The Bismarck tribune., 1924-08-08

TO CATCH A THIEF
Copyright 1904. NEA Service I,

~ oSS0is w 'ho tuNS,. AoI IeSSVH
which should be obvious enough
it will be as we'll if, in these mem
oirs of mine, I refrain from attempt
ing to set forth my adventures il
their chronological order. All po
licemen are not fools; if ! shoult
trace, with too great exactitude, M,
various movements, dormant suspi
cions would become wakeful. Nor.
over, it is not my intention to pub
lish all my adventures. Il prefei
rather to confine myself to those in
cidents. which have in, them some
thing Of the unusual. In presenting
the history Of an artist, one does not
deem it essential to relate where he
purchased his brushes. And | am ar
artist.
Behold me, then, seated at n table
on the terrace Of the Cafe de Paris
slipping my coffee. K was the afro.
cious decoction, rather, which the
French call coffee. 1t is, this coffee
the only blemish upon an otherwise
charming people. And will con.
fess, with what hesitation may seem
suitable to the prejudices of the day
that l had mitigatcd it's bitterness
with some fin champagne. More
over, l had dined at Ciro's, and moth.
ing could efface the memory of tha,
marvellous repast.
The air was balmy. The tables
were crowded: 1t seemed as if all
the world had run away from his
wife and brought his sweetheart
here. For there was an air of ex-
citement, of careless gayety, that un.
fortunately is not too closely asso-
ciated with respectable dOmesticity
! could hear every tongue, save Ger
man, spoken; and ! strongly sus.
pected that the cultural French es.
sayed by certain ostensible Swiss
had been learned in Berlin. Fol
though the German is not given
even at this time in the worlds his.
tory. to denying his nationality, Mon.
te Carlo is worth transient trea.
son.
For moment l felt lonely. n
wished that I, too, were accompanied
by charming lady into whose ears
I could whisper. soft, batteries, and
into whose hands, later on, could
press the inlaid plaques wherewith
one stakes at roulette or chemin de
fer. But / put the thought from
me. The artist in crime must be
like Kipling's cat; he walks alone.
And in moments such as these
when l realize that certain things
are denied me, l seek for change, fo1
relaxation. And before me, outlin.
ed in electric lights, and shone cyai.
cally upon by the scornful stars above
loomed the great bulk Of the Casino
Excitement was not far to seek.
| raised my finger; my waiter
came to my side and presented the
small bill.
"Monsieur plays?" he smiled.
zone feels gratitude to the authors
of these glorious surroundings"
told him. Zone does not play; one
enters the Casino and pays for the
privilege of being here"
The walters smile was swiftly
sympathetic. monsieur is unfortu-
nate?"
l shrugged. "Does anyone ever win
here?" l asked.
, "Ah, yes, monsieur. The good
luck smiles on many" he assured
me.
= "Tll believe it when l see it,"
reterted.
"Then Monsieur would be we'll ad-
vised If he watched the play of the
Baronne d'Esterelle this evening.
Her luck has been phenomenal for
the past week. know, for one Of
my cousins is a croupier, and he has
told me. If Monsieur will note the
lady, at the second table to the right,
he will see her."
! followed the direction of his
glance. OF course the Baronne
d'Esterelle would be fortunate at
games of chance. God had given
her neither beauty nor charm; she
was grossly overfed woman, who
radiated vulgarity; suppose it is
only fair that such persons, devoid
of all other gifts, should be. lucky
l felt an instant desire to relieve her
of some of the priceless baubles that
beautiful in themselves, pitilessly
contrasted with her own ugliness.
$50 the little god smiles on her!'
l said to the waiter.
Luck, fike love, is blind, mon
siear," he replied. / like the French.
Even their lower classes are deft of
speech.
l looked at him. "You recommend
the Baronne's good fortune to me,
and yet that fortune does not seem
to please you." -