New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1915-05-09

od 20 he a great friend of his had the mlser-
abio task Of arresting him and charging him with
,,rdor-for Rupert Fosdyke was dead; would
lava died under any one Of those half-dozen
sorcelv vindictve blows-Peridot was quite cheer
full.
Gre noml" he cried at is not often one finds
a snake hereabouts at Christmas time This one
made a mistake 1t shouldn't have come to Pont
Ayen, where we wear stout sabots"
Then he broke gaily into one Of Albert Larrieu's
Breton songs::
"Toc! toe! toe! tool
C'est a Concarneau
Qu'on volt de bellies files,
Prestes ct gentes,
Dams leur petits sabotslS
shut up, Peridot, for the sake Of the good
Codip muttered his friend. "Come, man! There's
YOUR mother looking out She heard your voice!"
as that you, Jean Jacques ?" a shrill cry
from a bent figure etched in the lighted rectangle
of an open door in a cottage higher up the hill.
Time you were home and in bed!"
Don't worry, mother, I'm in good company" he
shouted Here is the law on one side Of me, and
dead viper on the other I'll go straight to-
night never fesr!"
Mere Larraidou saw her son walk off down the
hill with his friend the sergeant In pity the men
who lifting corpse dessted from their
srewsome labor till the door was closed again.
Wien Ingersoll carried the body of an insens-
BILE and half-drowned woman into Mere Pitous
there rare stir.
By chance the lesser tragedy which took place
in the river beneath the line Of dwarfed oaks had
passed unnoticed by the villagers. Greatly won
dering, and wholly at a loss to account for his
wife's behavior, the artist had followed her into
the main road, and kept her under close observa-
ton when she failed to the bridge and hur-
red along the narrow street leading to the har-
Dor.
Once clear Of the last mill he could watch her
from greater distance because the valley widens
with the stream and the hills are neither so
high nor precptous. On and she went, past
Madame Marechae's cafe, past the triangular
grass plot where roundabouts and swings and
canvas theatres stand in the summer, past the
jolly little Hotel Terminus, and along the pctu-
rescue Chemin du Hallage, which is not a car
riage road, but pleasant footpath, bordered on
the one hand by pretty villas and on the other
by the tidal stream, with here and there beneath
the stunted trees rustic seat overlooking the
water
At such hour, long after midnight, the last
pollard oak marks the Ultima Thule of Pont Aven
The nearest house in front is nearly mile away
and reached only by a narrow track through the
gorse.
Some vague terror caused Ingersoll to quicken
his pace and few seconds later to break into
run. Perhaps his wife heard him, and. fearing
interference made up her mind TO delay the
great adventure not a moment longer Uttering
wailing cry, she threw herself into the water
The tide was falling. and as the main stream
travels close to the right bank at that point she
was swept away though some giant hand were
waiting TO clutch her.
Commenting his soul to Heaven, lngersoll raced
ahead to a rocky plateau which, although sub
merged now, drove a broad and fairly level cause
way far into the centre OF the river. He was
just in time. He saw a white face, hand, whirl-
ing in the current. Punging in, he grasped des