The Roupell Mystery
By A uNs ty n
CHAPTER XVI. (Continued.)
"Have you ever known of a case where
t man was forced to commit an act
ifainst bia Inclination?"
"Certainly; but I have never known
f ita going to the length of a murder."
"Nor I, I must confess, though that
toes not prove that this was not just
uch a case though I don't believe it
was. But you will admit perhaps that
ne person's hold upon another maj be
trong enough to compel him to enter a
house for the purpose of stealing a
aaper."
"Certainly It might; and you would
xmtend, I presume, that this person hav
ing so entered the chateau, was com pel 1
d to riolence to escape the consequences
f detection?"
"Exactly," replied Cassagne. "Now the
lueation is, not who is the accomplice,
ut who is the principal? The principal
m the party primarily interested, and he
forces the accomplice to obey. The ao
sompllce, the mere tool, we cannot hope
to find first as we have no clue to him.
But we may reason as to who his prin
cipal is, and so we may find them both.
The accomplice will be found when the
principal la brought to light."
"Go on," again said D'Auburon, as the
detective paused.
"I can't go on," answered Cassagne.
"I hart just got so far and there I have
etuck. I am in the position of a hound
Uu kuiU A fui somewhere, but knows
not In what direction to look for him."
"But it seems to me that be cannot
be far off."
"Very likely. He may be right under
sur noses, and we not able to discover it.
But our opportunities for investigation
are not yet exhausted by any means.
There are two people who may be said
to be interested parties, sufficiently inter
' tsted to be instigators of the crime, and
ooth must be found, if possible."
"And they are?" N
"Henry Graham's wife and their son,
the latter of whom has long since grown
to manhood. Do not forget that, under
the American law, both of tbem would
inherit if Madame Roupell died intestate.
I shall now try and find tbem.
"Whom will you look for first?"
"The son for reasons too many to
enumerate."
"Where will you search for him?"
"In TarU."
"Why in Paris?"
"Brcause the priest told me the woman
ho brought him up went to Paris; be
tides he was a wild young fellow, and
' all wild young fellows come to Paris
tventually. It is simply a question of
time."
"Where shall you begin to look for
"Where all young men of his stamp
eventually are known. Take my word
for it, we shall find some record of Henry
Graham's son, Philip Graham, on the
records of the police."
CHAPTER XVII.
Shortly before ten o'clock on the fol
lowing morning, Cassagne and D'Auburon
entered the bureau, where under the di
rect supervision of the commissary the
records of the department of police are
preserved for future reference. Cassagne
was evidently well known to the officers
of the bureau. In a few minutes such
books and indices as he required were
placed at bis disposal.
D'Auburon stood by intently watching
his principal as he turned to the index
page of a huge volume. Reaching the
letter "G" he ran his eye rapidly over the
names, which were arranged in the order
of their date of entry. He started in at
the top of the page full of confidence;
as his finger traveled down the column,
however, his face grew perceptibly longer,
When he reached the bottom, lie gave au
dible expression to his disappointment by
- exclaiming :
"Philip Graham either was never un
der police surveillance at all, or he chang
ed ciis name when he came to Paris."
As the detective uttered these words,
an idea suddenly occurred to D Auburon
"Look inder the name of the woman
In whose charge he was placed. If be
took any other name than his own, what
more natnral than he should take hers?"
"That's a good suggestion," said Cas
sagne. "Her name was Marie La Seur,
as I recollect it yes, that was It Marie
La Seur. I'll trouble you for that 'L'
volume."
D'Auburon banded it to him, and the
eearch commenced afresh. Presently Cas
sagne exclaimed :
"Here is Philip La Seur. I shouldn't
' hi surprised if you were right. Page
fifty-three." -
"HI on a minute. Don't be disap
pointed If it shouldn't prove to be the
a"!:.. Lu Seur is a common enough name,
there are over two millions and a
If of peoplo in Paris to draw from,
'e's w fifty-three; now let me see
w..nt it sys."
The two men leaned over the book as
tuey scnuued the page before them. Then
they read:
"Philip La Seur, placed under police
surveillance by order-of the commissary."
"We have him 1" exclaimed D'Auburon,
In tone of triumph. "We have him
vow, for certain."
"Not too fast, my friend ; not too fast.
Let's see what this foot note is."
At the bottom of the page was written
In red ink :
"Toulon, seventeen years, forgery."
An expression of Intense disappoint
ment spread Itself over the face' of the
' detective. D'Auburon, also, understood.
Philip La Seur could have served out
wot little more than half hi sentence.
Q r a n v i 1 1 e
Consequently be could have had no hand
lc the commission of the crime.
For a few minutes both men were en
tirely nonplused. At length Cassagne,
who bad again been thinking deeply, ex-
cluimed : '
I shall not be satisfied until I have
examined the state papers relating to this
trial, at the conclusion of which Philip
La Seur was sent to Toulon."
"You will waste your time," replied
D'Auburon.
"I shall not How do you know there
may not have been a commutation of sen
tence r
"I must confess that did not even occur
to me."
"Well, It occurred to me; and in any
event it will be time well spent to look
over the record of the trial. Philip La
Seur may have called witnesses to testify
in his own behalf to speak, for instance.
of his former good character--and who
knows what we may learn from them?
bo out and get a cab, while I take down
the number of the case and put away
these books.
"To ihp PAloi. ita IniHra''
As they ere about to step into a cab, a
newsboy approached them, crying:
"Horrible murder! A body found in
the Seine!"
"Buy a paper, D'Auburon," said Cas
sagne, as he leaped into the vehicle.
D'Auburon did as requested, and jump-
Is; lsto the cab after his friend, jresd
the sheet just wet from the press out
i
ujkju iiis Kuees.
"Ah!" he ejaculated, "this plot thick
ens with a vengeance. Whom do you think
the murdered man. is?"
"I cannot guess." '
"It is Vougeot, the detective whom the
prefect of police placed on the track of
Jules Cbabot"
It was not a voluminous document, the
report of the trial and conviction of
Philip La Seur. To be sure, no one from
a perusal of it could have argued the
identity of the prisoner In the case with
the Philip Graham of Belliers. But were
the facts gleaned from the evidence con
clusive? Certainly not. There were
points of identity, however, which were
quite marked ; the age of the prisoner
nearly corresponded with that of the man
they were looking for ; he bad not been
all bis life in Paris ; he had neither father
nor mother living but beyond that there
was little enough about his family his
tory. The court had offered to appoint
a lawyer to defend him, which offer the
prisoner had refused and had made a not
unable speech in his own behalf, which
in all likelihood bad been the means of
sensibly Influencing the court, for in
pronouncing sentence, the judge had ex
pressed his regret that the prisoner bad
misused his talents to commit the crime
with which he stood charged. Though
be examined all the papers, connected
with the ease, Cassagne was unable to
discover anything by which the identity
of the two persons could be more fully
established.
"We have yet the locket," he said, at
length, men perhaps may help us.
"But it is the locket of Henry, not
Philip Graham," said D'Auburon.
"I have not forgotten .that," replied
the detective. "But a family likeness is
a strong thing sometimes. This portrait
of Henry Graham is undoubtedly -a good
likeness. Recollect that Dr. Mason, the
laundress, the janitor at Blolg and the,
priest at Belliers nave all recognized it as
his portrait It was taken when he was
quite a young man. Sometimes father
and son, at the same age, very closely re
semble each other. If there should be a
strong likeness between the portrait and
Philip La Seur whom should you take
the latter to be?"
"Why, Philip Graham, of course, as we
have all along hoped; but what of that?
We have no portrait with which to com
pare it"
"You forget," replied Cassagne, "the
admirable collection of photographs at
police headquarters."
"Whicb is under the strict surveillance
of the prefect of police. Do ypu sup
pose ue would allow us to look at them,
when our sue ess means his defeat? Not
exactly; why, we could never get beyond
toe aoor."
"I will take care of that," replied M.
Cassagne.
M. Cassagne, on parting with his
friend, buttoned up his coat with the
air of a man who prepares himself for
energetic action, and passing across the
river, plunged Into the most intricate re
cesses of the Latin Quarter. Before
crossing the river, however, he had stop
ped at a famous confectioner's and our-
chased a box of .bon-bons. What did M.
Cassagne want with such things?
Arrived at a house in the Rue Bat
tlney, M. Cassagne stetroed inside th
hallway and pressed his finger on a small
white button. The sound of an electric
bell ringing upstairs was almost Immedi
ately followed by a voice exclaiming
down the speaking tube:
"Who Is there?"
"Is that Madame Cresson?" Innnlrefl
the detective, In a low but distinct voice.
"It is."
"I am Alfred Cassagne. .Let me mm.
upstairs. I want to see you about lm.
portant business."
A clanging sound was heard, ant .
black door which had hitherto prevented
Ingress to the-stairway, released by a
spring, swung slowly back upon Its
hinges. The detective stepped on to the
stairs, and, closing the door after him
with some care, ascended to the second
story.
A email, dark-complexioned woman.
apparently about twenty-five years of age,
opened tne aoor or one ot the apartments,
and invited him to enter. The room was
neatly furnished and was evidently one
of a suite. At a table near one of th
windows a little girl sat doing gums on a
slate. She had the black hair of her
mother; a beautiful, saucy, piquant
mouth ; eyes of a deep, scintillating blue ;
and a little figure that was the very per-
leciion oi ehiidiKh grace. She arose on
the entrance of the detective, and ran
toward him, holding out both hands.
"Ah!, Papa Alfred, how do you do?"
she exclaimed. "Have you brought me
some bon-bons?"
"A kiss first" cried the detective, lift
ing her in his arms.
Mile Celeste Cresson having complied
by placing both arms around his neck
and putting her charming mouth to his,
he set her down on the floor and bade
her search for the bon-bous, in the course
of which she brought to light a great
many articles of Papa Cassagne's pecu
liar calling, all of which she placed in
her apron, declaring she would never sur
render them.
At length, having found her bon-bons,'
her playmate was at liberty to address
himself to the young mother, who all
this time had been standing by clapping
her hands, and seemingly evincing as
much delight when a wig or a pair of
handcuffs was unearthed from the depths
of the detective's capacious pockets, as
the child herself.
Mme. Rosa Cresson, from whose face
all trace of amusement had now vanished,
and who sat easily in her chair prepared
to listen to the detective, was a woman
with a history. Married at an early age
and cruelly deserted by her husband, she
had been thrown upon her own resources.
There were many occupations open to her
by which she could have earned a living.
She cnnld rmv found employment In
dressmaking had she chosen, for she was
an expert with her needle. She could
have taught the piano, or set up as a
translator of foreign documents, for she
was a very fine linguist. Her personal
charms and -accomplishments were great
enough to have induced many a theat
rical manager to take her up, and proba
bly she would have drifted on to the stage
if it had not been for a slight incident
which turned her from It, and presenting
an opening In an entirely new field, de
cided her to adopt her present calling.
. One day she entered the Bon March
to do some shopping. She had made ber
purchases, paid for them and had reached
the door when a heavy hand was laid
upon her shoulder. Turning, site was con
fronted by one of the floorwalkers, who
accused her of taking a piece of silk-from
the counter. Indignant at the charge, she
made an impassioned appeal, on the spur
of the moment, to a gentleman standing
near. Her appeal was successful. The
gentleman accompanied her into the office
of the manager, became voucher for her
honesty, and offered if given half an
hour's time to produce the stolen prop
erty. The time was accorded him, and
he left the office, to retnrn with the piece
of silk in question, which be bad com
pelled a notorious female shoplifter to
disgorge just as she was being bowed out
by an obsequious shopman to her carriage.
. "You had better strike the Marquise de
Brabant from your books, monsieur," he
had observed, laconicnlly, when the man
ager Insisted that one of his best, cus
tomers had been Insulted.
"That woman's real name Is Bergeretu
I thought everybody knew her. Now you
will please pay this lady five hundred
francs, and let her come with me. I can
promise you she will institute no action
for damages."
The manager was thunderstruck.
"Who are you?" he gasped.
- "I am Alfred Cassagne; you may hav
beard of me. Good morning."
Then he took little Celeste Cresson In
his arms and, accompanied by the frate
ful young mother, left the store. She
was half fainting when he lifted ber into
a cab. He felt that It would be sheer
brutality to leave ber. He seated him
self beside her, and bade' the driver seek
the address she gave him. On the way
Mme. Cresson sat up and told him her
sad history. She must find work soon,
she confessed, for her money was nearly
exhausted. Then it was that he told her
how to enter a new profession.
"The proprietors of all those large
stores would give you business, if I spoke
to them. I also will give you employ
ment." That was how Mme. Cresson became a
female detective, aud at the time of this
Interview had become the most famous in
her line in PariB.
(To be continued.)
Motherly Wisdom.
Anxious Mother Mr. Willing may be
a gentleman, my dear, but you can't
afford to marry a man who wears plat
ed links In his cuffs.
Pretty Daughter But how do yotj
know that be does, mamma?
Anxious Mother Whenever ho colli
In the evening you have black streaki
on your shirt waist the next morning,
Her Wlh.
Tess Yes, I wish all men were bach
elors.
Jess What! How could we get mar
rled If they were to be?
Tess Oh ! I don't mean permanently
but Just long enough to learn to sew
on buttons and to mend their clothes.-
Philadelphia Press.
It Hurt Him.
"Gee whizz! I wish I could find thi
fellow who stole my umbrella "
"Oh ! cut It out ! Why do you mak
a fuss over a little thing like that?"
"Little thing? Why, man, I aetuallt
bought that umbrella." Philadelphia
Press.
You don't have to be a1 caroentM ts
build a fortune. I
I
THE GRANGE.
Secretary for Washington relit cf
Benefits to Be Derived'
By Fred W. Lewis. Secretary Washington State
Grange. Tumwater, Wubinrton.
The Grange has, for forty yeais,
stool forjhe npliftment cf the farmer.
and we only have to look back, over
its hirtotjr, to see what it has accom
plished for ns.
It Ib to the Grange that we owe the
rural mall delivery, the oleomagarine
bill, the denatured alcohol law, and in
many btates it has forced the passage of
better tax laws, and other laws that
assist in giving the farmer the benefits
ot his labor.
Nor is the work of the Grange alone
directed to the urging the passage of
laws. It becomes needful to prevent
the passage of some laws that would be
detrimental tc the best interests of the
fnrmi'r, and that is a part of the work
(he Gtange dees.
Space will not permit ma to go into
details, but anyone may obtain the de
tails by asking for them.
Although we take an interest in the
legislative work of our people, we also
benefit them in many ways besides.
To the young man and wiman, we
offer a chance to gin pleasure and
profit in the meetings of the Grange, ae
we carry on our meetings in strict par
liamentary manner, providing we get
the right person for Master, and so give
them a chance tx learn how Buoh work
is done. We also have literary pro
grams, providing we get the right per
son for Lecturer, an4 ao give them a
chance to ptactioe speaking in public,
and appearing on the rostrum before an
audieuoe, ail oi whioii is a Imuelit to
any young or, in fact, an older pereon,
too, in these times of public awakening.
To the father and mother, who are
the providers for a family, it gives them
a chance to pnrohase their needed sup
plies in connection with their brothers
and sisters, and so gain the advantage
that is to be derived from wholesale
dealing.
To the home owner, it provides a safe
and snie, as well ae cheap insurance for
his property, and any member of the
Grange, who is attached to any subor
dinate Grange is entitled to that benefit.
Our insurance is carried at exact cost,
and we are laying by no surplus to be
lost by poor investments, oi by tbe dis
honesty of tbe officers, but we keep
enough on bands at all times so that
we can pay all losses prompt'y, upon
the proof being sent in.
In life insurance we have none to
offer that will answer the demands of
the great majority of our patrons, but
we are working on a plan, that will ul
timately furnish ns a life insurance as
well as a property insurance, and on
the same basis, that of actual cost.
In the line of purchasing and selling,
we are not as well organised as we
would like to be, but as the dealers are
all in combines, and tbe commission
men are all united by common consent,
it behooves us, as farmers, to combine
if we would protect our own interests
and obtain the just rewards for our
labor and enjoy the better accommoda
tions that we might have if we could
obtain the real fruits of our labors.
In the Grange we place woman where
she belong1, on an equality with man,
and so make our order a truly social
one, and or Grange work includes the
enjoymentof the fruits of onr labors, as' Bhap0i for that wm en8
well as the education of the mind, and lf tue lece wero g, a fc,
the guarding of the puree. on the section of an apple.'
In conclusion let me state the pur- , ., . , , . .
po?es of t).e Grange, as set forth in the ' e T 8 tbat ", abso ute re
declaration of purposes adopted by thelllabe 'abr c h'19 yet b,M!n "'vented,
founders o( the order: i and there Is always the possibility of
To develop a higher and better man- lbe balIoon Should this hnp-
hood and womanhood among ourselves.
To enhance the comforts and attractions
I of the home, and strengthen our attach
ments to our pursuits. To foxter mu
tual understanding and co-operation.
I To maintain inviolate our laws, and to
I emulate each other in labor, to hasten
the gcod time coming. To reduce out
expense", both individual and corpor
ate. To buy lees and produce more in
order to make our farms self sustaining.
To divereify our props, and to crop no
more than we ran cultivate. To con-
aense the weluht ot our exports, sellins i
less in tbe bushel and more in hoof and
in fleece, and less in lint and more in
warp and woof. To systematize our
work and calculate intelligently on
probabilities. To discountenance the
credit system, the mortgage system,
the fashion system, and every other
system that tends to prodigality and
bankruptcy.
We propose meeting together, talk
ing together, working together, buying
together, selling together, and in gen
eral, acting together for our mutual
protection and advancement.
If we, as farmers', become organized,
we have the power to ask for what we
want and to get it, because we have the
numbers, and all thac is required is the
union that is the means of unifying
that power.
Think the matter over, and decide to
crganize a Grange and so help to make
this world more worth living In.
Rlea Blase Manara,
Boll three-quarters of a cup of rlca
tn milk in a double boiler. - When cook
ed, add a half box of gelatin dissolved
In a little cold milk, add sugar and
vanilla to taste. When cold, beat In
a quart of cream that has been whip
ped to a stiff froth. Set In a wet
mold In the Icebox to form. Servo
with raspberry Julca poured over It
Backache.
Pain In the back Is one of the mosi
common Ills affecting the human fam
ily. At the same time It Is one of
the most-puzllng to trace Its origin and
the most difficult to relieve. Many
acute diseases have this symptom In a
marked degree, such as smallpox, ma
laria, spinal meningitis. Influenza, and
a host of others, but In these cases the
cause Is evident and the condition
soon disappear. The backache of renal
colic, gall stone and simple stomach
ache Is acute and rapidly disappear
when the gravel or gall stone has pass
ed or the colic relieved. It Is, however,
different with the chronic form, which
so often defies the skill and Ingenuity
of the physician, and exhausts with Its
persistent and wrenching pain the pa
tience of the sufferer.
The conditions which produce the
chronic backache are so numerous that
a simple list of them would fill tha
space that can be devoid to this ar
ticle, hence only the most prominent
will be touched upon. The disease may
be In the spine Itself, In the spinal
cord, In the muscles or nerves of tbe
back, or In the abdominal cavity, but
perhaps the one most commonly respon
sible, In these classes of cases, ts lo
comotor ataxia. This affects the pos
terior part of the spinal cord and la
extremely painful. When of muscular
origin, pain In the back Is known as
lumbago, a rheumatic condition of the
lumbar muscles.
The discovery of the source of pain
In these local affections of the bone,
muscles and nervous tissue Is not dif
ficult ns a URual thing, but the problem
Is more difficult when the pnln Is mere
ly a reflex of some Internal disorder.
It Is often necessary to Interrogate
each Internal reflex point In turn be
fore the starting point of the pain can
be definitely stated.
Here Is the field In which the quack
renps his greatest harvest, dilating
upon the terrible diseases of the kid
neys and other organs to which bnck
nche surely points (It Is well known
by physicians that kidney dlsenscs usu
ally cause little pain) and which can
only be relieved b.v his Infallible rem
edy too often cloaking oplutu or soma
other enslaving drug. This cose Is sel
dom so serious as the quack would
have his victim believe. It Is, how
ever, wise for a sufferer with persist
ant backache to consult a physician.
MAKING A BALLOON.
The War It la Patched, Varnlahea
and Powdered.
A balloon consists of patches of cloth
about a yard square sowed securely to
gether. This Is not because of any dim-
cultv In maklne- the fni.ri. f ikia.
I t0 one r tne!le P1"-''"'". the escape
of gns will not be dangerously rapid,
ns It would be lf larger sections were
used.
When the balloon Is made It Is care
fully varnished, three coats being given,
and each being allowed to dry thorough
ly before the next Is applied. If one
coat Is left moist the fabric v. ill be at
tacked by a species of dry rut, which
Rill make It as fragile as the paper this
h printed on. In the early days of
i ballooning manv fatal accidents were
due to this defect, but now the utmost
care Is exercised.
When a balloon Is packed up for a
Journey, powdered chalk Is sprinkled
between the folds, as otherwise they
would stick together and tear. Pear
son's Weekly.
A Perplexing Bulletin.
In 1870 the late John Hay, who died
as secretary of state, and Alvey A.
Adee were Bervlng together In the le
gation at Madrid. They were Intense
ly Interested In the outcome of the Re
publican national convention and spent
rlnys wondering who would be nomi
nated. Otic morning they found this
Item in a Madrid newspaper: "Rute
bart 13. Noyes of America has been
elected president of the republic of tbe
north."
- That was as near as the Spanish ed
itor could get to the bulletin, "Ruther
ford B. Ilnyes has been nominated for
president by the Republican national
convention," and It took Adee and
Hay a week to figure It out.
The Worst He Had.
"Then you have never had educa
tional advantages?" said a good wom
an to a small boy.
"No, marm, not as I knows of. I've,
had alryslpllns. If what you said l
wors'n that I don't want to ketch It,"