Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1903-01-31 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

JANUARY 31. 1903.  the fugitive, who was a woman, flung herself upon me, clinging with a grip which I could not shake off, and I found myself in the midst of a shrieking., gesticulating throng. I gave all up for lost.  Somehow, we swept forward into the light. I had flung my cloak about my face, concealing it as well as I could, and was striving to find some means of escape, when a sudden cry, shriller than her former shrieks for justice, came from the woman at my side. She broke away from me, and, pointhig a bony finger, glared at the cloak I wore. A sudden silence fell on us all.  " ' Tis his ! 'tis his !" she screamed. "The Comte de Goncourt! Ah! villain, villain! The King shall know! He shall defend the poor widow! He—" I feared the woman. Not because of her frenzy, but lest she should utterly betray me. What she meant I did na know; I thought her mad. With a rapid movement, I clutched her arm, and tore her away from the group. "Come with me!" I whispered, fiercely, and so, before the astonished servants had time to recover themselves, I dragged her away. We were half a score of yards down the passage, when they moved. A door on the right caught my eye. I opened it, thrust my companion inside, and entered myself, not pausing to look round until I had made fast the door. When I turned, my heart leapt within me, for there, at the other end, stood de Tocqueville and Genevieve. At first we were all too startled to speak or move. Even Madame Fouguile had ceased her cries. But both Genevieve and de Tocqueville had Cued wondering eyes upon me, and gazed at me as I gazed at them. Presently I realised that de Tocqueville's attention was drawn rather to my attire than to myself. He was the first to speak. _  "Death and furies!" he cried, "what is this ?"  lii s voice released us all, as it were. Genevieve sprang towards me, and was claps.ed in my arms. Old Madame Fouguile raied her voice once more, her face distorted with malignant passion., her shaking forefinger directed now at de Tocqueville.  "Ali! what is it ?" she screamed. "Look well on it! The Comte's doublet, and your own cloak! Ah! thief, you stole them from me—you broke into my poor cottage and carried off my treasures, because you feared me. Fool that I was, I thought some nighthawk had broken in. Only an hour ago did I guess the truth. But the King shall know! Proof or no proof he shall know what you axe!" "Silence, hag!" thundered de Tooqueville. Yet his cheek was strangely white.  "Twill not be silent!" she cried. "You are a murderer, a murderer, a murderer! And these are the proofs!" In my excitement, I left Genevieve and strode up to her. 'Speak!" I said. you know." "At your peril, beldame!" came de Tocqueville's voice. She defied him.  "Tell me what  "He murdered the Comte de Goncourt," she mid, more quietly. " saw them together the day the Comte disappeared. That evening, as I passed through the woods I came upon these things—these, and a dagger belonging to hiin!" She indicated the furious man before her. "It was well known that the Comte wore a suit of vivid scarlet, and that M. de Tocqueville, ia mockery, wore as bright a blue. It made the jest of the Court, they said. The King had noticed it. I knew to whom the garments belonged, and I picked them up. The dagger had blood on it. I took them to my home, and hid them in a box clamped with iron. The neat day the Comte could not be found. I fell sick, and could do nothing. I would not share my secret. He left the Ch.a.teau, and they told me after