Cut Bank pioneer press. [volume] (Cut Bank, Mont.) 1909-current, 1914-09-25

Monsieur C~hampeaux to met" asked
the actress coming into life.
He is short, dark. and old, made
moiselle."
Rather is he not tall, blond and
young?" ironically.
The jailer concealed what annoy
anc he felt. In his way he was Just
as capable an actor as she was. The
accuracy of her description startled
him; for the affair had been carried
out sc adroitly that he had been posi-
tive that until her real captor ap.
peared she would be totally in the
dark regarding his identity. And here
she had hit it off in less than a dozen
words. Oh, well; it did not matter
now. She might try to make 1t un.
pleasant for his employer, but he
doubted. the ultimate success of her
attempts. However, the matter was at
an end as far as he was concerned.
Have you thought what this means ?
It is abduction. 1t is a crime you have
committed, punishable by long impris.
onment."
Il have been mademoiselle's jailer,
not her abductor. And when one is
poor and in need of money!" He
shrugged.
Il will give you a thousand francs
for the name and address of the man
who instigated this outrage"
All. he thought; then she wasn't so
sure? 81 told you the name, mademoi-
selle. AS for his address, / dare not
give 1t, not for ten thousand francs.
Besides, l have said that there has
been a mistake"
For whom have l been mistaken"
"Who but Monsieur Champeaux's
wife, mademoiselle, who is not in her
right mind?" with inimitable sadness.
Very WELL" said Nora. You say
that | am free. That is all / want,
freedom"
I'm twenty minutes the electric tram
leaves for Paris. You will recall,
mademoiselle," humbly, that we have
taken nothing belonging to you. You
have your purse and hat and cloak.
The struggle was most unfortunate.
But, think, ~mademoiselle, think; we
thought you to be insane!"
Permit me to doubt that! And you
are not afraid to let me go?"
mot in the least, mademoiselle. A
mistake has been made, and in telling
you to go at once, we do our best to
rectify this mistake. 1t is only five
minutes to the tram. A carriage is at
the door. Will mademoiselle be pleased
to remember that we have treated her
with the utmost courtesy?"
Il shall remember everything"
ominously.
Very good, mademoiselle. You will
be in Paris before nine" With this
he bowed and backed out of the room
as though Nora had suddenly made a
distinct ascension in the scale OF i'm
p%ortance.
"Wait!" she called.
His face appeared in the doorway
again.
DO you know who l ann"
Since this morning, mademoiselle."
THAT is ALL"
Freei Her veins tingled with
strange exultation. He had lost his
courage and had become afraid OF the
consequences. Free! Monsieur Cham
peaux indeed! Cowardice was a new
development in his character. He had
been afraid to come. She drank the
tea, but did not touch the toast or
fruit. There would be time enough
for breakfast when she arrived in
Paris. Her hands trembled violently
as she pinned on her hat, and she was
not greatly concerned as to the angle.
She snatched up her purse and cloak,
and sped out into the street. A phae-
ton awaited her.
"The tram" she said.
Yes, mademoiselle."
And go quickly" She would not
feel safe until she was in the tram.
A face appeared at one of the win
dows. AS the vehicle turned the cor
ner, the face vanished; and perhaps
that particular visage disappeared for
ever. A gray wig came off, the little
gray side whiskers, the bushy gray
eyebrows, revealing a clever face. not
more than thirty, cunning, but humor-
ously cunning and anything but scoun-
drelly. The painted scar aslant the
nose was also ~obliterated. With
haste the man thrust the evidences of
disguise into a travelling bag, ran here
and there through the rooms, all bare
and unfinished save the one with the
bars and the kitchen, which contained
W cots and some cooking utensils.
Nothing of Importance had been left
behind. He locked the door and ran
all the way to the Place d'Armes
catching the tram to Paris by a frac.
ton of a minute.
All very well done. She would be
in Paris before the police made n
definite move. The one thing that dis.
turbed him was the thought of the
blockhead of a chauffeur, who had got
drunk before his return from Yer
sailles. If he talked; we'll, he could
say nothing beyond the fact that he
had deposited the singer at the house
as directed. He knew positively moth
ing.
The man laughed softly. A thou
sand francs apiece for him and An
tome, and no possible chance of be-
ing discovered. Let the police find