Newspaper Page Text
Ldr/Gras
Mtery
9
By
H. gfORD-JONES
9
f jDonbMar. f*n uJ Cmapvn
C ,/TER IX—Continued.
—l3—•
"Boo lie d —d!” snorted the chief,
an d leal forward earnestly. “Look
hero if Do y° u believe In your
; j iear t J Maillard killed his father?”
Fe il 1 silent a moment under that
Intent /utiny.
“ F J the evidence, lam forced
agalupy will to believe it,” he said
at la/ “Of course, he’ll be able to
proviat he was not the Masquer on
prev/s occasions; his alibis will take
caref that. Up to the point of the
mu if, his story is all right. And,
my pend, there is a chance —a very
slii/tenuous chance —that his entire
stoj is true. In that case, another
peiju must have appeared as the
JlJuer, which seems unlikely— ’’
fr else,” put in Ben Chacherre,
snhthly, “the real original Masquer
slwcd up!”
lere was an instant silence. Ja
eW Fell regarded liis henchman with
st dy gray eyes. Ben Chacherre met
tl; look with almost a trace of defi
ne. The chief frowned darkly.
l'es,” said the chief. “That’s the
sit of it. Fell. You’re keepin’ quiet
ariut the name of the real Masquer;
My?"
f'Because,” said Fell, calmly, “I hap
nn to know that he was in the audi
tlriuni at the time of the murder.”
(Asa in silence. Ben Chacherre stared
st Bell, with amazement and admira
tion in his gaze. “When the master
Its, he lies magnificently I” he mur
mured in French.
, "Well,” and the chief gestured de
spairingly, “I guess that lets out the
real Masquer, eh?”
"Exactly,” assented Fell. “No use
dragging his name into it. I’ll keep
at work on this, chief, and if any
thing turns up to clear young Mail
lard, I'll be very glad."
“All right,” grunted the chief, and
rose. “I’ll be on my way.”
He departed. Neither Fell nor Cha
cherre moved or spoke for a space.
"When at length the clang of the ele
vator door resounded through the de
serted corridors Ben Chacherre slipped
from his chair and went to the outer
door, lie glanced out into the hall,
closed the door, and with a nod re
turned to his chair.
“Well?” Jachin Fell regarded him
with intent, searching eyes. "Have
jou any light to throw on the occa
sion?”
Chacherre’s usual air of cool Impu
dence was never in evidence when he
talked with Mr. Fell.
‘No,” he said, shaking his head.
Hammond worked on the car until
aoout nine o’clock, then beat It to
hed, I guess. I quit the job at ten,
md his light had been out some time.
master, this is a queer affair I
there's no doubt that Gramont pulled
it, eh?”
'You think so?” asked Fell.
>( 'hacherre made a gesture of assent.
‘ Wln the tree falls, the kid can climb
Any fool can see that Gramont
'the man. Don’t you think so
yourself, master?”
jjacldn Fell nodded.
But we’ve no evidence —ev-
lies against young Maillard.
.; ar f ll] the morning Gramont goes to
i aradls to examine that land of Miss
hedfinois’ along the bayou. He’ll
probably say nothing of this murder
'■ Hammond, and the chauffeur may
- hnd out about it until a day or
there" they g6t few newspapers down
Helve down to Paradis In the moro
- Beu; get into touch with Bam
lljr)Q ' aQ d discover what time Gra
“°| u got home tonight. Write me
■■ •u you find out. Then take charge
■ings at the Gumberts place. Make
P ' r, ‘ that every ear is handled right.
a headquarters man from Mobile will
here tomorrow to trace the 'Non
lireil Twelve that Gramont now
owns."
1 hacherre whistled under his breath.
tthat?”
Jachin Fell smiled slightly and
■■led. “Yes. If Gramont remains
and ‘‘aradls, I may send him on down
I re I’m not sure yet. I Intend to
something on that man Ham
mond.”
Hut you can’t land him that way,
taster ! He bought the car —”
And who sold the car to the ga
r People? They bought it inno-
A peculiar smile twisted
’ lips awry. “In fact, they
It from a man named Ham
mond, as tl*- evidence will sLk>w very
clearly.”
Ben Chacherre started, since ha had
sold that car himself. Then a slow
grin came into his thin features —a
grin that widened Into a noiseless
laugh.
“Master, you nre magnificent!” he
said, and rose. “Well, if there is noth
ing further on hand, I shall go to bed.”
“An excellent program,” said Jachln
Fell, and took his hat from the desk.
“I must get some sleep myself.”
They left the office qud the build
ing together.
Three hours afterward the dawn
had set in a cold, gray and dismal
dawn that rose upon a city littered
with the aftermath of carnival. “Lean
Wednesday” it wus, in sober fact.
Thus far, the city in general was ig
norant of the tragedy which had taken
place at the very conclusion of its
gayest carnival season. Within a few
hours business and social circles
would be swept by the fact of Joseph
Maillard’s murder, but at this early
point of the day the city slept. The
morning papers, which today carried a
news story that promised to shock
and stun the entire community, were
not yet distributed.
Rising before daylight, Ilenry Grn
mont and Hammond breakfasted early
and were off by six in the car. They
were well outside town and sweeping
on their way to Terrebonne parish
and the town of Paradis before they
realized that the day was not going
to brighten appreciably. Instead, it
remained very cloudy and gloomy,
with a chill threat of rain in the air.
Weather mattered little to Gramont.
When finally the excellent highway
was left behind, and they started on
the last lap of their seventy-mile ride,
they found the parish roads execrable
and the going slow. Thus, noon was
at hand when they at length pulled in
to Paradis, the town closest to Lucie
Ledanois’ bayou land. The rain was
still holding off.
“Too cold to rain,” observed Gra
mont. “Let’s hit for the hotel and
get something to eat. I’ll have to
locate the land, which Is somewhere
near town.”
They discovered the hotel to be an
ancient structure, and boasting prices
worthy of Lafitte and his buccaneers.
As in many small towns of Louisiana,
however, the food proved fit for a
king. After a light luncheon of quail,
crayfish bisque, and probably Illegal
venison, Gramont sighed regret that
he could eat no more, and set about
inquiring where the Ledanois farm lay.
There was very little, Indeed, to
Paradis, which lay on the bayou but
well away from the railroad. It was a
desolate spot, unpainted and unkempt.
The parish seat of Houma had robbed
it of all life and growth on the one
hand; on the other, the new oil and
gas district had not yet touched It.
Southward lay the swamp—fully
forty miles of it, merging by degrees
into the Gulf. Forty miles of cypress
marsh and winding bayou, uncharted,
unexplored save by occasional hunters
or semi-occasional sheriffs. No man
knew who or what might be In those
swamps, and no one cared to know.
The man who brought in fish or
oysters in his skiff might be a bayou
fisherman, and he might be a mur
derer wanted in ten states. Curiosity
was apt to prove extremely unhealthy.
Like the Atchafalaya, where chance
travelers find themselves abruptly or
dered elsewhere, the Terrebonne
swamps have their secrets and
know how to keep them.
Gramont had no difficulty In locat
ing the Ledanois land, and he found
that it was by no means in the swamp.
A part of it, lying closer to Houma,
had been sold and was now Included
in the new oil district; it was this por
tion which Joseph Mailiard had sold
off.
The remainder, and the largest por
tion, lay north of Paradis and ran
along the west bank of the bayou for
half a mile. A long-abandoned farm,
it was high ground, with the timber
well cleared off and excellently lo
cated; but tenants were hard to get
and shiftless when obtained, so that
the place had not been farmed for the
last five years or more. After getting
these facts, Gramont consulted with
Hammond.
“We’d better buy some grub here in
town and arrange to stay a couple of
nights on the farm, if necessary,” he
said. “There are some buildings there,
so we’ll find shelter. Along the bayou
are summer cottages—l believe some
of them rather pretentious places—
and we ought to find the road pretty
decent. It’s only three or four miles
out of town.”
With some provisions piled In the
car, they set forth. The road wound
along the bayou side, past ancient
’Cajun farms and the squat homes of
fishermen. Here and there had been
placed camps and summer cottages,
nestling amid groups of huge oaks and
cypress, whose fronds of silver-gray
moss hung in drooping clusters like
pale and ghostly shrouds.
Watching the road closely, Gramont
suddenly found the landmarks that
had been described to him, and or
dered Hammond to stop and turn in
at a gap in the fence which had once
been an entrance gate.
“Here we are! Those are the build
ings off to the right Whew I I should
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR, DANIELSVILLE, GEORGIA.
say it had been abandoned! Nothing
much left but ruins. Go ahead I”
Before them, as they drove in from
the road by a grass-covered drive,
showed a house, shed, and barn amid
a cluster of towering trees. Indeed,
trees were everywhere about the farm,
which had grown up in a regular sap
ling forest. The buildings were In
a ruinous state —clapboards hanging
loosely, roofs dotted by gaping holes,
doors and windows long since gone.
Leaving the car, Gramont, followed
by the chauffeur, went to the front
doorway and surveyed the wreckage
Inside.
“What do you say, Hammond? Think
we can stop here, or go back to the
hotel? It’s not much of a run to
town—”
Hammond pointed to a wide fire
place facing them.
“I can get this shack cleaned out in
about half an hour —this one room,
anyhow. When we get a fire goin’ in
there, and board up the windows and
doors, we ought to be comfortable
enough. But suit yourself, cap'nl It’s
your funeral.”
Gramont laughed. "All right. Go
nhead and clean up, then, and if rain
comes down we can camp here. Bq
sure and look for snakes and vermin,
The floor seems sound, and if there’s
plenty of moss on the trees, we can
make up comfortable beds. Too bad
you’re not a fisherman, or we might
get a fresh fish out of the bayou—”
“I got some tackle in town," and
Hammond grinned widely.
“Good work! Then make yourself
at home and go to it. We’ve most of
the afternoon before us.”
Gramont left the house, and headed
down toward the bayou shore.
He took a letter from his pocket,
opened it, and glanced over It anew. It
was an old letter, one written him
nearly two years previously by Luciv.
Ledanois. It had been written mere
ly In the endeavor to distract the
thoughts of a wounded soldier, to
bring his mind to Louisiana, away
from the stricken fields of France. In
the letter Lucie had described some of
the more interesting features of Bayou
Terrebonne—the oyster and shrimp
fleets, the Chinese and Filipino vil
lages along the gulf, the far-spread
cypress swamps; the bubbling foun
tains, natural curiosities, that broke
up through the streams and bayous of
the whole wide parish—fountains that
were caused by gas seeping up from
the earth’s interior, and breaking
through.
Gramont knew that plans were al
ready afoot to tap this field of natural
gas and pipe it to New Orleans. Oil
had been found, too, and all the state
was now oil-mad. Fortunes were be
ing made daily, and other fortunes
were being lost daily by those who 5
dealt with oil stocks instead of with
oil.
“Those gas fountains did the work!”
reflected Gramont. "And according to
this letter there’s one of those foun
tains here in the bayou, close to her
property. ‘Just opposite the dock,’ she
says. The first thing Is to find the
dock, then the fountain. After that,
we’ll decide If it’s true mineral gas.
If it Is, then the work’s done —for I’ll
sure take a chance on finding oil near
it 1”
Gramont came to the bayou and be
gan searching his way along the thick
and high fringe of bushes and saplings
that girded the water’s edge. Present
ly he came upon the ruined evidences
of what had once been a small boat
shed. Not far from this he found the
dock referred to In the letter; nothing
was left of It except a few spiles pro
truding from the surface of the water.
But he had no need to look farther.
Directly before him, he saw that
which he was seeking.
A dozen feet jut from shore the wa
ter was rising and falling In a continu
ous dome or fountain of highly
charged bubbles that rose a foot above
the surface. Gramont stared at It,
motionless. He watched It for a space
—then, abruptly, he started. It was a
violent start, a start of sheer amaze
ment and Incredulity.
He leaned forward, staring no longer
at the gas dome, but at the water
closer Inshore. For a moment he
thought that his senses had deceived
him, then he saw that the thing was
there Indeed, there beyond any doubt
—a very faint trace of Iridescent light
that played over the surface of the
water.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
orew Younger as Years Passed.
The death of M. S. Batallle recently
in his villa at Reuil, France, where
he was working on a play about Em
press Josephine, who once lived next
door at Malmaison, has revealed the
fact that in his researches he dis
covered that Josephine was bom three
times, according to “authentic docu
ments.” The same documents show
that the Imperial coquette became
younger with advancing years
There is a birth certificate filed at
the time of her marriage with Beau
harnais, showing her to hare been
born in July, 1763, there Is a certificate
which was filed when she married Na
poleon and gave the date of her birth
as .June, 1707, and a third document
is the death notice of Josephine posted
in the Town hall at Keull declaring the
empress waa born in June, 1708.
SPLENDID WINTER
Hoim pcs
Well-Built House Earns Profits
for Swine Raisers.
SAVES LIVES OF LITTLE PIGS
Sunlight Ventilation and Protection
From Cold, Essentials In Success
ful Raising of Pigs, Aro Well
Provided For.
By WILLIAM A. RADFORD
Mr. William A. Radford will answer
questions and give advice FREE OF
COST on all subjects pertaining to the
subject of building work on the farm, for
the readors of this paper. On account of
his wide experience as Editor, Author and
Manufacturer, he Is, without doubt, the
highest authority on all these subjects. Ad
dress all inquiries to William A. Radford,
No. 1827 Prairie avenue, Chicago, 111., and
only inclose two-cent stamp for reply.
Breeding sows maintained by suc
cessful swine raisers will be having
their fall litters of pigs within a short
Mine. Seven or eight months from
iss-L
Jk j
Qj 'jj
will weigh around 200 pounds and
will get to market at tlio time when
prices are at the top for the year and
their size will make them “market
toppers.” Iu the meantime the sows
will he bred again and will farrow
Jn the late winter cr early spring, thus
keeping up their production to the top
notch and earning big profits for their
owners.
There in a paragraph is the secret
of success with hogs—two litters of
pigs a year —that coupled with having
only purebred animals and housing
•uni feeding them so that they will
f 41 '-O' >j
E.BLE I r T 11 1 j ! 1
Di||iPqip ||| ' ||
1 FEEDAUEY |
■CONCT'ETETfeW 1 I j
j \ j
Concrete Feeding Platform. p
L__i_ , j
the time they are furrowed these pigs
make the greater growth for the least
amount of feed and care.
Study of the needs of the bows and
their plK* > n the ,irst few-weeks of
their lives has developed a standard
design for hog houses. These houses
may he built cf any of the standard
building materials, b it all of them
have In common several features that
bows and pigs need. Weather-tight
buildings to keep out the cold and
dampness; good floors that are raised
from the ground so that the pigs will
nnt hM*nrruk phllled hv rontnrt Wltli
the earth; plenty ol sunlight to pre
vent disease and help warm the build
ings in winter; a supply of fresh air
brought In by ventilation, which also
carries away the foul air.
Hog houses are constructed from
two general designs. One is known a
the saw-tooth roof, which lias a half
uionitor-shaped roof line, with win
dows set in the sldo of the wail. These
windows, supplemented by windows
in the side wall of the building proper,
permit sunlight to strike the pens on
both sides of the Interior. The other
type of hog house is known as the
gable house, a good exumple of which
is shown in the illustration.
This house is of standard frame
construction, a good grade of lumber
Jjeing used to make It weather-tight.
The building is set on a concrete foun
dation, and hns a concrete floor. The
building is 41 feet long and 24 feet
wide, which provides room for twelve
pens, six on each side. Through the
center of the building runs a feeding
alley, wide enough to run a feed truck,
thus distributing the feed to the
troughs with the least amount of
labor.
The long side of the building shown
In the picture faces the south. With
this arrangement the windows in the
side wall provide sunlight for the
pens on the near side and the roof
windows admitting the sunlight to the
pens <m the far side of the building.
The other side wall, which faces the
hortli is solid, thus keeping out the
wind from that direction.
The pens may be of stool, which,
because of paint and tln? shape of the
round bars, make them more sanitary,
or they may he of planks. The former
are set into the concrete foundation,
while the latter are attached to the
studding of the walls.
Each pen Is floored with planks
raised slightly from the concrete.
These floors cover half the pens,
which gives the sows a raised section
on which the bedding Is placed. With
plenty of bedding and a space be
tween the planks and concrete, the
small pigs will be warm and free from
danger from chills.
.Such a building as this Is not ex
pensive when Its profit-producing abil
ity is considered. It permits the
owner to produce double the number
of pigs possible without such a build
ing and enables him to have the pigs
come so that they mny be fitted for
market when prices are best. It also
saves a greater percentage of the lit
ters, and gives the pigs a good start
toward a profitable market.