Evening Star Newspaper, June 8, 1895, Page 16

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. HRON LE LE ie ICLES oF MARTIN HEWITT (Copyright 1895, by the anthor.) I have already safd in more than one Place that Hewitt's personal relations with the members of the London police force were of a cordial character. In the course of his work it has frequently been Hewitt’s hap to learn of matters on which the po- lice were glad of information, and that in- formation was always passed on at once; and so long as no infringement of regula- tions or damage to public service was in- volved Hewitt could always rely on a re- turn in kind. It was with a message of a useful sort that Hewitt one day dropped into Vine Street police station and asked for a par- ticular inspector, who was not in. Hewitt sat and wrote a note, and by way of mak- ing conversation said to the inspector on duty: “Anything very startling this way today?” “Nothing very startling, perhaps, as yet,” the inspector replied, ‘but one of our chaps picked up rather an odd customer a little while ago. Lunatic of some sort, I should think—in fact, I've sent for the doctor, to see him. He’s a foreigner—a Frenchman, I believe. He seemed horribly weak and faint, but the oddest thing occurred when one of the men, thinking he might be hun- Bry, brought in some bread. He went into fits of terror at the sight of it, and wouldn't be pacified till they took it away again. ‘That was strang “Odd, wasn’t it? And he was hungry, too. They brought him some a little while after, and ine didn’t funk it a bit. Pitched into it, in fact, like anything, and ate it all with some coid beef. It's the way with The Man Looked Up With a Dull Ex- pression. fome lunatics—never tho same five minutes together. He keeps crying like a baby, and saying things we can’t understand; as it happens, there’s nobody in just now who speaks French.” “I speak French,” Hewitt replied; “shall I try him?” “Certainly, if you will. He's in the men’s room below. They’ve been making him as comfortable as possible by the fire, until the doctor comes. He's'a long time; I ex- pect he's got a case on.” Hewitt found his way to the large mess room, where three or four policemen, in their shirt sleeves, were curiously regard- ing a young man of very disordered ap- pearance, who sat on a chair by the fire. He was pale, and exhibited marks of bruises on his face, while over one eye was a scarcely healed cut. His figure was small and slight, his coat was torn, and he sat with a certain indefinite air of shivering suffering. He started and looked round ap- prehensively as Hewitt entered. Hewitt bowed smilingly, wished him good day, speaking in French, and asked if he spoke the language. ‘The man looked up with a dull expression, and, after an effort or two, as one who stutters, burst out with “Je la ni “ “That's strange,” Hewitt observed to the men. “I ask him if he speaks French, and he says he denies it—speaking in French.” “He's been saying that very often, str,” one of the men answered, “as well as other things we can’t make anything of.” Hewitt placed his hand kindly on the man’s shoulder, and asked his name. The reply was for a little while an inarticulate gurgle, presently merging into a meaning- less medley of words and syllables: “Qu’est ce qu-il n'a, Leystar Squar—sacre nom—not spik it—quel chemin—sank you ver’ mosh— fe la nie, je la nie!” He paused, stared, realizing his helplessness, tears “He's been a-cryin’ two or three tim said the man who had spoken be was a-cryin’ when we found him Several more attempts Hewitt made to communicate with man, but, though he gcemed to comprehend what was meant, he replied with nothing but meaningless gib- ber, and finally gave up the attempt, and, leaning against the side of the fireplace, buried his head in the bend of his arm. Then the doctor arrived and made his examination. While it was in progress Hewitt took aside the policeman who had been speaking before and questioned him futher. He had himself found the French- man in a dull back street by Golden square, where the man was standing helpless and trembling, apparently qnite bewildered and very weak. He had brought him in, with- out having been able to learn anything about him. One or two shopkeepers in the street where he was found were asked, but knew nothing of him—indeed, had never seen him befere. “But the curfosest thin the policeman proceeded, “was in this and then, as though into he burst e room when I brought in’a loaf to give him a bit of snack, seein’ he looked so weak an’ hungry. You'd ‘a thought we was a- goin’ to poison ‘im. He fairly screamed at the very sight 0’ the bread,an’ he scrovged hisself up in that corner an’ put his hands in front of his I couldn't make out what was up at first—didn’t tumble to it’s bein’ the bread he was frightened of, seein’ as he looked like a man as ‘ud be frighten- ed at anything afore that. But the nearer I came with It the more he yelled, so I took it y an’ left it outside, an’ Imed down. An’ s’elp me, when bits off that there very loaf em in with a bit o° bee he went for ‘em Hke 1 o'clock. He wasn't frightened o’ no bread th ou bet. Rum thing how t es tukes ‘em’ when the're a bit tox in’t it? All one way all the other th one minute; “Yes, it ts. next. f a dozen, if you like.” ‘One will be enough. I am going over to speak to the doctor. Wait awhile, until he And Immediately Turned It Bottom Side Up on the Table, geoms very quiet and fairly comfortable. Then bring a loaf in quietly and put {t on the table not far below his bow. Don't attract his attention to what you are do- ing.” The doctor_stood looking thoughtfully down on the Frenchman, who, for his part, stared gloomily but tranquilly at the fire: Place. Hewitt stepped quietly over to the doctor, and, without disturbing the man by the fire, said interrogatively, ‘‘Aphasia?’ The doctor tightened lips, frowned and nodded significantly. Motor,” he mur- tured just loudly enough for Hewitt to hear, “and there's a general nervous break- down as well, I should say. By the way, perhaps there’s no agraphia. Have you tried him with a pen and paper?” Pen and paper were brought and set be- fore the man. He was told, slowly and dis- tinetly, that he was among friends, whose only object was to restore him to his proper health. Would he write his name and ad- dress and any other information he might care to give about himself on the paper before him?- The Frenchman took the-pen and stared at the paper. Then slowly and with much hesitation he traced these mark: The man paused after the last of these futile characters, and his pen stabbed into the paper with a blot as he dazedly re- garded his work. Then, with a groan, he ‘dropped it, and his face sank again into the bend of his arm. The doctor took the paper and handed it “Complete agraphia, you see,” He can’t write a word. He be- gins to write ‘Monsieur’ from sheer habit in beginning letters thus: but the word talls off into a scrawl. Then his attempts become mere scribbles, with just a trace of some familiar word here and there, but quite meaningless, all.” Although he had never before chanced to come acress a case of aphasia (happi rare disease), Hewitt was acquainted with its general nature. He knew that it might arise either from some physical injury to the brain, or from a breakdown consequent on some terrible nervous strain. He knew that in the case of motor aphasia the suf- ferer, though fully conscious of all that goes on about him, and though quite under- standing what is said to him, is entirely powerless to put his own thoughts into spoken words—has lost, in fact, the con- nection between words and their spoken symbols. Also that in most bad cases agraphia—the loss of ability to write words with ary reference to their meaning—is commonly an accompaniment. “You will have him taken to the infirm- ery, I suppose?’ Hewitt asked. Yes,” the doctor replied, “I shall go and see about It at once.” The man looked up again as they spoke. The policeman had, in accordance with Hewitt's request, placed a loaf of bread on the table near him, and now, as he looked , he caught sight of it. He started and paled, but gave no such signs of terror the policeman had pre- rved. He appeared nervous however, and presently reached stealthily tinued to talk to the doctor w! watching the Frenchman's behavior from toward the loaf. Hewitt con- le closely the corner of his eye. called a “p of solid and regu- lar shape; the man reached it, and im- mediately turned it bottom up on the table. Then he sank back in his chair, with a more contented expression, though gaze still directed toward the loaf. The policeman grinned silently at this curious maneuver. The doctor left, and Hewitt accompanied him to the door of the room. “He will not be moved just yet, I take it?” Hewitt asked, as they parted. “It may take an hour or two,” the doctor replied. “Are you anxious to keep him here?” “Not for long, but I think there’s a curi- ous inside to the case, and I may perhaps learn something of it by a little watching. But I can’t spare very long.” The loaf is what is CHAPTER II. At a sign from Hewitt the loaf was re- moved. Then Hewitt pulled the small table closer to the Frenchman, and pushed the pen and the sheets of paper toward him. ‘Tke maneuver had its result. The man looked up and down the room vacantly once or twice, and then began to turn the paper ovec. From that he went to dipping the pen in the inkpot, and presently he was scribbling at random on the loose sheets. Hewitt affected to leave him entirely alone, and seemed to be absorbed in a contemp!: tion of a photograph of a police division brass band hanging on the wall, but he saw every scratch the man made. At first there was nothing but meaning- less scrawls and attempted words. Then rough sketckes appeared of a man’s head, a chair or whatnot. On the mantelpiece stood a small clock, apparently a sort of humble presentation piece, the body of the clock being set in a horseshoe frame with crossed whips behind tt. After a time the Frenchman's eyes fell on this, and he be- sketch of it. That he relin- , and went on with other random s and scribblings on the same piece ef paper, sketching and scribbling over the sketches in a half mechanical sort of way, as of one who trifles with a pen during a Lrown study. Beginning at the top left- hand corner of the paper he traveled round it till he arrived at the left-hand bottom corner. Then, dashing his pen_ hastily across his last sketch, he dropped it, and with a great shudder turned away again, and hid his face by the fireplace. Hewitt turned at once and seized the papers on the table. He stuffed them all into his coat pocket, with the exception of | the last, which the man had been engaged on, and this, a fac simile of which is sub- jeined, he studied earnestly for several minutes, 02, | BS . , ‘ pm ete Hewitt wished the man his way to the insp the inspector said. ‘Not much to be got out of him, is there? The doctor will be sending for him presentl aid Hewitt, “that this may turn out a very important case. Possibly quite possibly—I have not guessed correctly, and so I won't tell you anything of it till I Know a little more. But what I want now is a messenger. Can I send somebody at once in a cab to my friend Butt at his chambers ?”” ‘Certainly; write a note Hewitt* wrote and dispatched a_ note, wh ched me in less than ten minutes. Then he asked the inspector: “Have you searched the Frenchman?” “Oh, yes; We went all over him when we found ke couldn’t explain himself, to see if we could trace his friends or his address. He didn’t seem to mind, but there wasn’t a single thing in his pocket—not a single thing, barring a rag of a pocket handker- chief with no marking on it.” “You noticed that somebody had stolen his watch, I suppose?” “Well, he hadn’t got one.” “But he had one of those little vertical buttcnholes in his waistcoat used to fasten a watehguard to, and it was much worn and frayed. So that he must be in the habit of carrying a watch, and it ts gone.” Yes, and everything else, too, eh? Looks like robbery. He's haa a knock or two in ‘ace—notice t! e bruises and the cut, of course; collar has been broken ‘away with button—semebody has taken him (Was he wearing a good day, and to I'll find somebody. Want to at. left a house. ir What street was he found street, a lttle off Golden Square. Low street, you know.” “Did the constable notice a door open near by?” The inspector shook his head. “Half the doors in the street are open,” he said, “pretty nearly all day.” his | “Ah, then there’s nothing in that. don’t think he lives there; by the bye, fancy he comes from more in the Seven Dials cr Drury Lane direction. Did you rotice anything about the man that gave you a clue to his occupation, or, at any rate, to his habits?” “Can't say I did.” ‘Well, just take a look at the back of his coat before he goes away—just over the lIcins. Good-day.” As I have said, Hewitt’s messenger was quick. I happened to be in, having lately returned from a latish lunch when he ar- rived with this note: “My Dear B.: I meant to lunch with you today, but have been kept. I expect you are idle this afternoon, and I have a case that will interest you—perhaps be use- ful to you from a journalistic point of view. If you care to see anything of it, cab away at once to Fitzroy Square, south side,where I'll meet you. I will wait no later than 30. Yours, MM EL” had scarce a quarter of an hour, so I seized my hat and left my chambers at once. As it happened my cab and Hewitt's burst Into Fitzroy from opposite sides al- most at the same moment, so that we lost no time. “Come,"” said Hewitt, taking my arm and marching me off, “we are going to look for some stabling. ry to feel as though you'd just set up a brousham and had come out to look for a place to put it in. I fear we may have to delude some person with that belief presently. “Why, what do you want stables for? a why make me your excuse?” ‘As to what I want the stables for—real- ly, I'm not altogether sure myself. As to making you an excuse—well, even the humblest excuse is better than none. But ecme, here are some stables, Not good enough, though, even if any of them were empty. Come on.” We had stopped for an instant at the entrance to a small alley of rather dirty stabl and Hewitt, paying appar but nall attention to the stables them 1 looked sharply about him, wi aze in the air. I know this part of London pretty well.” Al Hewitt observed, 1 T can only remember one other range of stabling near by; we that. As a matter of fact, I'm here on little more than conjecture, T shall be sv sed if there isn’t pthing in it. Do you know anything of a2” ve heard of it, of course, though I say I remember ever Knowing a curious ve seen one today—very > man’s a Frenchman, dis in the street by a policeman « he can say that has any in it at all is ‘Je la nie,’ and tha ally, without jn the knowing whit he leas is saying. -And he can’t st Papers on the Table. write, But he got sketching ing various things on some paper, and his scrawl: tegether with anoth thing or two, have given me an id fol- lowirg it up no When w busy, and in a quiet place, I will ou the sketches and explain thin, Ny; there's no time new, and I m want your help for a bit, in which case jgnorance may prevent you spoiling thf you clumsy rufilan. Hullo! here we are, 1 think. We had ctcpped at the end of another stable yard, rather dirtier than the first. The stables were sound, but inelezant sheds, and one or two appeared to be a voted to other purp having low chim- neys, on one of which an old basket was rakishly set by way of cowl. Beside the entrance a worn-out old board was naiie with the legend, “Stabling to Let,” in le ters formerly white, on 2 ground formerly black. “Come,” sald Hewitt, We picked our w blestones and looke was the wall incto: ow nd on the right the ‘0 doors in the middle of these were open, and a butcher's young man, who with his shin bullet head, would have been known a butcher's young man anywhere, was wiping over the new-washed wheel of smart butcher's cart. “Good day,” He the_ young man. stabling to let inquire about i fd plea ther s giving the ‘But there's only I think, and‘it ht! Which is tha’ but one to the st 1 it for wood choppin’, There ain't room key an’ a barrow.” “Ah, that's a pity. We're not particular, but want something big enough, and we don’t mind ng a fair price. Perhaps rrangemen body here who has a stable ‘The young man shook his shouldn’t think so,” he said “they're mostly shop people the room themselves. M do nothink, I know. These ‘ere two su ain’t scarcely enough for all ’e want it Is. Then, there’s Barkett, the 1 grocer ‘ere, next door. That ain’t no g¢ Then, next to that there's the little pl as It to let, and at the end there’s Griifith’s at the butter shop.” “And those the other way?" doi “Well, this ere first one’s Curtis’, road—that’s a*butter shop, the next after that. The last one, the end—I dunno quite who: ain’t been long took, but I b'lieve i foreign bakers. I ain't ever sce come out of it, though, but there's z there, T know—I seen the food took in.” Hewitt thoughtfully away. “Thanks,” he “T suppos manage it, then. Good day CHAPTER IIL. He walked to the street as the butcher's young man wheeled in his cart and flung away his patl of water. “will you just hang about here, Butt he asked, “while I hurry round to the nearest ironmonger’s? I shan’t be gone long. We're going to work a little bur- glary. Take note if anybody comes to that stable at the further end.” He hurried away and I waited. In a few moments the butcher’s young man shut his doors and went whistling down the street, and in a few moments wore Hewitt appeared. Come,” he said, “there’s nobody about now; we'll lose no time. I’ve brought a pair of pliers and a few nails. We re-entered the yurd at the door of the court stable. Hewitt stooped and ex- amined the padlock. Taking a nail in his pliers, he beat it carefully against tl brick wall. Then, using the nail as a-key, still held by the pliers, and, working the “Good day,” Hewitt Said Pleasantly to the Young Man. padlock gently in his left hand, In an as- tonishingly few seconds he had reieased the hasp and taken off the padlock, “I’m if same not altogether a bad burglar,” he remark- ed. “Not so pad, really.” The padlock fastsaed a bar, which, when removed, allowéd ‘the docr to be opened. Opening it, Hewitt immediately seized a candle stuck in a hottle which steod on a shelf, pulled -né in ani closed the ceor behind us, “We'll do this by candle light,” he said, as he struck a ‘tiktch. “If the door were left open It would be seen from the street. Keep your ears open in case anybody comes down the yard." ” The part of thé shed that we stood in Was used us a ¢gach house, and was oc- cupied by a rather shabby tradesman’s cart, the shafts 6f which rested on ‘he ground. From the, stall adjoining came the sound of the shuffling and trampling of some impatient horse. We turned to the cart. board at the side, were painted in worn letters the words,. “Schuyler, Baker.” The address, which had been below, was paint- ed out. Hewitt took out the pins and let down the tailboard. Within the cart was a new bed mattr. Which covered the whole surface of the bototm. I felt it, p eg it from the top, and saw that it was dinary spring mattress, perhaps rathe usually soft in the springs. 5 On the name roun- ed a curious th: to keep in a baker's cart. Hewitt. who had set the candle on a con- venient shelf, d his arms into the furthermost of the cart, and long French loaf, and Diving again, he produced of the sort known as the two sets of four each, ther in a row. * said Hewitt, and I Imost as hard as a large pocket knife and with emed to be superfluous care a jon cut into the top one of the cottage loay Then he inserted hi fing in the gap he had made and firm): y the crumbs from nothing left but a er shell. , rather to himself than to othing in th He lifted ot asured it It had bef 5 notic r than Jammed Hewitt the in, inside of the cart in fact, it held produced his knife ag: $ loaf in the cente Sn but bread in that. he stall tidgeted more n't been fed .” Hewitt said. “We'll bit of this hay in th what ahout this bread? pect to find in it? I ca driving at 2” Hewitt 1 ; ething T expect to find, and 1 here, too. How are your Pretty steady? ‘The thing them,” could reply there in the yard out lifted his whisp if he coi t ag id Hewitt aloud, door. “He ad been 7 through rd i half w him by the shor Like lightnins ppe in my left ins him. vefore shout called fe est Sou! equally sile struggle the hely i and w It was « eapture robedy from the str we had been too busy “The! s hanxing over at the “E think we'll tie him up v no’ ing like leat ade aw a snapped 4 never been a and ugly of hair and bex eature, nd now un ldenly droy oner by the s which stood in which he had him still," sail Hew! “we nined this nd a the 1 Presently a la pleee of sackcloth was revealed, and thi & lifted lett vistbie it another ort a a dozen of the only t below ch of loay had seen in the in one about Uh » in the cart wa. utch Jay bottom sid I of the and fered from tho: tion; for the “That's enou their posi- up. he had rch,” vas in th when t picked up t has saved See, you s interrupted wr two of ti ve told 3 course. ar h nhombs, as ynamit loa bomb inside each of Uios sh I you I don't mean med- with them now. But, s and bring in a fou! it right down the yard do, and we mustn't ani found the the loaves, the ow plat here was mber of simultaneously in dif- t parts of the city. 1 had, urse, 1 much of the terrible 4 bombs—those bombs which, containing a tube of acid plugged by required no fuse, and only needed to be inverted to be set going to explode in a few minutes. The loaves containing these bombs would form an effectual “blind,” and they were to be distributed, probably in broad day- ible, ing light, in the most natural manner po: in a baker's cart. A man would be w near the scene of each contemplated ex- plosion; he would be given a loaf taken from the inverted batch; he would take it, perhaps wrapped In paper, but still in- verted, and apparently the most innocent object possible, to the spot selected, deposit it right side up Gvhich would reverse the inner tube and set up the action) in some quiet corner, behind a door or whatnot, and make his own escape, while the explo- sion tore down the walls, and, if the experi- ment were lucky, ~scatter the flesh and bones of unsuspecting people. The infernal loaves were made and kept reversed to be- gin with, in order to stand more firmly, and (if observed) more naturally when turned over to explode. Even if a child picked up the load and carried it off, that child, at least, would be blown to atoms, which at any rate would have been some. thing for the conspirators to congratuiate themselves upon. The spring mattress, of course, was to ease the jolting to the bombs, and obviate any random. jerking loose of the acid which might have the de- plorable result of sacrificing the valuable life of the conspirator who drove the cart. The other loaves, too, with no explosive contents, had their use. The two long ones which fitted across the inside of the cart would be jammed across so as to hold the bombs in the center, and the others would be used to pack the batch on the other sides and prevent any dangerous slipping about. The thing seemed pretty plain, ex: cept that as yet I had no idea of how Hev {tt learned anything of the business. I brought the four-wheeler up to the door of the stable, and we thrust the man Into it, and Hewitt locked the stable door with its proper key. Then we drove off to Totten- ham Court road police station, and, by Hewitt’s order, straight into the yard. In less than ten minutes from our de- parture from the stable our prisoner was finally secured, and Hewitt was deep in consultation with police officials. Messen- gers were sent and telegrams dispatched, and presently Hewitt came to me with in- formation. “The name of the helpless Frenchman the police found this morning,” he said, “appears to be Gerard—at least, I am al- most certain of it. Among the papers found on the prisoner, whose full name dcesn’t appear, but who seems to be spoken “Lam not altogether a bad burglar!” of as Luigi—he is Italian—among the papers, I say, is a sort of notice convening a meet- ing for this evening to decide as to the final punishment’ to be awarded the ‘traitor now in char; Comrade Pin- 1.’ "The place of meeting is not men- ned, but it seems more than probable it will be at’ the Bakunin Ciub, not minutes’ walk from ‘this place. The have all these places under quiet ob- five n, of cou d that is the club at which apparently important anarchist meetings have been held. It is the only club that has never been raided and it would seem the only one they would feel gt all safe in using for anything important. oreover, Laigi simply? declined to open his mouth when asked where the meeting was to be, and said nothing when the names of several other places were sug- 1, but suddeniy found his tongue at mention of the Bakunin Club and de- nied vehemently that the meeting was to there—it was the only thing he uttered. 0 that it seems pretty safe to assume that to be there. Now, of course, the mat- s very serious. Men have ‘been dis- tched to take charge of the stable very quietly, and the club is to be taken posses- sion of at once—also very quietly. It m he done without a moment's delay, and there is a chance that the only detec officers within reach at the moment may be known by sight, I have undertaken to get in first. Perhaps you'll! come? We may bave to take the door with a rush.” Of course, I meant to miss nothing if I could help it, and said so. “Very well,” replied Hewitt, ‘we'll ret selves up a bit.” He began taking off ollar and tie. “It is getting dusk,” ne loth e ours look sufti LDV. Loth wearing bowle: ach is. i Make a dent in your: ou can without jermanently damaging it. CHAP! Vv. We got rid of our collars and made isers of our ties, We turned our coat p at one side only, and then, wih worn ratisly and our hands pockets, we looked disreputaple enough for all practical purposes in twi- light. A cordon of plain clothed police had already been forming round the club, we were told, and so we sallied forth, We turned into Windmill street, crossed Whit- field street, and in a turning or two we came to the Bakunin Club. I could see no sign of anything like a ring of police- n, and si so. Hewitt chuckled. “Of course not, id. “They don’t go of thi ms beat- about a job flying. But they are all there, are watching us. There is the house—I'll negotiate.” The house was one of the very shabby, sort that abound in that quarter, y narrow area was railed over and hoked with rubbish. Visible above vere three floors, the lowest indented by the door and one jow, and the other two by two windows each—mean and dirty all, A faint light eared in the top floor, and a mewhere behind the ‘pefuse-heaped verywhere else was In darkne looked intenttly into the area, but it was imposisble to dis- cern anything behind th imy patch of window that was visible. Then we step) lightly up the three or four steps to the door and rang the bell. We could hear slippered feet mounting a stair and appr A latch was shift- ad, the door opened six inches, an indistinct d, and a female voice asked: amarade . Vite.” * Hewitt grunted test- J had noticed that the door was kept from opening futher by a short chain. | T chain the woman unhooked from tae but still kept the latter merel s though Intending to assure herself further. But Hewitt immediate the deor hack, nted his foot aj tered, asking carelessly ui se trouve Lu his heel: could just distinguish t and in the dark at Hewitt pushed Hewitt Said. the woman instantly against the wall and clapped his hand to her mouth, At the same moment a file of quiet men were sud- denly visible ascending the steps at my heels, They were the police. The door was closed behind us almost noiselessly, and a match was struck. ‘Two men stocd at the bottom of the stairs and “That's enough, I thin the others searched the house. Only two men were found, both in a top room. They were secured and brought down, The wo- now ungageed, and she used her tongue at a great rate. One of the men was a small, meek-looking slip of a fellow, and ke appeared to be the woman's hus- band. Sh, messieurs le police,” she exclaimed vehemently, “it ees not of ’im, mon pauvre Pierre, zat you sall run in. ‘Im and me— we are not of the clob—we work only—we housekeep.”” Hewitt whispered to an officer, and the two men were taken below. Then Hewitt spoke to the woman, whose protests had not ceased. “You say you are not of the club,” he said; “but what is there to prove that? If you are but housekeepers, as you say, you have nothing to fear. But you ean only prove it by giving the police in- formation. For instance, now, about Gerard. What have they done with him?” “Jean Pingard—im you ‘ave take down- stairs—e ’ave lose ‘Im. Jean Pingard get last night all a-boosa—all dronk like zis”— man rolled her head and shoulders to express intoxication—‘‘and he sleeps too much to- day when Emile go out and Gerard—he go too, and nobody krow. I will tell you any- sing—we are not of the clob; we housekeep; me and Pierre.” “But what di he went away?” - ‘The woman was ready and anxious to tell anything. Gerard had been selected to do something—what 1t was exactly she did know—but there was a horse and cart and he was to drive it. Where the horse and eart were she also did not know. But Gerard had driven a cart before in his work, for a baker, and he was to drive one in connection with some scheme among the members of the club. But le pauvre Gerard at the last minute disliked to drive the cart—he had fear. He.did not say he had fear, but he prepared a letter—a letter that ' was not signed. The letter was to be sent to the police, and it told them the where- abouts of the horse and cart, so that the police might seize these things, and then there would be nothing for Gerard, who had fear, to do in the way of driving. No, he did not betray the names of the com- rades, but he told the place of the horse and the cart. Nevertheless, the letter was they do to Gerard before never sent. There was suspicion, and the letter was found in a pocket and read. Then there was a meeting, and Gerard confronted with his letter. He could s: nothing but ‘Je la nie’—found no ey tion but that. There was much nois she had observed from a stair which one might see through a ventilating hole. Gerard had much fear—very much fear. His face was white and it moved; he prayed for mercy, and they talked of kill- ing him. It was discussed how he should be killed, and the poor Gerard was more terrified. He was made to take off his col- lar, and a razor was drawn across his throat, though without cutting him, till he fainted. Then water was flung over him, and he was struck in the face till he re- vived. He again repeated “Je la nie, je la nie!” and nothing more. Then ‘one struck him with a bottle and another with a stick. The point of a knife was put against his throat and held there, but this time he did not faint, but cried softly, as a man who is drunk, “Je la nie, je la nie!” So they tied a handkerchief about his neck and twisted it till his face grew purple and black, and his eyes were round and ter- rible, and then they struck his face, and he fainted egain. But they took away the handkerchiefs, having fear that they could not easily get rid of the body if he were killed, for there was no preparation. So they decided to meet again and discuss when there would be preparation, Where- fore they took him away to the rooms of Jean Pingard in Henry street, Golden square. But Emile Pingard had gone out, and Jean was drunk and slept and they losi him. Jean Pingard was downstairs—the taller of the two. The other was but le pauvre Pierre, who, with herself, was not of the club. They worked only—they were the keepers of the house. There was noth- ing for which they should be arrested, and she would give the police any information y might ask. s I thought, you see,” Hewitt said to the man's nerves have broken down the terror and the strain, and phasia is the result. I think I told you ulate thing he could say nd now we know how sed on him till he now pronounces them mechanically, with no idea of their meaning. Come, we can do no more here now. But v t a moment.” There were footsteps le. The light was policeman went to the me, under a Newitt Immediztely Pushed the Door in, one after another, immediately shut behind Three men steppe and the door w them. They we prisoners. We left quietly, and, although we, of course, expected it, it was noi till the next morning that we learned absolutely that the largest arrest of anarchi ever made in this country was made at the Bakunin Club that night. Each man as he came was admitted, and—collared. CHAPTER V. We made our way to Lazatti’s, and it was over our dinner that Hewitt put me in full possession of the earlfer facts of this case, which I have set down as impersonal narrative in their proper place at the be- ginning. “But.” I said, “what of that aimless scribble you spoke of that Gerard made in the police station? Can I see it?” Hewitt turned to where his coat hung behind him, and took a handful of papers from his pocket. ‘Most of these,” he said, “mean nothing at all. That is what he wrote at first,” and he handed me the first of the two papers which were presented in fac simile in the earlier part of this nar- s begun e ‘Mon- But s three letters before ing off into sheer scribble. He tries aj and again, and, although once there and once is something very like ‘que’ thing like a word preced ‘n, the whole thing he handed me the o} been printed in fac ; mean something, though Gerar: ended it. Can you spot the m 2? Really, I think pretty plain, espect you know as much as i about the day's adventures. ‘Th at the top left-hand corner, I may tell you, Gerard ii ded for a sketch of a clo Ipiece in the police station ly new that I stared hard at the paper, but could make nothing whatever of it. “I only see the horseshoe clock,” I said, “and a sort of second unsucces: to draw it again. Then there is a ho hoe dotted, but scribbled oy a sort of kite or balloon on a st’ hlander, and— well, I don’t understand it, I confe Tell me. Tl explain what I learned from that,” Hewitt said, “and also what led me to look for it. From what the inspector told me I judge the man to be in a very curious State, and I took a faney to see him. Most I was curious to know why he should have a terror of bread at one moment and eat it ravenously at another. When I saw him I felt pretty sure that he was not mad in the common sense of the term. As far as I could judge, it seemed to be a case of asphasia. Then, when the doctor came, I had a chat (as I have already told you) with tho policeman who found the man. He told me about the incident of the bread with rather more detail than I had had from the inspector. Thus {t was plain that the man was terrified at the .bread only when it was in the form of a loaf, and ate it eagerly when it was cut into pieces, hat Was one thing to bear in mind. Ho s not afraid of bread, but only of a loaf. Very well. I asked’ the policeman to find another uncut loaf and to put it near the man when his attention was diverted. Meantime the doctor reported that my sus picion as to aph s right. The man er comfo sured as among friends and had nothing so th wi that he w to fea thing to do. s uneasy—the turning of the loaf seemed to have set his mind at rest in some way! This was more curious still. I thought for some little while before ac- cepting the bomb theory as the most prob- ab “The doctor left, and I determined to give the man another ‘chance with pen and y per, I felt pretty certain that if he were Ench Man as He Cnme Was Admitted. allowed to scribble and sketch as he pleased, sooner or later he would do some- thing that would give me some sort of a hint. T left him entirely alone and let him do as he pleased. But 1 watched. “After all the futile scribble which you have seen he began to sketch. First a man’s chair—just what he might happen to see In the room. Presently he took to the piece of paper you have before you. He observed that clock and began to sketch it. Then went on to other things, such as you see, scribbling idly over most of them when finished. When he had made the last of the sketches, he made a hasty scrawl of his pen over it and broke down—it had brought his terror to his mind again—somehow. “J seized the paper and examined it close- ly. Now, just see. Ignore the clock, which —== was merely a sketch of a thing before him, and lock at the three things following. What are they? A horseshoe, a captive balloon and a Highlander. Now, can't you think of something those three things in that order suggest?” I coulu think of nothing whatever, and I confessed as much. “Think, now. Tottenham Court road.” I started. “Of course,” I said, “that never struck me. There’s the Horseshoe Hotel, with the sign outside; there’s the large toy and fancy shop halfway up, where they have a captive balloon moored to the roof as an advertisement, and there’s the tobac- co and snuff_shop on the left toward the cther end, Where they have a life-size wooden Highlander at the door—an uncom- mon thing, indeed, nowadays. “You are right. ‘The curious conjunction struck me at once. There they are, all three, and just in the order in which one meets them going up from Oxford street. Also, as if to confirm the conjecture, note the dotted horseshoe. Don’t you remember I Seized the Paper and Examined It Closely. that at night the Horseshoe Hotel is illu- minated by two rows of gas lights? Now, here was my clue at last. inly, this man in his mechanical sketching was fol- lowing a regular train of thought and un- consciously illustrating it as he went along. Many people in perfect health and mental soundness do the same thing if a pen and a piece of paper be negr. The man's train of thought led him in’memory, up Totten- ham Court road and further, to where some dis ble recollection upset him. It was my business to trace this train of thought. Do you remember the feat of Dupin in Poe's story, ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’— hew he waiks by his friend’s side in silence for some distance and then suddenly breaks out with a divination of his thoughts, hav- ing silently traced them from a fruiterer with a basket, through paving stones, Epi- curus, Dr. Nichols, the constellation Orion and a’ Latin poem by a cobbler lately turned actor? Well, it was sofme such task as this (but definitely simpler, as a matter of fact) that was set me. This man_ begins by, drawing the horseshoe clock. Having done with that, ard, with the horseshoe still in his mind, he starts to draw 4 horseshoe simply. It is a failure, and he scribbles it out. His mind at once turns to the Horse- shoe Hotel, which he knows from frequent- ly passing it, and its sign of gas jets. He sketches that, making dots for the gas lights. Once started in Tottenham Court road, his mind naturally follows his usual route along it. He remembers the advertising captive balloon half way down, and that goes on his paper. In imagination he crosses the road and keeps on till he comes to the very noticeable Highlander outside the tobacconist’s. That is sketched. Thus it is plain that a familiar route with him was from New Oxford street up Totten- ham Court road. At the police station I ventured to guess from this that he lived somewhere near Seven Dials—perhaps, be fore long we shall know if this was right. But to return to the sketches. After the Highlander there is something at first not very distinct. A little examination, how- ever, shows it to be intended for a chim- ney pot partly covered with a basket. Now, an old basket stuck sidewise on a chimney by way of cowl is not an uncommon thing in parts of the country, but it is very. un- usual in London. Probably, then, it will be in some by strect or alley. Next, and last, there is a horse’s head, and it was at this that the man’s trouble returned to him! Now, when one goes to a place and finds a horse there, that place is not un- commonly a stable. And, as a matter of fact, the basket cowl] would be much more likely to be found in use in a range of back stabling than anywhere else. Sup- pose, then, after taking the direction indl- cated in the sketches—the direction of Fitzroy Square, in fact—one were to find a range of stabling with a basket cowl visie ble about it? I know my London pretty, well, as you are aware, and I could re- member but two likely stable yards in that particular part—the two we looked at, in the second of which you may possibly have noticed just such a basket cowi as I have been speaking of. Well, what we did you know, and that we found confirma~ tion of my conjecture about the loaves, you also know. It was the recollection of the horse and cart, and what they were to transport, and what the end of it all had been that upset Gerard as he drew the horse’s head. You will notice that the sketches have not been done in separate rows, left to right; they have simply fol» The Loaves Were Examined by Off< cial Experts. lowed one another all around the paper— which means preoccupation and uncon- sclousress on the part of the man who m. “But,” I asked, “supposing those loaves to contain bombs, how were the bombs put there? Baking the bread round them would have been risky, wouldn't it?” “Certainly. What they did was to cut the loaves, each row down the center, Then most of the crumb was scooped out, the explosive inserted and the sides joined up and glued. I thought you had spotted the joints—though they ‘certainly were neat.” I didn’t examine closely. , had been told off for a daily visit to feed the horse, and that is how we caught him. One supposes so. Lugi, of They hadn't rearrang- ed their plans as to going on with the outrages after Gerard's defection. By the way, I noticed that he was accustomed to driving when I first saw him. Ther an unmistakeable mark on his cont—j at the small of the back—that drivers get who lean againet a rail in a cart.” The loaves were examined by official experts, and, as everybody now kno 1, large charges ‘of dynamite. What me of some half dozen of the men aptured is also well known—their sen- terces were exemp 4 —_— > GIRL BABIES’ NAMES. At Present Dorcthy is the Ruling Favorite of Fond Young Parents. From the Philadelphia Times. The most popular name to bestow on a baby girl at this time 1s Dorothy, evident- ly, for out of 178 girls’ names in the cata- logues of the babies whose portraits were shown at a recent baby display fourteen bere Dorothy. Next in favor was Mar- jorie, spelled even Marjourie. Ruth, which is generally supposed to be the favorite, owing to its connection with the White Heusewasn’t In the race for popularity, as only three infants were so named in the in returns. Helen or Helene came favor. Kate or Katherine hol-ls and Mary and Marie were well ah next with Gladys and Elizabeth. Such n Beatrice, Josephine, Anita, Eleanor, a, Alice, M 2e, Flor were twice represented, but the widest variety figured. It that much greater independence is shown now than formerly in christening the femi- nine portion of the population. W or more children in a family wer s if there an attempt to sel, name in In one family there we Marion and Marjorie, . If that family doesn’t turn out well then there is nothing in the effect of a name. Drenna was one of the oddest names; Serane another. There were two Bettys, one dear Peggy, a Mollie, three paeeee one Lorna Doone and an Yo le.