Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1917-12-07


We're crimes. lest of all came the
murder of young lie Vert, whom he had
snatched from his bride before the
honeymoon had passed. There being
no n present before whom his pride
would induce him to show his usual
braggadocio, he emitted a suppressed
groan.
1t seemed to him that it was answer
ed by a sigh-a wall, r~ather-from one
near him.
He opened his eyes.
There at the other end of the table,
facing him, her sad eyes bent upon
him, sat a woman. She was young
and beautiful, but she wore the garb
of a widow.
AS Fontaine lowered his hand from
his eyes 1t trembled. He had heard
no one enter. Was this the shade of
the widow of one of his victims? He
would have questioned her as to who
she was and how she came there, but
this man who had faced steel and lead
imperturbably was now deprived of
his voice.
The visitor sat like a statue, gazing
at him through a pair of lustrous eyes
that seemed to his excited imagination
to grow larger and larger, until they
enveloped his soul. He sat staring at
her as one paralyzed.
Finally her lips moved.
"You are supposed, monsieur, to have
fought your last fight. You have cele-
brated your retirement from the field
of your many murders; you have count
ed your victims. There Is one of
whom you have not taken note"
She paused. Fontaine. in an almost
inaudible voice, asked her whom he
had omitted.
yourself" was the reply.
Fontaine shuddered.
"Al Paris longs for your taking off.
You easily drove away strong men to-
night because they feared you. You
cannot drive me away, because you
fear me. You have celebrated your
last duel before the fact. 1t Is yet to
be-with a weak woman"
MAY l ask, madame gasped Fon-
tame, who it is that has honored me
with this visit?"
81 am Christine LIE Vert, the widow
of your last victim"
Again Fontaine shuddered.
you separated me from my husband
not a week after our marriage and
blighted my life. You are said to have
splendid nerve, NJ. Fontaine. 1t re-
mains for you to prove that you have
better nerve than one who is indiffer-
ent to existence"
81 cannot fight a woman"
This Is no test of strength nor of
skill. 1t Is a mere matter of nerve.
Therefore 1t is no stigma upon your
brilliant career to fight with me.
Come, NJ. Fontaine, let us begin. The
cocks will begin to crow soon, and you
must die before the first rays Of the
u gild the summit of Montmartre."
From under her cloak she produced
two pistols. They we're of the old
type, large and single barreled, with
fintlocks. One she toss ed to Fontaine,
the other she laid on the table before
her"
Madame" Fontaine began, 81 pro-
test
"a protest will avail you nothing.
monsieur. l have been sent to close
this career of yours as is BETTING.
You have shed the blood of some of
the best men in France. 1t is meet
that the end of your deeds should be
brought about by one of the softer
sex"
Fontaine slowly put out his hand
and as slowly clasped his fingers about
the weapon. A singular look came
upon his face-a diabolieal LOOKOUT
it vanished as quickly as it had come.
1t expressed a thought to raise the
weapon and kill his tormenter before
she could fire. That it. was only mo-
mentary was the only redeeming trait
in the fiend's career. He valued his
career too highly to end it by murder
ing a woman. His opponent read
what had passed in his mind, but it
had no visible effect upon her. Her
weapon lay before her on the table,
but she made no move to take it up.
"Who shall give the wordY' asked
Eonta1ne.
"You."
He sat still, benumbed.
"Come, NJ. Fontaine," said the lady.
You who have stepped. up so firmly
to so many trays are surely not going
to weaken at this browning exploit"
Fontaine raised his pistol with a
trembling hand.
"Give the word yourself" he gasped,
white as a sheet.
"One!" she said.
She raised her pistol,
"Twor'
She cooked it.
"Threei"
One shot rang out.
A gendarme passing without ran into
the building, upstairs and into the
room where the shot had been fired.
No living being was there. EOntaine