Widnes Examiner. — 1909-05-15 (Widnes, Cheshire, England)

CHAPTER XXXI.  [Henry Gastonard sends Paddy O'Connell seine account of his labours in Paris.) Hotel St. Paul, Paris. October 19th, 1905. Dear Paddy,—Your letter speaks of a good heart and a true 'friendship, In your own words, God bless you for it. I cannot tell you what I have suffered during these terrible days. There are few to whom I would speak of it. Sometimes I wish to God that I could wake no more. The world- moves about me as a rushing sea of which I am afraid. I fear for my very reason.  Consider it all and bear with me. 1 was the happiest man in Europe before this trouble came. Nothing in life- but Mimi mattered then. Oh, Paddy, if I could tell you what it was to have her always with me— to wake each day and find her head upon my pillow, to sleep with her white arms about my neck. None of us knew her a little bit in the old deys. But, Paddy, I learned to knew her; I learned the truth which few men learn—the secret was mine—the sweetness of it past belief. And to say she is gone from me! If she were dead, the bitterness of the truth could not be more poignant. I think of every city as her prison; I pass no house in Paris that I do not say, If Mimi were there! A thousand suppositions of life and death torment me every day. Does she know what I suffer? Is it not possible that she will send a message to me? Day anewers nothing—the nights are silent. I can butewait and pray. You say that you arrived in London upon the morning after my departure. Ido not ask you to come to me in Paris, because I know not whether Paris will be my home tomorrow, or some other city to which destiny may lead me. Be sure that I am prepared for anything. I work with Jules Farman literally from the rising of the sun until midnight. We have visited more dens in Paris than I would have numbered for all the slums of France. And 'we know no more than the meanest servant of the police, who writes his theories in five folios, where my wife is hidden, or what this stupendous mystery may be. You will have read my letter in the English papers, and I have little to add to it today. It was my purpose to remove the coWardly suspicions which hover about the name of one of the purest of women, and thie I believe that I have done. Is it not monstrous to see how ready the world is to doubt a woman's honour, how willing to anticipate her guilt. No reason governs the tongue of scandal, nor does iustice .curb it. Here was a pretty •French girl—she is immoral, says slander. A man visits her—a man she has never seen before—he is her lover, says the multitude. He is foully murdered in her house—she must be the murderess. An English police, never clever when any gift of subtlety is demanded, will accept no story but the one which ministers to its love of the commonplace. A French police, readier to look further afield, still believes that the Count was Mimi'e lover. And _ I am alone against these. My love can but speak in a voice which the clamour of convietion would .drown. Ah, Paddy, if I could but call these slanderers one by one before me; could compel them to answer me; could wring a cry of justice from their throats. For I alone knew what Mimi was, and alone I must defend her. I have. told you that we vieitcd many of the dens upon the further side of the Butte. Our reward is some story old the disappearance of the notorious ruffian. Jean-le-Mont. and of his aforetime accomplice Baiele-Due the apeCilee This wee Icamed at ti4Q cad