The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1912-08-30

z.
BIRDS had no marked tree to roost in;
besides, this person was probably Mad
anne GLADYS by now, or Estelle some
tnlng or other. l could not go back
to Mason for further light. He would
stare at me and walk away. My d.
rectlons We're accurate; find Madame
Versay first and then go to Richmond.
l turned up the collar of my great
coat, and went down for conference
with the omnfscent Scally. I found
him directing commerce with the ges-
lures of Roman praetor. I daxted
past the row of cabs to his island Of
safety and seized his hand A mo-
ment later, when the tide had passed,
he took my bill from between the I'M
gers of his glove and held it under his
broad thumb; then he smiled benignly.
"Misther Parks" he said, "'tis the
speed limit you are after wishin' to
exceed?"
NO." said; 81 am the King of the
Golden Mountain on the quest of a
fairy"
Go along; you're foolin'," he said
by no means" l answered; Il want
to find Madame Versay."
He whistled softly. Madame ver-
say, is It! 'Tis only the devil that
knows where she is now, but where
she'll be at one tonight, tits Scally that
knows as well as the devil. In dago
cafe on the Bowery, which is next door
RI Daddy Morop,o dopoa boIl che will
be atm and drinkin' and carryin on.
She's bad one, this Madame Versay
'Tis back to the tall weeds your friend
Scally would advise you to be goin'."
At half-past twelve that night,
found Madame Versay, and the cafe
called "dago" by my friend Scally. 1t
was a fragment of Paris, transplanted
to the Bowery by Monsieur Popinot,
an oily, obsequious little creature from
the Montmartre. He came running out
to the curb to bow me ir-the COM
ing of a hanson was an event
He enumerated his wares with true
Latin enthusiasm. His caviare had
arrived that y day. 1t w"s mag
nifique," and his wines! ah, monsieur,
he alone in all this raw land had
wines! His brother Anselem hunted
France, nosed it, fingered it, tasted it,
that he, Popinot, might have cham
payne, fragrant like those little mead
ows nesting at the foothills of the
Pyrenees. Burgundy, red like the pop
pies in the wheat fields of the Disc;
and absinthe-here language failed
him. He clasped his hands, "Ravis-
sante, monsieur"
Madame Popinot, who presided over
the cash drawer by the door, beamed
upon me as l entered. She was a
daughter of the little shops along the
Seine, fat and vigilant, knowing in
stantly If the newcomer had the price
of glass Of wine in his pocket. A
virtue Of the highest order to her;
doubtless the only one remaining.
l selected little table by the wall,
and. not wishing to be poisoned, or
dred a bottle of bass ale and and
plate Of dry biscuits, wiping out Po-
pinot's disgust with generous tip.
The place was evidently a Bohemian
mosphere was a stencil of tobacco and
sour wine, the floor was freshly sprink-
led with new sawdust. The chairs
and tables were of metal. Iron alone
could resist large primitive emotions
when they got in action. The crash
of an elbow, the heave of heavy boot
toe, did not wreck wire chair. It
could be Strengthened presently In the
crack of a door. The place was fill
ing up with jetsam from the under
currents of New York. Gentlemen go
ing swiftly down to the sill of the
world, beasts coming up from it, get
somehow into evening clothes, sat well
together under Monsieur Popinot's
many-colored lights. 1t was the de-
pravity of Paris without touch of its
seductive esprit. The naive, mischiev-
Gus greeting Of the Moulin Rouge and
the Folie Bergere, "Je vous aime, dom
nez-moi cling francs" was not here
This place was an oak for crows.
wondered on what limb of it perched
Madame Versay.
was about to summon the good
Popinot to my assistance, when q
young man, very drunk, came In, &C
companied by a woman In q superb
opera coat. They took the table op-
posite to mine. The young man wore
a soft SLOUGH hat, which he promptly
threw on the floor. Then he began to
hammer on the table with the ferrule
of his walking stick and shout, 'Heah,
heah, Popinot, you old dog, bottle Of
Burgundy for Madame Versay. It's
the wine Of love and laughter"
My eyes went instantly to the wom-
an. She was medium-size, conspicu-
Gus blonde, with a rather trim figure,
excellent arms and throat, made the
most of by a low gown of black vel
vet Her complexion was the usual
sort to be had from boxes and paint
pots. Her mouth was q perfect cupids
bow, and exquisite. Her nose was
bourgeois, but not obtrusive and not
bad. Her eyes, however. were utterly
bad. They reminded me of cold tai
low. Her bright yellow hair was coil
ed on the top of her head to give an
effect of height and to lengthen her
face While her companion was un-
speakably drunk, this woman was cold
ly sober. She constantly refilled the
mans glass, but scarcely tasted her
own. was evidently spectator at the
epilogue Of quarrel which Madame
Versay was striving to drown In the
mixture Of alcohol and claret that Po-
pinot sold for Burgundy. She spoke
almost in whispers. but now and then
the mar broke out In a voice that