne! Evelyne!' called to her.
She did not move, and | saw that
she. was in, a dead faint.
Polydore was not in his room.
I,searched every room in the house.
He was not to be found. Then went
up in the loft, and I heard coming
from the farther corner prolonged
moan. went forward, cropping along
with, outstretched hands in the OBJ
scure light.
A hot trembling hand seized mine,
when a voice cried:
Mercy! Mercy!"
A cold .perspiration broke out over
my body. thought saw in the
darkness two shining specks which
were the eyes of my son. With firm
grip l held the hand, which opposed
only weak resistance, and drew from
the dark corner, where he was crouch
ing, haggard and trembling, my only
son Polydore.
At this tragic moment had the ex-
traordinary and singular impression
that it was IL, Barrabas, whom the
good neighbors called king OF
Fools''-who was the assassin Of my
own wife, and that it was who made
my son shake with terror, who had
caused the deathlike swoon of Eve
lyme. my little girl had not loosed
my hold ron my sons arm which l
|.held in a vice like clasp. l led him
to his mothers body.
Tell me, Polydore, what does it
men ?" demanded.
My big boy of twenty burst into a
foolish laugh: 1t was the laugh of an
idiot. Then he lisped:
!, Viola! The servant has gone to
Nogent to fetch the police
But who killed your mother? Who?
Who? Speak Polydore!"
ut was land it was not I! Don't
clutch my arm So Your fingers hurt
me. They are like grip Of steel.
will explain, and you will understand"
I let go my hold. Polydore staggered
like drunken man.
I seized the hammer, which was
sticky with the blood Of the unfortu-
nate victim.
That's it!' cried Polydore. ..Strike!
Strike! You can never understand.
She refused me five louis. Oh! 1t is
an ugly affair, and swear did not
m can to do It,"
For a moment my brain seemed to
reel. My forehead seemed as though
lit would burst. l fell weakly on the
sofa and my head dropped in my two
hands. Polydore leaned against the
wall and sobbed.
What did it mean? My boy, who un-
til now had fulfilled all our hopes, had
killed his mother because she had re.
fused him five louis!
He was studying law. We allowed
him the small sum Of 200 francs a
month, and he had always passed
among his associates for model
young man At home he was every
thing son should be, and his uncle
Marcadian, who had no exaggerated
sympathy for me, used to say, polk
ingly,. that the son was as wise as the
father was foolish.
Five louis! He knew that he had
only to ask me and would have given
him the sum. What did it mean?
1 remained dazed, looking at the
body stretched at my feet, peered in
to the unseeing eyes Of my dear wife,
examined again the horrible wound on
the temple, and then, as before, it was
her livid. contracted lips her eng
NAUTICAL mouth which held my gaze.
Her mouth seemed to command abso-
lutte silence on the crime. To counsel
me, to command me, to do what?
Something terrible! l could not say,
but must do it. I seemed to under
stand her mute appeal and grasp her
imperative wish The command was
insinuated in. a tightening fold of the
mouth-in fold stamped with a SUI
preme pity, and it was sealed on the
lips that were closed forever.
Hei. love for Polydore was her life,
and she showed me clearly with her
enigmatical mouth that on the other
side the Valley of Death her mothers
heart craved his pardon. In this mute
appeal she besought me not to be the
accuser of our son and to consp1re by
all means to save him from the punish
ment that justice would deal to him.
but by what means? All reasoning
had left me; my brain was Keeling.
Does Evelyne know the truth"
asked in a choking voice
"She knows ALL my son replied.
"And the servant?"
"She knows nothing
"Then why has she gone to Nogent?"
Because I told her to go. said to
her. Louise, my mother has been as
sassinated. found her dead in my
fathers studio
You are ready to make your con-
fession before justice and are prepared
to undergo the penalty that awaits
you?" | asked.
yes"
mo punishment can be bad
enough said fiercely. sat down by
the bay window which looked out
over my PRETTY garden. What did
Gabrielle wish me to do? I thought
for a long while, Their got up and
went to my desk and wrote the follow
ing letter to Maitre Marcadian, the
celebrated lawyer, who was my wife's
brother-a man whose deep character