Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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I _____ ^ ^IBIIIIIIMM ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^" m lewis m. grist, proprietor, j Jlnbijititbtnf Jkrnilg ftetospaptr: Jor tf/t |)romofron of tjic political, j&oriat, j^gritiillnral atib dummtrrial Jntcnsts of tfie Souflj. |terms?$2.50 a year, in adyancf. r VOL. 34. YOEKVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 4, 1888. NO. 1. __ ???.?, Jt JTmal ROGERtAROQUE, ADAPTED ADD TBANSLATED FEOM TH] FRENCH OP JULES MART. BY OLIVER HARPER. Copyrighted by the American Press Association. CHAPTER J. At the corner of the alley of Montalois, which descends to the lake, and at two steps from the woods of the Ville d'Avray, some fifteen years ago, behind its clematis vines and other climbing plants, stood the prettiest and mo6t coquettish little country house possible to imagine. The Villa Montalois, as it was called, had been bought a few years previous by M. Roger Laroque, a well known mechanical engineer, whose workshops were situated in St. Maur street, and who bad, besides, an apartment on the Boulevard Malesberbes, at No. 117. In the winter bo inhabited his apartments, end in summer be took refuge, with his wife and daughter, at Ville d'Avray, but every morning bis business called mm to raris, w bis shops in St Maur street, and there he breakfasted, but returned in the evening at about 7 o'clock to dinner, a habit of life quite ordinary with Parisians who, during the summer, divide their existence in two parts, the day for Paris, the night for the country. On the evening which affords the commencement of our story, in July, 1872, at 8 o'clock, quite at variance with his usual habit, Roger Laroquo had not yet returned. The dinner was waiting. Iu the parlor, where two windows opened out upon the terrace, and in the dining room there was no one to be seen, and one would have declared the house uninhabited, s* calm and quiet it oeemed in the midst of the silence of the fadtog light Still, at the left of the parlor, two voices whispered. On that side was Mme. Laroque's sleeping apartment, even still deeper plunged in the fast coming darkness. No light burned, neither lamp nor candle. Two voices, one superb, grave and sweet, of such timbre as would cause you to love the speaker without oven teeing her, and the other, infantine and crystal' in its childish music. They were the voices of Mme. Henrietta Laroqueand her little daughter, Suzanne. Mme. Laroque drew an easy chair near the window, which was partly open, and seated herself there, drawing Suzanne close to her. This evening they awaited the coming of Laroque with impatience, and the very cottage, with its profusion of flowers and festal appearance, seemed to be surprised at this silence and solityde. It was Suzanne's seventh birthday, and she was the only child, a little moiled hv the ndoration of her father, and now, since the day before, the mother was trying to teach her a pretty little speech which she was to make to her father upon his return. They were pretty little words of welcome and grateful love, and so they sat here in the darkness whispering them over and over again, that they might not be forgo ttea The half hour past 8 struck, and Henrietta made a gesture of surprise. "Your father will not dine at home this evening. Come," said she; "I do not wish you to wait any longer." They went into the dining room. Mme. Laroque rang and ordered that dinner be served. There were at the villa but three servants?a coachman, a cook, and a moid whoso name was Victoria and who had been but two days in her service. The dinner was a silent one, for in spite of herself a vague sentiment of fear oppressed the heart of the young wife. Two or three times before Roger had been retarded, but he had always telegraphed. This evening, no news. Why? They returned to the bedroom. Another hoar dragged by. Roger did not come. Henrietta sat distracted by the window, crouched in the deep recesses of the easy chair. Victpria wanted to bring lights, but she opposed. Ten o'clock! "Are you asleep, darling?" asked Henriette. "No, mamma," answered the child, whose eyes were wide open. "Don't you want to go to bed!" "Oh, no; I want to wait and kiss papa when he comes." Henriette, a prey to anxiety, stepped out on the balcony and leaned upon the rail, looking downward towards the road which Roger, coming from the cars, habitually took. Suzanne, standing beside her, looked also. The night was very warm, without a cloud. The Villa Montalais was separated from the Ville d'Avray by gardens and trees. Opposite it, in thl chestnut grove, a little to the Jerc, was a neat ucue nouse, wild green blinds, which stood directly on the street, while the villa, on the contrary, was separated from the street by a lawn, constantly refreshed by a little fountain. This cottage was lighted, and the open windows showed a room furnished with mahogany, having a table in the middle and at the back a sort of a secretary desk, pushed up against the walL At this instant 11 o'clock sounded, and Henrietta felt a cold shiver of apprehension run over her, and she interlaced her hands with fear. At this instant a man of medium height passed through the lighted room and seated himself at the secretary, which he opened. They could see him distinctly, and Henriette and Suzanne looked at him. It was the occupant of that cottage, and his name was Laronette. "Our new neighbor has returned," said the little girl The man had taken from his coat a pocketbook and had emptied and spread out before him an immense sum of money in bank notes and rolls of gold pieces, apparently a fortune, which he began to arrange methodically, counting and recounting with visible pleasure. Henriette and Suzanne saw his profile only, his back being turned towards the entrance to bis room. They heard the fhst quarter ring on the church clock. xt 1 . u? ,1 l.: 1 Xltlli itrcic UCllb UVC1 Ut*l UU1U UJIU MSOCU her forehead. "I will call Victoria to undress you and put you in bed," said she. "Oh, mamma, one minute more. Papa cannot be much longer." "No, dear, it is very late. You will be tired." And the young mother stepped aside and touched the b?ll. Victoria not answering at once, she rang again and returned to the balcony. The moon shone pure in a serene sky. Opposite, the neighbor with slow and circumspect movement and avaricious enjoyment, counted his gold and notes. Victoria came in. "Light a lamp and the night light," said Henriette, "and then come and take Suzanne." At the same instant the little girl leaned over the balcony clapping her hands, laughing and calling: "Papa, papa! We have been waiting for you. I did not go to sleep." And a man came up the street, a few paces from there. He was tall, and wore a light gray hat, and was dressed in a light gray redingote, with a cape over the shoulders. At Suzanne's cry he slipped under the shadow of the chestnut trees before the house, and Henriette, by stooping, had seen him also. "Roger, Roger!" called she, "why are you so late* If you knew how uneasy we hava t. ii uueu. But the man, -whether he heard or not, answered nothing. He crept along now, stooping under the trees from trunk to trunk, getting always nearer Larouette's cottage. All at once he had to pass a clear space, and the moon shone full upon him again. "It is Roger. "What is he doiDg? Where is ho going?" murmured Henrietta. Suzanne, astonished, kept silence, but her eyes Allowed her father with an uneasy curiosity. And the mother, sho scarcely breathed, her heart wrung by an agony of fear. Her hands clenched fiercely on the iron of the balcony. Her face was pale, her teeth set, and the man passed the trees and peeped furtively into the neighbor's cottage. "Why," said Suzanne, "papa is going to see the neighbor." A few seconds passed. Larouette arose and, rtanding near his secretary, closed the drawers and locked them with slow, methodical movements. Suddenly something passed behind him which he did not perceive, but which from their balcony Henrietta and Suzanne saw. The door at the back opened softly, without noise evidently, as Larouette heard nothing, and a man, who looked tall and robust, suddenly appeared behind him, with his back turned to the window. Almost falling forward from the balcony, Henrietta watched him with dilated eyes. What was about to happen there? Was that really Roger? The man lifted his two arms above the bare head of the miser Laronette. Hen: riette tried to cry out, to warn him, but tho cry stifled in her throat and she gave but a i hoarso cry of fright: "Roger! Roger! Great Godf "Roger! Roger! Great God!" The scene lasted but a second. The two lilted fists fell, but Laronette turned at the ' some instant, escaping tbe blow. He gave but one cry of "Murder!" and then there was a short but deadly struggle. The murderer's hat fell, a summer hat, high, gray, and bearing a black ribbon band. The candle rolled on the tabic, but before it went out a dark face, covered by a thick, black beard appeared like a flash. There was no more noise. Darkness reigned in that room. Larouette, weak as be was, tried to defend himself. The murderer was a colossus. Still the fear of death lent him force. Larouette tried to cry for help. Then there was a flash and a heavy detonation, and that was all Henrietta drew back, with chattering teeth. Great drops of sweat stood on her brow. She looked like one suddenly gone mad. She repeated, breathless, in an agony of torture at this sudden rending of all her happiness: "Roger! Can it be? He? Oh, horrible!" And now, in the midst of this wretchedness, came the thought of her child;-her child, whose existence she had forgot in that sublime agony; of her child, who had been the first to recognize her father. "Suzanne," said she with painful effort. "Mamma!" &aid a faint voice behind her. Victoria had brought a lamp, and now one could see dearly into the bed room. Through the loco shade the light fell directly upon the child's face. She did not cry. She made no gesture, but her eyes were strangely fixed. She must have seen and understood, for her forehead, so pure and so candid, had suddenly becomo indented with a deep wrinkle. She had aged in that instant many years, and she had the face almost of a woman. Then Henrietta clasped her in her arms in a wild pain and lifted her, and then laid one hand over the child's eyes. "You have seen nothing," gasped she breathlessly. "You have seen nothing and you have heard nothing. Listen to me well, and understand me. You must remember that you have seen nothing and have heard nothing." "No, mamma; I shall have seen nothing, and I shall have heard nothing." It was no longer that silvery, sweet voice of a child; it was the grave voice of the mother. Suddenly aged by a horrible spectacle, the child recognized clearly the whole .0# kaH onr? ifo VI uci lUdiu f uau (WO "You will never say anything?" - "Nothing, ever, mamma." ."Never, if you love your poor mother, never tell what you have seen, what you have heard, no matter what threats, prayers or temptations ore brought to bear upon you?" "Never, except on your order, mother." She called her "mother" now; the child was no longer a baby to say "mamma." "That is right; and may God have pity on your feebleness and innocence, however hard he may strike me." She did not weep, though the nervous sobs, strangled in her throat, nearly stifled her. Still she had strength to close the window, and on returning toward her bed she saw that her maid, dumb and frightened, was still there. Henriette thought she must faint, but gathered force enough to say: "You can go, Victoria. I will put Suzanne to bed myself." "Madame, did you not see, not hear? There? Near us, very near." "What? What was it?" "A pistol shot." "You are crazy. Leave us." "Excuse me, madame, but I thought I heard one." Victoria went out trembling, and Henriette 1 happened to glance in her glass. She drew back in affright, so terrible was her own appearance. At this instant she heard a stifled groan, and turning she found Suzanne on the carpet in convulsions. She sprang to the child, and lifting her in her arms caressed her with a wild delirium of love and terror. "My child, my darling child, oh, bo calm] do not be afraid?I am here. Oh, my baby! what shall I do?" But Suzanne, shaken by a violent hysteria, heard nothing. Henriette used all the means in her power to restore the child, but the convulsions continued for a long time?an eter nity it seemed to the stricken mother. At | last the convulsions ceased and the child regained consciousness, and looking her mother in the eyes repeated with her dry little lips: "No, mother; I shall have seen nothing; I shall have heard nothing." And they wept in each other's embrace. Suddenly they both, shivered and rose together; but Suzanne did not let go her clasp about her mother's waist. The gate which led from the lawn to the Rue do Versailles was creaking on its hinges. Steps were heard Upon the gravel walk; a key turned in the lock of the front door. "It is he!" murmured Henrietta Suzanne held her arms clasped still more ! tightly around her mother's waist. It was Roger Laroque. Henriette knew his step, and hastily put out the lamp, leaving only the night light burning, and, staggering to her door, locked it. She trembled lest he should come into her presence. They listened with bated breath to the steps coming nearer, and which stopped at last before their door, and in tho midst of the death like silence they heard distinctly his breath, coming in heavy 1 gasps as if ho had run until almost breathless^ i They heard his hands as he felt about trying ' the door, and they heard him knock softly, | and a voice said: "Henriette, Henriette; are you asleepV' The mother and child stood together clasped in wild embrace, their eyes riveted on that corner of tho room as if death had awaited them there. They took care not tc make a sound, and even tho mother placed her hand upon tho child's lips. Roger, thinking that they were asleep, retired softly, careful not to awaken them. Opposite to that of * his wife and at the other extremity of the parlor was his own room, and he entered it. Every sound ceased. Everything seemed to 1 sleep. Only a quarter of an hour ago theto j two had been on tho balcony, happy and im- | patient to see Roger. And now three lives ' were wrecked in that short space. Midnight sounded, and at last 1 o'clock, j Henriette did not try even to sleep. She sat ; silent and overcome in the chair beside the | | bed of her child, and at last, thinking that j I Suzanne slept, she turned her gaze toward | j her, and seeing tho eyes closed thought that ] the poor little thing had forgot her fear and j : horror, at least for a time. "Oh, my God!" whispered she, "have pity j upon that poor innocent one." She then rose softly and crept td the door j , and opened ic slightly and listened. Thero j was no sound. She crept like a shadow into the parlor and took a few steps forward, but suddenly stoo|>ed behind tho piano, as she saw that Roger's door was wide open, and by the j light of a lamp she could seo him seated, pale ' 1 -1} -* 1 -'it- 1 1 An ?>i?i n? U.I1U ULSUCSSUU, WILLI 1115 LiCUU tuning ujjvu | his hands. His face was convulsed, his eyes , fixed and his hair and beard in wild disorder. Roger was 80 yeara old; at this instant ho looked 50. On the bureau, within reach of i his hand, lay a small revolver, the revolver which had triumphed over the last agony of M. Larouette. And the lamp burned on with , its steady flame, giving this spectacle to the watching wife. Henrietta looked, absorbing every detail of this final picture, when suddenly she felt be| tween her locked fingers a cold little hand, j and turning found that Suzanne had arisen from her bed and that she, too, was watching. Hidden thus behind the piano they did not lose sight of Loroque an instant. All at once, as if his thoughts were too dreadful to bear, he] rose and began pacing his room with uncertain, staggering step*. Often, even, he took hold of something to keep himself from falling. At last he stoppc d before the bureau, and hid his face in his hands. One would have thought that he wept Was it remorse? Then he let his hands fall and reached and took the revolver, cocked it and held it ready in his left hand, while with the other he uubuttoned his redingote, threw asido the cape, opened his vestments, leaving bare his breast Then, without a tremor, he plAed the muzzle of the pistol to his heart and with his finger cn the trigger stood an instant, but ho dared | not complete his impious act, and he threw the pistol back on the bureau. And then Roger threw himself into a chair and continued his train of thought, while Henrietta caught Suzanne as she fainted and carried her bock into her room, and he heard nothing. The night passed thus. Henriette Hid not co to had. Suzanne lav in her cot. but without sleeping, for her eyes remained wido open until morning, keeping always their expression of horror. About- 8^tfclock Henrietta dressed herself, and afterward disordered her bed, the pillows and all, to notf awaken Victoria's suspicions, and to cause her to believe that she had slept. She must dissemble. She could not do otherwise. She would be obliged to leave ber room and meet her husband, speak to him, smile even, that bo might not suspect that she had witnessed his crime. And even while dressing Suzanne, she felt a force unknown, superhuman, which obliged her to go out on that fatal balcony, and look towards that little house with green blinds. The windows were still open; there lay the rigid corpse of Laronette beside the secretary, which had all the drawers open. She heard Roger come out of his room, traverse the parlor and knock at her door. It was ended; she must meet him. One last kiss sho gave to Suzanne and then opened the door to her husband, who entered smiling. He was not dressed as he had been the day before, but in black. Roger Laroque was tall, wore all his beard, which was jet black, and his face was expressive and sympathetic, though it indicated more a man of action than a dreamer. This morning his face was ashy pale, his eyes sunken and his forehead wrinkled, and ho showed traces of an anxiety which ho tried in vain to hide, and though he smiled on his wife that smile was forced. He took her hand and bent to kiss her, saying in his tender and sweet voice: "How uneasy you must have felt lost night, my dear, but I could not help it. I had very important Dusmess, wnica so occupieu mu that I bad no time to telegraph. But" And here he stopped, surprised. He had bent to kiss her forehead and Henrietta had shrunk back with an instinctive movement of horror. "What ails you?" said he, apparently hurt by her coldness. And then for the first he noticed her extreme pallor, her troubled mien. To receivo a caress from that man, after what she had seen! It was more than she could bear. Yet she must feign. "Nothing," said she; "nothing. Why should there be anything?" And with her whole soul in revolt she received his caress, which reassured him, and he said, gayly: "Last night when I came in I knocked at your door, but you were asleep. Only a few years ago you would have waited later than that. Who knows if anybody loves me nowf And there was that man talking of love! And she would always be obliged to listen, to answer! From what a height had sho fallen and how completely the fall had shattered her heart, her life! "Well," said he again, "whatis it? Aro yon ill? I see you are pale and weary. Why don't you look at me? Have I distressed yt>u without knowing it? Are you vexed with me for having caused your anxiety lust night? Tell me, at least." Bhe must speak. One moment she gathered her forces to tell him all, to accuse him, to banish him forever from her presence. But she could not, she dared not. It was bctta that ho never know that he had had his wife and child for witnesses to his terrible crime. Better never let him know, and thus she would not become his accomplice. Her little girl 6tood by. She had told that child that, If ever justice should accuse him, "you hare seen nothing, heard nothing." She mukt now show that child how one must feign, how lie. And so, half fainting with tbt horror of it, she murmured: ' What have you done that I should lore you 110 longer? I love you. What have I done that you doubt it?" So great was Roger's preoccupation that he heard only those words, without noticing the emotion. He went to Suzanne, who during this scene had been standing beside a chair, and lifting her up in his arms gayly, as he always did, began to talk to her in his accustomed manner, which was to address her as if she were some grand stranger, all the while tossing her and playing with her almost roughly. ITOWI I H ih I I "Have I distressed you without knowing itf' "Miss Laroquc, I place at your little feet my most profound respect. Dare I ask for news regarding your health? You aro a little pale this morning. That is my fault. You sat up too late last night Excuse me this time, honored lady, and I promiso you to be more exact another time. But how serious you are! Has your naughty mamma been scolding you? Nol Are you sick, then? Oh, I know. When young ladies reach the ripe age of 7 years they don't laugh any more. That not it? Ah, well, then it is because the young lady hns doubtless learned a piece to speak and last night she had no audience. If it is not too late, I should like to hear it now. I am listening." He placed the little creature 011 the flctor and waited. But Suzanne remained silent. Henriette, behind Roger, mado n signt and the poor child saw that she too must lonvn fn and in a feeble voice she began her little speech: "Father, I have loved you seven years. I love you as much as I do my mother." I know that you sacrifice your life to prepare mine, and you weary yourself that I may bo happylater. But, dear father, I am never so happy as yvhen you caress me. I know that you are good and indulgent, and I lovo you better every day. If I have ever caused you"-1? But it was too much for the child. She stopped, suddenly, and putting her hand to her throat, looked for one moment at her father with an unspeakable fear, and with a boarso cry fell in convulsions, her face scarlet and her eyes set. Henriette seized her while Roger sprinkled water in her face. "Shall I go for the doctor! . What is it? "What can wo do?" said Roger, frightened. "Nothing. We do not need the doctor," said Henriette in a hu9ky voice, as she feared that the doctor might divine the cause of the attack. Laroque looked at both with a suspicious regard. Henriette thought: "Unhappy man! if he does lovo us he must suffer horribly!" After a while Suzanne grow better, and Roger had to go to his business. Every morning he took the 9 o'clock train for Paris, and ho came to say goodby, saying: "I may bo late again to-night. Do not wait for me." And he stood a moment before his wife, as if ho had something to say to her of grave import, but finally yvent out yvitbout adding a yvord. CHAPTER II. Tho old housekeeper, Mother Dondaine, as she was called, at "her usual "hour began "her duties in the little cottage which had been inhabited by Larouette. As she went about she discovered, somewhat to her surprise, that the windows were open, and when she had finished dusting and sweeping she went to arrange Laroirctto's room. But she stood petrified upon tho threshold, with her eyes starting from her head, as ishe saw stretched upon tho floor in the midst of tho broken and disordered furniture, the secretary open and apparently rifled, her master dead with a ball in his breast. Everything pointed to murder and not suicide. The first emotion passed, Mother Dondaine regained her coolness. She bent over the inanimate form of Larouette and felt for signs of life, but saw at once that there was but a rigid corpse before her, and she ran as fast as her years would permit to the police station, telling every one she met on the way of her terrible discovery. An hour later M. Lacroix, the commissary of police ot Versailles, arrived with Dr. Martinaud, of Ville d'Avray. The two men and the woman entered the house, while crowds gathered around it. M. Lacroix questioned Mother Dondaine, but sho could give him no information. "Do you know," said he, "whether M. Larouetto had any important sum of money in ' his secretary?" "I do not, sir. He was not a man to confide his business secrets to any one." M. Lacroix made a search of the premises, while tho doctor examined the body. "The victim defended himself," said he. "Look, hero are traces of finger nails and other marks which prove that they have tried first to strangle him, and because he did not die quick enough they finished him with a pistol shot, which proves that we are not is presence of the deed of a vulgar assassin,.but a man iu baste to finish, and who must have lost his head, for a detonation in the middle of the night is very imprudent. The house is not isolated. The Villa Montalais is but two steps from here. a If M. or Mme. Laroque or their servants * were not in bed they must have heard the L pistol shot" t "I will question them directly. Can you o give any idea of how long he has been dead?" c "He must have been dead since between 11 a and 12 o'clock. The murderer doubtless used a a small pocket pistol. Here is the ball, which 3 I found in the heart. Death must have been t instantaneous." And tho doctor gave Lacroix 1 the bit of flattened lead. Lacroix had made a package of all the papers in the desk, and 0 they prepared to leave. "We have nothing 1 more to do here," he said, and they closed tho I doors and went to the house of Roger t Laroque. When Victoria announced M. La- i croix Henrietta grew deathly pale. "Great c God!" thought she, "do they suspect already?" I At this thought she felt us if death had seized i her, and she gathered her courage and crept into the parlor as though-weighed down by , I an invisible burden, yet resolved to bear it | "Excuse me, madame, for troubling you, but last night, here at a few steps from your house, was committed a dreadful crime. A man was assassinated, doubtless for the purpose of robbery, and I have come to ask a few questions of you.'' "Of me. sir? What can I tell you?" "Last night there was a pistol fired in thehouse next door, which is opposite you. The s windows wero open, and I thought possibly f that some of you might have heard some* i thing, or even, perhaps, might have seex r something." j "At what hour was this crime committed?" ? "Some minutes before midnight." "That explains why we heard nothing. 1 t went to bed about 10 o'clock, and my husband ( came homo soon after. I did not see him." t "Is M. Laroque here?" f "He took the 1) o'clock train to Paris, but ? he said nothing, which proves that he heard * nothing." * "You have a little girl, 1 believe, of 7 or <5 i years. Where does she sleep? Might she not j she have heard the detonation!" ] "She slept in my bed last night, and never t woke until morning." ? Sho said this with a quick, harsh accent, ] which surprised Lacroix. His keen eye* saw here a mystery, and he looked at the young ( I woman whose eyes fell before his. ? "Cau I see the child?" asked ha ? "Certainly, if you think it necessary, but \ she is not very well this morning, having had ? a nervous attack, and unless it is really ] necessary?" ] "Aha!" thought M. Lacroix; "sho doesn't , want mo to see the little girL Why?" i Mr. Lacroix was on the point of letting j this question pass for the time, when the child } stepped to her mother's side from the other 1 room. < "No, mother," she said, without being questioned;"! could not have heard anything; 1 j slept all night without waking." j "I would like to question your servants," j said Lacroix, and Henrietta rang. Victoria entered. ] "Bring the cook and coachman," said she, "and return with them." In another instant the three were there. Th6 coachman and cook had rooms opening upon the garden. They declared they had seen and heard nothing. They had gone to bed at 10 and slept until morning. It was by report that they hail known of the crime. Lacroix made a sign for them to retire, which they gladly obeyed. And as Victoria was about to follow them he called her back. "One moment, my girl." She stopped, a little confused. "I am going to ask you the same questions as those I addressed your comrades. At what hour did you go to bed?" "Why, why," stammered she, looking toward Henrietta so earnestly that it was evident that she was waiting for a sign from her mistress. M. Lacroix placed himself between \ them without seeming to do so by design. "Answer, my girl, and do not fear to speak j tho truth." "I went to bed very late; later than usual. ) Madame must have told you." " Why later yesterday than usual?" i "We were waiting for M. Laroque, who did not return until after midnight. Madame and Miss Suzanne and 1 waited for him until nearly midnight." "You mean 10 o'clock7" "No, midnight. At 11:301 was in madame's room. She had rung for me to come and un- j dress Miss Suzanne." | "You are very sure of the hour?" ) "Certainly, sir, since I tell you so." I Here was a double contradiction which sur- I prised the magistrate. Why had Mme. La- j roque pretended that her husband had re- | turned a few minutes after she had retired, I and that she had retired at 10 o'clock? What L interest had she to prevaricate? j* "So then at 11:30 you were in madame's ! room. That hour coincides with that of tho crime. A pistol shot was fired. Did you j ] hear it?" "Perfectly, and 1 even observed so to madame. But madame, who was on the j balcony, says she heard nothing." "And you did not go out?" ! 1 "No, sir." j e "Is tnat all vou have to sav to me?" I i "Yes, sir," she replied, hesitatingly. "I do j not know anything more." Lacroix noticed that she grew pale, anu ' c thought she lied. "She knows something else ! 1 and will not tell it." Then, with a laughing ' i air, he turned again to Henrietta, saying: "I understand your repugnance to tell me j t the truth, and I do not blame you for nol j 1 wishing to serve as a witness at the court of ' assizes, but the affair is grave and merits re- j flection" J i "Sir!" "Do not say that you do not understand | me. No, my meaning is very clear to you, j and you have understood me perfectly well ? You say that 'If I say nothing justice will t not need my tcstunony and I will escape much annoyance by keeping silent.' That is true und would be justifiable if the question ' was a trifling one, but this is a murder." "Again sir" I 1 "Permit me, inudame; I have not finished, j ' Up to the present moment you say you wero I asleep at 10 o'clock. Neither you nor your I c little girl had gone to bed until midnight" "I assure you, sir," said Henrietta, whose * heart seemed ready to buret. ? "Do not deny. Your maid says otherwise." . 1 "Sho is mistaken." . "Is it not more likely you who are mistaken?" insinuated the magistrate, who J watched tho visible emotion of Henrietta : with a vigilant eye. J "Is it possible that after all I did not notice tho hour, and it may have been later than 1 ? thought," . "Is it true that Victoria called your attention to a pistol shot near your window I" "1 do not remember it." "And you declare that you heard nothing, c although you were so late out on tue balcony?" J ^Monsieur, permit me to remark," said 3enriette, who felt that she could bear no nore, "that you question me with as much igidity as if I were an accomplice of this rime. There is a just limit, which I' beg ot roa not to pass. Your questions and your nsjfcuatious humiliate and fatigue me. It roxf. please, let this end." only search the light, madame," said Lacroix, with much gentleness, "and to sur oujbd myself with all the witnesses that nifiht form my conviction. As you wish, naoame, I will withdraw, particularly as 1 latfe noticed for some monients thut you vere profoundly agitated." TlfllL Al.f_ 1. _ J I ? II.. 1 _ _ A ft ibu mis ne saiuiea uer coiuiy, out lolltely, and withdrew, leaving her a prey to violent agitation. What to do? How hinder Victoria from telling all she knew? How nuch did she know? Would all she possessed buy her silence? Hardly knowing what she did she rang for Victoria, but earned that she had been ordered to go liroctly to tho magistrate's office, where she was now without doubt being examined by tf. Lacroix. Henrietta passed over in her nind all that had happened, and the more she bought the greater grew her agony, for she cnew that her own denial, coupled with what might say, would serve to bring down fee aval ahbhe iJpon her shoulders. She could' lo nothing but sit in a weary, uazed way, !rom which even the caresses of her child :ould not rouse her. In the meantime the magistrate by threat* uid promises obtained from Victoria the fact bat mother and child had been on tho bal:ony, that- she had heard every word they lad said as they spoke to some one to her invisible, and who they believed to be Roger baroque; heard Suzanne say: "There is papa joing to see the neighbor;" their apparent igitation; and all that testimony was written Jown and she was made to sign it, and then old not to go bock to that house, but to hold lerself in readiness for future orders. Then If T n.MvnY Knnlr nil t.lin nnnorc lin hnrl it the dead man's house and read them, after vhich ho made them into two packages. One leld papers of no moment, the other conoincd two letters only, each containing but l few lines. But in reading them Mr. Laroix could not restrain an exclamation of joy ind surprise. These letters were dated six ind eight days back, and both addressed to jarouette, who, according to the addresses on ho envelopes, lived at that time Rue St. Roch, tfo. 17, in Paris. The first was as follows: "Sir: You call upon me to pay to you 130,00 francs, loaned me by your uncle, tfr. Celestin Vaubernon, whoso heir you are. ! will not conceal from you that the restitution of so important a sum at the present monent will greatly embarrass me. If you will all at my office at Rue St. Maur, I will ex)lain to you the nature of that embarrassnent. Roger Laroque." The other was more laconic and oven des>erate.. "Sir: You exact your money. You have he right to do so. You can call at Ruo St. daur, and receive from the cashier the 130,00 francs left by your uncle, plus the interest vhich has accrued, and which I paid yearly, t is for me almost the certainty of ruin, Minkruptcy and dishonor. "Roger Laroque." M. Lacroix was convinced. At least proofs eemed to accumulate pointing to Laroque is the murderer. And, horrible thought! tho vife and child had witnessed tho crime. The notive was clear. Laroque had paid Larouitte, and to avoid ruin and bankruptcy had ilanned and executed this crime. M. Lacroix did not lose bis time in useless leductions. He felt that he must movo [uickly to prevent Roger Laroquo from lispersing tho sum of money he had stolen 'rom Larouette. He took tho train from Paris md went direct to the prefecture of the xrtice, and they gavo him two keen detectives, rristot and Pivolot Then he returned to Versailles, where he made his report to the % - - - -i .u rni i : luuge ana suite attorney. ? uen, ueiug uu ifcjrty.to act, ho shut himself up in his study ;o lay out his plans for tho preliminary elimination of the inhabitants of tho Villa Montalais. And what was taking place at the villa luring this coming and going of the commisiary of the police? Henrietta was in a mortal igony of fear since the morning. Fever lurned in her veins. She was left in doubt ind uncertainty. Victoria did not return, toger did not come home at tho usual hour, liight fell and tho hours dragged on. The windows were all closed. Toward 1 o'clock n the morning Roger returned. He came, as le bad tho night before, to listen at tho door of lis wife's room, and then go out on tiptoo to lis own room, where he [closed the door at race. But tho silence was so profound that the nother and child heard Roger, while preparng for sleep, sing a childish little air which le had taught Suzanne to sing. This second night dragged along as had the ast, only that Suzanne slept in her mother's led. But Henrietta never thought of lying lown. She remained wide awake, trying to isten to her heart, and trying to think o lome way out of this dreadful danger, every noment her excited imagination tuking her iver the horrible scene again. The morning sun found her as the sotting me hod left her. About 7 o'clock she heard raise in her husband's room. He had slept without phantoms or remorse, and ho awoke jay and light hearted, for he sung, ns he Iressed, the same little song he had sung the light before. Yes, he sung while dressing, ind with his window open to tho cool mornng air. He came to his wife's door. "Come ini" said Henrietta in a feeble roice. Roger went in, with a smile on his lips, but [topped in surprise, seeing his wife up and Iressed. "Already?" said he, "and it is not 8yet." "It is so flno that I shall go for a walk with 3uzanne," said she. "You are very happy. How I wish I could jo along!" And he kissed Henrietta tenderly, ind she did not forbid him by look or gesture; md then noticing Suzanne, whose look of fear io could not understand, bo said: "How is this, young lady? To-day again in four mother's bed? They spoil you. I shall lave to look at this." And, seating himself jesido her on the bed, he took his little girl lp in his arms in her night dress. She did lot open her lips, and her eyes were fixed mtil a stranger would have said she had lost icr reason. "You are not awake yet, and ?ou are cross," said Roger. "Cuddle down ind go to sleep again, Mademoiselle," kissing ibp acrnin nnil cnvArinfr her nn Anrofnllv "Ah!" said ho in an indifferent tone, "this nurder of our neighbor?have they found >ut anything about who did it?" "I do not know; the commissionnairo of the K?lice came here yesterday to question us." "You?" exclaimed Roger energetically. "I, Suzanne and the servants." "And to what end?" "As there was a pistol shot fired in the louse so close to ours, they might naturally iuppose we heard it and that we rose and perhaps saw something." "That is so." "But you, Roger," said she, trembling, "how lid you know about this murder, since you eft here yesterday morning before it was liscovered?" "When I came home last night the chief of ;he railroad station told me what he knew? ittle in fact, not even the man's name." "Our neighbor was named Laronette." Roger turned brusquely as ho heard this lame and turned pale. "What did you say his name was?" "Larouettc. I heard that during the da}*." "Well, that is strange," murinered Roger; ind ho remained silent a few minutes, and hen said: "Do they know the motive of tliis murderl" "Robbery, without doubt," answered she, ooking full into his eyes; but he did not ronark her singular emotion, and ho bit his lips n a preoccupied manner. At last he took his iat and cane. "Excuse me," he said hurriedly; "I must go >r I shall miss my train." Henrietta did not lot answer. She felt as if she must cry out o him, "Fly! Quit France. You will not scape justice. Come no more where I am. ifou horrify me! Do not soil the forehead of ny child with your assassin's kisses!" But instead of going direct to the train itoger wont to the mayor's office and sent his ord to tho commissary, who had just reurned from Versailles, asking a private nterview with him immedntely. They led dm before Lacroix, who indicated a chair vithout speaking. The magistrate's heart >eata little faster than usual. What had Hoger Laroque come here to do! What aulacious plan had he conceived, w ho was eonidered to have been the murderer of Luroutte? He feared a trap and was on his guard. "Sir," said Roger, "I have come to give rou, on the subject of the crime which has 4 been committed so near my home, an indication which may be of service to yon. I have just heard the name of the victim. Day before yesterday I was obliged to pay over 130,- w 000 francs to a man of the same name. The coincidence is curious, only my creditor lived t in Paris, Rue Saint Rwh, or at leust he had an apartment there. As that payment y, troubled me greatly I had during the last few days several meetings with Larouctte; there fore I should know if it was my creditor, and w if you wish" Mr. Lacroix interrupted him with the great y est calm; g( "That will be unnecessary, M. Laroque, j, as the Larouctte who was assassinated was ^ tho same to whom you paid the 130,000 francs." "How do you know?" n ?T ftMil./I nmoiiff lu'u Tvn norc l?nti?? X. X IVUIIU UlllUil^ 11U ^upwio JWUi IV-l/fcVi wT wherein vou speak of this payment, and I ? thank yon for the interest you show. Allow si me, however, to ask you a few questions, Did Lnrouette in his dealing with you em- ^ ploy an intermediary?" C] "No; he came alone and saw no ono but myself." ^ "Do j*ou know anything about the details v, of his daily life? His habits?his vices?" r< "I never saw him until two week&ago. The money in qUestioh was foaned ~ "6ld" ri friend of my father's, Celestin Vaubernon, fl Larouette's uncle, who died suddenly a few ]j weeks ago. The only thing I know is that & M. Vaubernon did not like his nephew, f. though I do not know why. And to judge a by my dealings with Larouette, Vaubemon's n relations with his nephew could not have been ? agreeable. I found him hard, unpitying and f: very ill bred." t< "I suppose you can give mo a description of h the checks, drafts or notes which make up the h sum you paid him. That would be of great a assistance to us." tl Behind his blue glasses the eyes of tho ci magistrate watched Laroque keenly, but ho a hever seemed to know anything of that a; scrutiny. ti Laroque took leave, saying: "I will confer e with my cashier, who is tho only ono who can v give you those details;" and from there ho <1 hurried to the train. M. Lacroix watched n him as he went out in the direction of the depot, saying to himself: "You aro p lwif vaii lmvn oomn fr-u-* ?nnr fViA firn ? and you will get burnt." g Then ho took a sheet of official paper and wrote a few lines upon it, and at the bottom n he added: "You will also bring Miss Su- n zanne," and sent it to the Villa Montulais, ad- 0 dressed to Henriette. When Henriette received it she trembled from head to foot. This c' was a legnl form, filled out in such a manner g| as left her no possible choice or excuse. She must go. What did M. Lacroix want? To ^ question, to torture her again; to question Suzanne again? Victoria bad not returned, p therefore she had told all. All at once she ji revolted against the persistence of the com- S| missionnaire and a sort of cold anger took pos- a session of her. She left Suzanne at the villa sj and went alone. M. Lacroix was alone when she arrived. n "I am here, sir," said she, bravely. "You 6ent for ine." j "Yes; but I asked you to bring your ^ daughter." ^ "Suzanne is ill; besides, she is but a child. ^ What have you to say to me? In what man- Q ner can I be of service to you?" 0 "You shall know, madame. I wish to know p from you regarding this murder not only tho tj truth, but tho whole truth, without hesitation ^ or reticence." n "I shall have nothing to add to my deposi- ^ tion of yesterday." v "That is a falsehood." j "Sir!" said she, rising. ^ He made a gesture of reassurance, and then w with the same hardness repeated, -xouure ^ not telling the truth; I have the proof of it." "I have nothing to add, nothing to retract." ^ Then ho repeated word for word the testi- ^ mony of Victoria, which was exact and j truthful; but to this again she answered: "All that, sir, is a tissue of foolish inventions. Victoria must be insane. Besides, you a certainly-cannot oblige me to tell you things I neither saw nor heard." "No, madamo, I cannot. Even the deposition you make I can only use under tho form of a report, for the law forbids mo to accept as g( a regular witness any relation, father, mother, daughter or wife, of one whom I suspect strongly of being tho guilty one I am in ^ search of." "My husband!" ^ " You have said it, madamo; y our husband." y "Why sir, you too must bo insane. That n is not even common sense, and does not jj trouble me. Nobody will believe it." j( . "Thut accusation, madame, rests on what I ^ am sure before night will bo undeniablo j .p^pofs. At this hour your husband is under CJ bik first examination iu his office in Rue St. t Mnur. He is in tho hands of justice and must ^ defend himself." "Arrested? Rogor! My God 1 Oh, my God I" CHAPTER III. 11 Ileiirietto did not weep. She bad wept all " -i- sui- 1 u Her tears during tnese wmuiuuuya uuu ni^uw, ^ but she looked as do tho dead women who dio leaving little children. >. j !i i I .-t-fcyc? ' . Hcnrirtte did not weep. Sj "You must suffer greatly, and I pity you n from the bottom of my heart," said Lacroix tl gently. d "I do not need or want your pity. Tho y whole past life of my husband proves his in- si nocence. An honest man doc-i not becomo a ? murderer from one day to another without ti motives. You can accuse him, arrest him, E try him in tho courts of justice, but he will a pass through all with a clear name. But it ti pains me to think of all this unmerited 0j trouble." S "Assassin without motives? Do you know anything about your husband's business, modaine?" With this ho placed before her the accusing letters. She read them as in a ]j. dream, and she understood all, but she said no word, though she could not suppress a U] gesture of horror. p, "Now, madame, I shall bo obliged, even in spite of my own wish, to interrogate your h little girl. Wo will go to your house, as she zis too ill to come hire." j, 11. Lacroix accompanied Henrietta to tho n wrilln n?,l wnnf. tor tn t.lin n/irloiv I t. "So, then, you wish to speak with Suzannol j You wish to question her, although I tell ai you she is sick?'' a She bent her head discouraged, and walked slowly to her bed room. Suzanne was there, 0 and sprang to her mother's arms, and as she C] kissed her Henrietto whispered in her car, r, "Remember." They then returned to the room, and Henrietta said: "Go, my child, to this gentleman and s| answer whatever ho asks you." H Suzanne advanced timidly and placed her- 4 Belf between tho knees of M. Lacroix, who \ put his arm around her and kissed her fore- e, head kindly. "She has her lesson and will j, say nothing," thought he. Gently he spoke, ? putting his hand beneath the little chin so ai to look full into tho lovely eyes of the child; y "Do you remember what you did night be* & fore last, littlo one?" to She reflected a moment, and then answered c in a Arm, clear voice: "Why, yes, sir. I played in tho garden, t] and watered my flowers, and I made a big ^ bouquet of roses for the dinner table, and j, then I played with my new big doll, which mamma gave me that morning because I was a seven years old that day. And then I helped c mamma, and wo mado my doll a lovely blue ^ satin dress, and wo put it on, and wo made her a lint just like it. That was all, I think." u "But in tho evening?after tho lamps were lighted?" "I did nothing. I staid by mamma, who j was teaching me a verso to say to papa; but I t did not say it until tho next morning, because papa did not come homo until I was in bed." r,You forget many things." "That may be; I don't know." "Do you know bow lato it was when yon ent to bed?" "I do not know. Perhaps mamma could >11 you." "When you were on the balcony what did ou see in the street?" "Nothing." "Did you not see a man, the very one you ere waiting for. your father? Did you not ie him go into your neighbor's house? Did ou not call him, and then say: 'Look, thero oes papa into the neighbor's house,' and an istaut after heard a pistol shot, which must avo frightened you? Now, tell me the truth, ly child." "No, sir; and I do not know what yon lean." And the courageous child looked at er mother with an infinite tenderness, tenriette was seated near the window, where 10 could see Suzanne without being seen by .acroix, who was vexed and humiliated by is lack of success with these two weak reatures, who were still too strong for him, "Madame." said Lacroix suddenly. "I would e obliged to you if you would leave me alon? rith this child a few minutes. From your 30in you can hear all wo say." Henrietta rose and walked feebly to her 3oni, where si to iLroppil, an inert moss, on the rst chair. "Now then, dear, listen to me. a obstinately refusing to tell me what you iw you are doing a great harm to your ither. Why will you not tell me all you saw nd heard? "Who are you afraid of? Did your lothcr tell you to keep silent? If she did sho 'as wrong. I do not want to harm your xther. _ Thero aro people, though, who pre:nd that they saw him go night before last lto M. Larouette's house to kill him and take is money. You love your father, I am sure, . _ . a 1 1. tuv.11 tt iiu want uim 10 cuuiu uulu iu juu. ???>, * ley prove that lie went there ho can never ome back, and perhaps they will send him way to prison, and you will never see, him gain. Perhaps oven they would do wore* nan that. It depends upon you whether he ver conies back or not. You saw the man ho killed Larouette. If it was your father o not tell me, but if it was somebody else, do ot be afraid to speak." During this artfully arranged speech the oor little girl had tried to stiflo her sobs, nd now, almost bursting with restrained rief, fear and terror, 6he sobbed brokenly: "I don't know what you want of me. I eanot say what I do not know, and I know othing and 1 saw nothing. What makes yoc auso mo such grief?" The tears chased each other down that pale bild's face in veritable torrents, and she ;ood before him without so much as trying > wipe them away, hor little hands hanging elplessly by her side. "I am sorry I have caused you trouble, oor little one. Go and join your mother." nid Suzanno triumphed in that terrible ;ruggle of a mftn of the world, a magistrate nd a commissaire of the police against a imple child. "She had learned her lesson. I thought /a luch." At this moment some one rapped on the oor leading from the hall, and two men enjred. They were Tristot and Pivolot, who ad come to tell II. Lacroix that this mornlg Roger Laroque had been arrested in Ills dice, Rue Saint Maur, and examined at nee by a commissaire of the judiciary. Tofiting by tho presence of these two detecives at tho Villa Montalais, they proceeded 5 search the premises for anything which light seem to them useful in establishing :ieir evidonco against Roger. This search oa fhntr frtiinrl in RncorVl aa iiuu iiuiu^oo, wuvj ... *.v0?. . ressing room the clothes which Roger had rorn tho night of the crime, the gray coaj rith its cape, a pair of brown pantaloons, rhich wcro torn; a high gray hat, witho arrow black band, dented and soiled. Tris)t and Pivolot, who had been at work sinco le previous day, knew that these were ur.oubtedly tho clothes that Roger had worn n tho day of the murder. "Look at tho coat, pantaloons und overcoaS nd hat. Do you know them?" asked Lacroix f Henriette. "Yes; they are my husband's." "Did your husband tell you how this hat as crushed and coat and pantaloons became ) soiled and torn?" She made u negative sign. "Have you tho keys to this secretary and le bureau?" In a few moments every nook and corner as searched and the papers, money, everyling that could possibly bear upon the ease lade into a package, along with the clothe* a one of the bureau drawers il. Lacroix >und a small silver handled revolver of six arrels, live of which were loaded and one npty, and it was of a size which would irry just such a ball as the doctor had ex acted from the dead man's breast The iree men took their departure, carrying with lem the clothes, papers and revolver. "Wo shall have to return to-night toward ) or 11 o'clock for an experiment which I ish to make. Will you please wait our 5ming?" said Lacroix, as they were about >go. Henriette bowed without speaking. Sh? ad reached the limit of her forces and could 0 longer resist. At about 11 Lacroix returned, accompanied y Tristot and Pivolot, and it was Henriette erself who opened the door for him. She ad tried to imagine what could bo their bject, but vainly. And after ail, what did ; matter? It would only be ono torture more, [either of the detectives entered tho house 'ith M. Lacroix. They remained in the garen, while ho mounted to tho parlor, where e said: "I must ask your permission, madame, to go lto your room for a few minutes only." "What do you wish to do?" "You shall see. It is an experiment." He went into the room. Suzanne was not 1 bed. She had begged so hard of her lotlier not to make her go to bed until they jould have gone. "Oh, mother, mother!" alio had begged, protect mo from that man? Forbid him to ilk to me; he frightens me!" As soon as she saw M. Lacroix she retreated 3 die back of the room, wbile the inagistruta 'eut out 011 the balcony. The night was flendid. The sky seemed covered with stall, diich shone like so many pitying eyes upon lis corner of tho earth, where for two dayi espair had made its habitation. The calm ras so great that there was not even a leaf lirring. Opposite, the cottage of Larouette, lournful uiul deserted since tho assassinson, seemed to animate itself and to live, icfore the open window of the victim's room shadow moved. A candle placed 011 the lble suddenly lighted the scene, the theatre the crime. Lncroix then came and took uzanno by tho hand. She drew back, say'g: "Mamma, mamma, I don't want to go!" Hcnrietto mechanically approached tho llcony, not imagining what M. Lacroix ininded to do, but, suddenly having seen, she nderstood, and drew bock with a cry of error. "No, you shall not do that," cried Che unappy woman, throwing herself between Suuine and M. Lacroix. "It would beonabomlation, an atrocious abuse of power that is ot permitted you. It is enough to have torired us as you have done for the last two ays. You are in my house and in my room, lid 1 have tho right to order you to leave it, nd I do. Go! go!" She was in a state of agitation bordering 11 insanity, and she drew back from M. Laroix, hiding the child's terrified face in hoi 3be. "But reflect, nmdnme," said Lacroix. "I have told you that my child is sick. A :rong emotion may kill her, so delicate and ervous sho is. Have pity upon her, sir. Liid what do you wish anyhow from her) Vrhat of me? Why for two days havo yor ntered by forco into our lives, giving us nc istnnt of repose' A crime has been com litted near us. Is it my fault or hers? You respass upon our rights, and your zeal carries ou too far. A woman's cluunber should bt icrnl to you, and more sacred still th< errors, the tears and the innocence of this hild. Go then, I tell you." She was ungry, felt outraged, and not onlj bat, but hemmed in and helpless, and per aps she would have betrayed herself had o not answered coldly: "Since neither you nor your daughter knows nything of the murder of Larouettc, how an you know that wo are about to rehearse he crime?" She said no more except "Have mercy upor s, oh, Father of the fatherless!" Lacroix said: "Since she saw nothing why is sho afraid: Lnd why does sho not wish to go with me or be balcony?" Suzanne suddenly lifted her .head ant J looked at her with a regard which said plain! ly, "Fear nothing; I am strong." ! And with Lacroix she went out on the bal; cony. Opposite, in the little room, seated before his secretary, was a man occupied with his papers. This was Tristot. Behind him j burned the candlo which shed its light. Lacroix touched Suzanne's shoulder. "Look, child! If you have seen you will remember." Then came up the street a tall man, with a high gray hat, a gray coat with a cape. This was Pivolot, in Roger's clothes. One by one the dreadful scenes of this drama were worked out with remarkable force and precision. "Ono can see perfectly well," said Lacroix, "and it is evident, if they were, as Victoria says, on this balcony, they saw all." During this time he held Suzanne by the hand. He hoped that sfce would show some emotion, make some movement, but not one did sho make. Then he leaned over gently and looked at her closely, and found that her I eyes were tightly closed, and she held them so i with such force that her little face was one moss of wrinkles. She hod willed not to sec, and she had not seen! "Sublime child!" murmured the magistrate; "she has conquered me." TO UK I'U.IIlAUf.U, J . _ , i AMENDED CHARTER OP THE TOWN OP YORKVILLE. i Ax Act to amend An Act entitled "An Act to Charter the Town of Yorkville in the State of South' Carolina," ap! proved December, 23rd, 1886. Suction 1. Beit enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in General Assembly and by the authority of the same: That Section 2 of the said Act of Incorporation be amended, so that said Section, when amended, shall read as follows : "Section 2. The municipal powers of said town shall be vestea in the Intendaut and four Wardens, who shall constitute j the Town Council of the town, each of i whom shall, within its corporate limits, ; be a conservator of the peace. They j shall be citizens of the United States, and shall have resided in this State for twelve months, and in said town sixty days, immediately preceding their election. They shall hold their office for one year and until their successors are elected and qualified." Section 2. That Section 5 of said Act be amended, so that said Section 5, when amended shall read as follows: "SecI tion 5. The Intendant shall, as often as he may deem necessary, summon the Wardens to meet in council, any two of whom with the Intendant, shall constitute a quorum for the transaction of business. They shall have full power, from time to time, under their corporate seal, in council assembled, to make all such ordinances as may be necessary to carry their corporate powers fully into effect; to make all such ordinances as they may deem proper relative to the streets, roads, markets, public squares, public buildings, public scales, weights, measures, fire department, watersupply, Colico and health of said town, and the uildingand maintaining of side walks at the expense of the land owner along whose lot the side walk runs; provided tho owner, after due notice to do so, fails to build or maintain the same; and all such ordinances as may tend to preserve the quietude, peace, safety and good order of the inhabitants of said town, and the protection, security and enjoy mentof their property, and all such ordinances as they may deem proper, prescribing penalties for violations of the Act of February 9th, 1882, regulating the sale of spirituous or intoxicating liquors in the said town of Yorkville, and also looking , to the regulation of the sale of intoxicating liquors by druggists, and to the issuing of prescriptions therefor by phyi sicians within the meaning of Section 10 of said Act as amended by this Act; and they may provide for the enfofcement of all ordinances so made by them, and for any violation thereof, they may pro! vide for the punishment of the same by fine not exceeding fifty dollars or imprisonment in the town prison not exceeding thirty days for each otfence: Provided, That ail ordinances before > taking effect shall be published, for at least eight days in a newspaper $j$Usbed in said town, or if there be ikr such newspaper, in any newspaper published in the county: Provided further, That* all ordinances enacted under the Charter lately expired, except such (in whole l or in part) as may be inconsistent with this Charter, shall be of force in said town the same as if they had been regularly enacted under the provisions of this section: Provided further, That all persons undergoing a sentence of imprisonment may be compelled to work upon the streets at least eight hours a i day during the period of confinement. Section 3. That Section 10 of said Act be amended so that said Section 10, when amended, shall read as follows: "Section 10. So long as the Act entitled 'An Act to prevent the sale of spirituous liquors in the town of Yorkville, in York county,' approved February 9th, 1882, remains of force, the Town Council are hereby authorized and empowered to regulate the sale of such liqttorp made upon prescription by the drugstorta'altuated in said town, in the following particulars : They may, by Ordinance, with , appropriate penalties, forbid druggists to fill any prescription for such liquors, except such as physicians are hereinafter authorized to' issue, and they may, likewise, require the physician giving the prescription, to certify in writing, at the foot thereof, all the facts, the exist1 ence of which allow the prescription to issue, and they may, by resolution, appoint a committee of their body to inspect the files of the said drug stores, and see to it that said prescriptions are made in duo form, and t hat none others are filled, which committee may be required to make up from the files of each drug store, since the preceding inspection, a report of thewhole quantity prescriDea, and the number of prescriptions issued and filled, the names of the prescribing physicians, and the quantity prescribed by each physician. And the Town Council shall be authorized and empowered to require all persons, companies and cori porations now engaged, or who may hereafter become engaged iu business voc*tions, or professions of any kind wbati soever, within the limits of said town, i to take out a license from the TownCouu*> cil, who shall be authorized to impose such charge or tax, for the conduct of tho same, as by Ordinance of the said town mav be provided, and the revenue derived from such license shall be for the public uses of said town; and the Town ' Council may enforce.the payment of such 1 license or tax, in such manner as they may by Ordinance provide." Section 4. That Section 13 of said Act be amended: So that when amended the said Section 13 will read as follows: "Section 13. That all offenses against the Ordinances of said town, and all offenses mentioned in the seventh Section of this Act, shall bo tried before the Intendant of said town, who shall have all the powers within the corporate limits that Trial Justices now have,or may hereafter have, with regard to compelling the attendance of witnesses and imposing punishment 1 for contempt, whether in the trial of cases before him as Intendant, or before tho ' Town Council on appeal, .as hereinafter provided for; Provided, That all persons convicted before the Intendant shall have the right of appeal to the Town Council, upon which appeal the trial shall proceed [ de novo; Ami Provided further, That , said appeal shall be final. In tho Senate House the 24th day of December in the j'ear of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and eigbty-soven. Approved the 24th dav of December, I A. D. 1887. ' At the Aztec Fair. 1 A stvlishlv dressed young lady, leaning > on the arm of a gentleman, stood the other night gazing intently on two dark ' skinned Mexican girls as they worked, > rapidly rolling backward and forward > with a stoue rolling pin on an inclined > stone a putty like substance, over which : at intervals they would sprinkle a few grains of corn. "I didn't know that bread was made in that way," remarked the young lady to 1 her companion, and the gentleman, probably through fear of displaying his ignoi ranee, made no reply. The Mexican girls, r however, paid no attention to the remarks > that were made, but continued rolling the grain and making it into dough by i sprinkling water over it, and the crowd of spectators watched them until, finally realizing that life was too short to wait I for any practical results from so slow and i laborious a process, they wandered off to examine the products of Aztec civiliznl tion.?Philadelphia Times.