The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-08-09
WHITE AND UNMARRIED
 BY JOHN D. SWAIN
CHAPTER x At the ChOuard Farm.

Of the sinister FrdncO1Ss COnllhuSN from the Boulevard Rochechouart into the Boulevard de la ChapeIIe.
 past the Care due Nord. and at the Custom House swung down the Boule-
 yard de la Villette, with the DIG turesque Buttes Chaumont on their
 left. Lamps were being lighted as they swerved sharply to the left into the Rue de Bellevi1le. and by the time they passed out through the old Porte de Remainville, and headed for
 the village of that name. it was grow ing dark.
 As explained by DoroJhea, it was in an old farmstead on the outskirts of the village. near Pre- St. Gervais. that Chicoq and Marecha1 had hidden Andree. The house was known as the Chouard farm. Beyond this, Kane 1 could learn nothing. It was upon Victor that he relied for more definite directions.
 Obeying orders, their chauffeur drew up a little short of the square Of
 Romainville, on a side street; and Victor scrambled out to investigate. He returned in about 15 minutes. He had posed as one seeking relatives who lived. so he had said, "out near | the old Chouard farm" His hearers street loafers, a pork butcher. peasant woman with a brace of live ducks under her arms-could not. of | course, tell him anything concerning | his mythical relatives, for whom he | had chosen a very unlikely name, but | they readily described the Chouard | house, empty for a long time, but | for the last few days occupied by foreigners from the city.
 The taxi-auto resumed it's Journey. l now wholly under the direction of Victor.
 Remember, kid, not too near,'' warned Kane. They'd get wise pronto if a strange car stopped with | in sight or sound. I'll hoof it the last quarter"
 They slowed down now, feeling | it was difficult to believe were hardly out of sound of the roar of Paris.
 The houses were farther apart now, and little vineyards. orchards, and gardens, cultivated to the last leaf, separated them. They met a number of people-young folks arm in arm or roasting the walls, old peasants clattering home from market, the l village cure, his Tapping black sou tame scarce visible in the dusk. But as they drew out of Romainvil1e ana | toward Pre- St. Gervais the roads were | deserted, and there were long | stretches between the houses. Two Or three times they drew up, and Victor descended to scout about | for landmarks. On his last trip he | reported the Chouard farm about five
 minutes walk ahead.
 ''Close enough!" grunted Kane. | He oversaw Francois park his car beside the road; beneath clump of pop1ars. with all lights extinguished.
 Then he made a. final inventory of his | slender equipment, finding all in or l der. He retied his shoestrings = a | little thing like a loose shoestring man mean a 20-year srretch!-and | finally removed his coat and laid it on the seat in the tonneau. "Tell Francois to wait here, what
 ever he sees or hears,' he ordered. Victor did so in a torrent Of pas | sionate argot; and a moment later
 Kane was following the little chasseur up the dark road.
 The old Chouard farm. with its | wretched half-acre of market garden l last worked by the stepm mother of
 Marechal. differed from its neighb ors lonly in it's state of ruin. Built strong | ly of stone 1t presented a fairly cred | itable appearance from the outside, its closed wooden shutters concealing a plentiful lack of glass, its rotten | thatch the home of many wind-blown | seedlings, whose gay blossoms won | the admiring comment of passing | tourists. A stone wall surrounded it, | but the gate had long since gone for l fuel. A hundred yards from the en- | trance, a large oak tree shaded the
 road with it's low-f1ung branches; and | in their obscurity Kane bade the un- | willing Victor remain.
 'fI may send Andree out ahead of l me-" he explained. "It is necessary | that some one should await her to | conduct her to the car. If she comes,
 take her there as fast as she can run. | Wait ten minutes for me-or until you see Chicoq or his men in pursuit t-and then return to Paris as fast as
 that devel of a Francois can go.'' | Victor wriggled uneasily.
 | "But you. monsieur?"
 ''If I'm not here ten minutes after
 Andree, I shan't come at all. Do as | tell you, or I shall be sorry
 brought you. I have trusted you a
 good deal for a boy. Show mel" Victor muttered disconsolately, but
 betook himself to the shadows under | the oak tree. Kane moved up the | road alone.
 Accommodating a house was notn.
 ing new to him. Dozens of times he
 had done it. but never under just
 such circumstances. The occupants
 for one thing, would be to some exten
 on the lookout. They could moi
 know that their hiding place hat
 been discovered, but as lawbreaker.
 they were always furtive, apprehen
 sive, ready for trouble. A watch o,
 some sort would be kept.
 Kane's eyes, already beginning tt
 regain something of their old power
 of nocturnal vision, scanned every
 possible lurking place for an out
 post AS a result, he was a long time
 in covering the stretch of road from the oak tree to the corner of tn, stone wall which bounded the house Step by step he moved round thi
 wall. pausing at each corner to as
 sure himself that nobody was lying il
 wait for him with swift knife O.
 heavy club. At length he came tt 1, the gaping entrance where the olt gate had once stood.
 Here, If the adbuctors were at al suspicious, a guard might be looked for. Kane dropped to the ground