Evening Star Newspaper, September 8, 1929, Page 111

—— PRRTS ELL all I know is just what I read in the funny papers. Things been mighty quiet along the Political front here lately. Mrs. Poindexter kinder went into a huddle against Peru, but it was kinder short. The Charge de affairs of that Country wouldent argue. He just up and packs his dress suit and went home. It seems she had brought some native Peruvian up here with her, and when he got here and found the price of “Mescal,” why*he wanted more money, s0 he went to the Peruvian Embassy and they told him he should have more money and that he could work there for them till something showed up that was in keeping with his talents, so that's that, Mr. Hoover took a lot of week-end guests out, and instead of fishing as they thought they would get to, why he put 'em all to carrying rocks to build a dam, so now he is having trouble getting week-enders. This fellow Philip Snowden over in the lsbor Governmeént grabbed all glory of the conference to distribute the dough that Ger- many is to pay. I don’t know how much money he is going to get out of it but he cer- tainly grabbed the front page and went south with it. You know I met him when I was over there. I first met his wife at Lady As- tors (and by the way she is a very brilliant woman, and has been a great aid to him so they say). Then I met him. His Party was out of power then and he wasent very partice ular. 1 dident pay any more attention to it than to meeting a Democrat. But now I can recall him that he is back in again. Well you know England has béen the Daddy of the Dip- lomat, the one with the smooth manners. But still be going after what he wants but always the Gentleman. You know that’s one thing about an Englishman, he can insult you, but he can do it so slick and polite that he will have you guessing till away after he leaves you just whether he was friend or foe. Well, when this new Chancellor of the Ex- cheaquer (that's perfect English for Secretary of the Treasury) well when this Snowden Lad got to the conference where they were splitting up the Jack, why instead of coining a few polite phrases, he just up and sald even before he had said Ladies and Gentlemen, he just saia in what really was not their English, “Boys, I am here for some more dough. In the divvy. I feel that the British Empire was handed the Hooey, and I amn here to see that amends are made in a financial'way. I don't want to be rough. I want to be a Gentleman as long as possible. BUT under the auspices of the Prince of Wales and the Kings Royal Navy, I am here “QUIET ALONG THE POLITICAL FRONT” —Says PVzll Eoge_rs- THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGT ON, - The Author-Comedian, However, Predicts That Something May Happen in the Near Future—The Situation In England. P o i '\ , YoV fe}w,..fif DINNER TiLL «t{“ DaAMS FINISHED, “Hoover makes his guests haul rock.” for collecting purposes. Now it don’t make any difference to me who pays it, but just let it be here, Get Me? Well nothing like that had ever been heard since Heflin defied the entire Vatican. Here - was an Englishman asking for something with- out diplomacy, in fact he wasent asking for it, he was just telling them who's doorstep to leave it on, and he left mighty explicit direc- tions, so they wouldent get the wrong step. Well the other Nations went right in secret and meditative conference and up to the time The Invisible Web, a M ystery Story by Continued From Sevcntesnth Page me to go into that room with the bunks without any difficulty, but I was fool enough to imagine I'd deceived them. . “The first thing I knew, some one pulled my legs from under me, and there I was tied hand and foot. But something occurred to alarm them, for they didn't search me and I man- aged to get rid of my ropes. But I thought it best not to escape, since I had as yet learned nothing. So I crept along the passage until I reached the courtyard. A Chinese lad was fortunately passing just as I opened the gate and I bribed him to take that message to you. Then I went back and slipped the ropes over my wrists and ankles again. “Le Breton was in & little room with some of his men. There’s a ship due this night, and they won't have time to warn those on board nor the men in the launches. If we hurry we may still catch them. I gathered from their talk that this is only one of their small depots. They've got a villa on the shore near Cicotat, where everything is taken as it comes off the ships.” N HOUR later two fast cars crowded with detectives rushed along the Corniche road without lights, while my friends and I were cutting through the placid Mediterranean in the fastest of the revenfie launches. We had seen a big China steamer pass the Chateau D’If on her way to the harbor and as we drew near the rocky headland of the Ciotat we were just in time to surprise a fishing boat dragging a dripping bundle from the water. Two other boats immediately headed for shore, but we knew that our signal would be seen and that the cars would arrive in time to catch them as they landed. . ‘When dawn came we had rounded up the last of the gang, and a squad of detectives were in possession of the villa. Later in the day, the leader, Le Breton, was arrested in a hotel in town. Our success was complete, for the correspondence found in the villa Myrtil led to the discovery of the smugglers’ base on the Rhone, and their distributing center in Lyon, from which the goods were sent to Paris. I at once sent a telegram to Laughton, who arrived in Marseille the next day, as we were about to return to the smugglers’ villa. “I did not expect you to succeed so quickly,” he remarked by way of greeting. “But you say nothing in your wire about Alex Couturier, Have you not been able to verify whether Le Breton and he are one and the same? Have you not taken his finger prints?” “No,” said Voltaire. “Of course not. He admitted that he was Le Breton, and since we do not possess the prints of Alex Couturier we could not prove that Le Breton and Coutu- rier are one.” “Well, I've brought the smmggler's Bertillon chart. There are several scars on his body and some tattooing also. I shall be able to find out from his wife if her husband was tattooed in the same manner. I'll come with you to the cells and talk to the fellow.” When we arrived at the depet we found Dur- and in excited discussion with the chief of the identity department. “Here's a funny thing,” he cried the mgment he saw us, “we've just measured Le Breton and taken his finger prints, and they don’t corre- spond with those on the chart which Paris sent us at all.” Laughton sprang forward excitedly. “So you have a chart? That's good. I was just going to take the prisoner’s prints. Did you notice if he had a ring tattooed on his little finger and & full length picture of a girl on his back?” “There is no tattooing of any kind on him,” Durand exclaimed. We looked at each other in amazement, but Levallois at once guessed what the solution was. “This fellow is not Le Breton,” he. cried. “Where are your wits? Probably his leader will pay him well for taking his place. Mean- while the master criminal is on his way to safety.” “Quite impossible,” the chief of the identity department cried. “I've photographed the man, and there’s no mistaking the resemblance to his former prison picture. Paris put the pho- tograph on the wrong card, that is all.” “Well, I'll look at him anyway,” Laughton said; “taking me to his cell.” When we entered we saw a dark, middle- aged man, who certainly did not look the des- perado Le Breton was supposed to be. “You are not Le Breton, eh?” Laughton said. “Who are you?” “I'm tired of telling you who I am,” the man growled; “my name is Le Breton, and all my pals will confirm it. I know what’s waiting for me, so why should I take a name that’ll prob- ably cost me several years in prison, if it were not mine? Your colleague there says my fin- gerprints are wrong. I can't help that. You've probably made a blunder.” ]JAUGH’I‘ON said nothing more, but when he got outside he laughed shortly. “You've got the wrong man, Durand. Le Breton is still at large; I advise you to spread your nets in a hurry or he'll get away. That man is Alex Couturier, though why he should want to im- personate a criminal beats me, for Couturier was, to the best of my knowledge, an honest and fairly wealthy man. We'll say nothing. His wife shall be sent for and tomorrow we’ll confront them.” 5 The next morning Mme. Couturier, a hand- some, vivacious brunette, arrived at headquar- ters, where we waited expectantly. The chief at once sent for the prisoner and requested the wife to wait ip another room, cautioning her not to come in until she heard him say: “Very well, you shall stand your trial, then.” When the man was led in by a gendarme, I saw at once that his courage was ebbing. Those long days and nights in a police cell had daunted him. He was woefully pale and his lips trem- bled. The chief looked at him with a grim smile. “Well, my friend, I see you are finding your feet again. Almost a home-coming for an old lag like you. to get back in the cells, eh? By the way. what was the number ef your cell at—at—now, let- me see, which prison were you in?” The poor fellow looked startled. It was easy to see that he had never been in prison, His face twitched and he gulped miserably, but at last he said: “You know my record, so why ask me?” “Then you persist in the absurd comedy that you are Le Breton, eh? Very well, you shall stand your trial.” At the signal the door opened, and Mme. Couturier came in hesitatingly, her eyes fixed longingly on the prisoner. Suddenly with a glad cry of *‘Alex, Alex, my darling, oh, why did you leave me?” she darted: forward and threw her arms around his neck. The unex- pected apparition was too much for the poor fellow; he clasped the woman convulsively, while long sobs burst from him. When he had recovered somewhat, Laughton asked sharply: “Come now, monsieur, we want the truth. Why were you posing as the leader of these smugglers?” Feature for feature, the two men, the panting, breathless ne\v: arrival, and the man he had caught the day before, were the same. “Le Breton,” the latter yelled, starting up; “then I didn’t kill you. Thank God!” “Kill me,” the other snarled; “no fear, you only knocked me senseless.” And so at last the fantastic story came out. Alex Couturier while a student in Paris, had become entangled with a waitress in one of the the girl was of the dregs, without a single Te- deeming quality. After two dreadful years they had sepa- rated, and while he was on a visit to his people in Nimes, he had read in the papers that she had been killed in a brawl. The years passed, and he had fallen in love just when his affairs began to prosper, but since h: did-not possess a certificate of the death of his first wife, he had said nothing, and married the who was now beside him, as a bachelor. For a year he had been perfectly happy. loved his wife, and she was devoted to And then suddenly a létter came informing him that his first wife was not dead. The letter which purported to be from her night, to Marseille. in the buffet at the station and bring him to her. WHEN he arrived, a Chinese had conducted him to the Villa Myrtil, where Le Breton had suddenly appeared. Couturier had been amazed at the man's resemblance to himself. Without giving him time to recover, the smug- gler calmly informed him that the whole thing was a plot. The woman he had married as a student wes D. C. SEPTEMBER & 1929, of going to press they are still passing the hat. They dident quite have the total amount but Tiad borrowed some lead pipe and were reporting progress. I read the whole thing over and it looks like they got a mighty just claim. England wasent geiting as much as Charley Dawes had given them. So for awhile it looked like there might be another war over the spoils of the last one. But anyhow this Labor Government has spoken right out, and they got the “Gentlemen” with em in Eng- land, too. o It's hard to unite both classes over there. For a Gentleman in England is a man that disagrees with whatever the laboring Party want. But now they all agree, for this means money, and where there is money involved (coming in) you can generally interest what is humorously called the “better classes.” . Well our arguments are starting now. This Tarriff, it's what started Politics. It's w started Partys. It split Washington and erson, what will it do with Borah and Pat overandhflveanothucrwk-t. #t's this same v ‘5 EEE °§E§Eg§ ggzflp :l § Eisk gE I £t i E § PE8E E;ag«z Ragp : b vallois of the headquarters and clever work. (Copyright, 1929.) The value of the wild plants that now many such as seal are cultivated. The former at $5 a pound yields about $2,000 an acre laticr up to $5,000.