Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1917-07-05

1t was some fifteen minutes later
when NJ. Dumas raised his head from
the window-sill and looked about him.
Before his eyes stretched out the
endless vista of roofs and lighted
windows which constitute New York's
aspect at night. He drew n deep
breath of the cool, life-giving air and
turned to the girl beside him.
She was still unconscious, but her
faint breathing showed that she lived.
He rose and, going into the tiny
kitchenette at the rear of the apart
ment, sought frantically for some
thing which might serve to revive her.
At last, on one of the shelves of
closet he came across a brandy bottle,
in the bottom Of which there still re-
mained small quantity of the liquor.
He divided this into two parts,
pouring it into a couple of glasses he
found in the shelves; and, after drink
ing one portion himself, hurried into
the front room and forced the con-
tents of the other glass between the
girls blue lips.
Her hands had already begun to
grow cold; he chafed them roughly
between the palms of his own.
After time her breathing became
deeper and more regular. She moved
her arms, her body, restlessly. Then
her eyelids fluttered-her eyes open
ed and she gave great shuddering
sigh.
Dumas drew back with an exclama-
ton of joy. He saw that the worst
was over. Lifting her in his arms, he
placed her on the couch, threw open
the other window, and brought her a
glass of water.
She thanked him feebly, but he
could see from the rapidly returning
color of her cheeks that she was now
beyond any danger.
His own strength had come back to
him, and with it came renewed de-
termination to find and bring to JUS
tice this man Hartmann, who called
himself Charles Vernon, and who had
not only murdered his companion,
Reinhardt, but had so nearly ended
the lives of Mile. Mercier and him.
self.
His first step was to make thor
ough search of the several rooms, in
the hope that there might remain in
them some clue, however small, which
would serve to definitely connect the
so-called Charles Vernon with Hart
mann, the rheumatic passenger of the
Richelieu.
The latter's appearance was not in
itself sufficient. Dumas's accusation
made to the man himself an hour
before had been mere guesswork.
As matter of fact, with the possible
exception of Grace Duvall, no one had
seen the man Hartmann after his
rapid escape from the Hotel Rocham-
beau. Whether Charles Vernon was
really Hartmann or not Dumas did
not know.
His search of the apartment result
ed in nothing. All the papers in the
place had been burned, and now lay
in a blackened pile upon the tiling of
the hearth.
For the rest the apartment con-
tanned but few books, inscribed with
Tue udlue VI EeOISS NSTuOI, Tue QSaU
purser, and a bureau and closet in
which were the usual articles of
clothing.
If there had been anything of value
in the place, such as silver toilet arti-
cles or pieces of bric-a-brac, the man
and woman had apparently removed
them.
The small desk contained nothing
except few receirted bills and some
laundry lists. The scrap-basket was
empty.
Realizing that it would be some
little time before Mile. Mercier would
feel able to leave the place, Dumas
continued his search with the utmost
care, but not a thing of any impor-
tance rewarded his efforts. He was
about to give up in disgust, when,
glancing by chance at the pile OF
charred papers on the hearth, he saw
that portion of the edge of one OF
them had not been entirely consumed
He separated the brown and charred
leaves with the utmost care. In the
center of the mass, to which the fire
had not entirely penetrated, lay a