THE MYSTERY OF MONTMARTRE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11843, 21 December 1901, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE MYSTERY OF MONTMARTRE.

SI 1 CHRISTMAS LOVE STORY.

[BY WILLIAM 12 QTTEUX.]

Christmas ! Christmas here again! Mention of the feast stirs my memory and causes mo certain twinges of conscience.

In those days I was one of a crowd of reckless law students who lived high up in those dingy houses in the Rue Cassette. Three of us lived together in those rickety, dirt-grimed rooms 011 the fifth floor in the. Rue Cassette No. 11, to bo exact. The names of my companions were Fremont and Duquosne.

This record of adventure, however, mainly concerns another. The other was Pierrette,

the dark-eyed, ncat-ankled modiste, employed at Carlier's atelier in the Rue de la Paix. '

j Every man who wore the black velvet cap of the "Cerveau do Paris" knew Pierrette, and all treated her with respe'et, for she never went to the Lorraine or places of that stamp, and in her room over in the Rue Lopio lived her younger sister, who was a confirmed

invalid, Pierrette supported her upon her slender earnings.

Pierrette was exuberant of spirit, chic in dress, however cheap its material; tall, with a figure supple and graceful, and dark hair. All three of us were in love with her, but myself she favoured most of all.

Ah! in those days when all of us believed that wo should one day make France ring with our declamations Pierrette and I built castles in tho air while in the Luxembourg Gardens or in the Bois we walked hand in hand, happy in each other's love. Beneath her bodice she wore, suspended round her neck, the tiny-gold crucifix which I had given her.

The examination list was issued on Christmas Eve, and therein, to my unbounded joy, I found my nam© as having passed my third year in equity. That , night Fremont and Duquesne gave a, punch in my honour, and among the fellow-students was their favourite, my own Pierrette. We broke up about 3 o'clock on Christmas morning, and on going forth into the street found that snow had been falling heavily, but had now ceased, and tho moon was shining. Pierrette bade farewell to my companions and then we trudged through the snow,towards her homo. "I wish, Paul, you would let me go home alone," she said suddenly as we were passing the Jardin du Luxembourg. " Why? You've never wished to go alone before."

"No," she replied, firmly; "bub I wish you to return now. I have a reason.

" What is it?" I demanded.

She hesitated, then answered, in a hard, strained voice :

"I cannot tell you, Paul." "The boulevard is not safe for a girl alone at this hour," I said, decisively. " You must allow me to go with you. Come!" and taking her arm, I walked forward. "No!" she cried drawing back. "I will not allow you to—to run such a risk!" "Bisk? , What do you mean?" I laughed. "It is surely you yourself who would •run a risk by walking alone." Sho would, however, hear no argument. 'If, seemed that with that spirit of perversity which sometimes seizes the capricious sex she had firmly resolved to go home alone. " Come, wish me au revoir, Paul, and let me go," she urged. To-morrow is the fete of Noel. Wo meet at 10, remember." And snatching my hand she raised it to her lips and hurried away. 1" stood by the railings gazing after her in surprise. Soon sho was lost to sight, but had left her shapely footsteps in the snow. Of a sudden a thought flashed through my mind. Was it possible that, during the evening when she had been chatting with my fellow-stu-dents sho had made an appointment to meet one of them? This idea became firmly fixed in my mind. Pierrette, whom I loved with all the strength of my being, was false to me! . -

. I stood there rigid, unable to make up my mind whether to follow her or to turn back homo and wait her explanation on tho morrow. '

In the snow were prints of the feet of two persons going in the same direction those of a man who had passed a short ; time previously, the other of Pierrette. _ She had spoken of a risk, and I think that it was my curiosity which prompted me to follow those footprints. I cannot tell, what streets I traversed, excopt that the footprints led me along the Hue de Medic,is and the Boulevard Michel, across 1 the river, along the Ruo Montm-artro, and then through that maze of narrow, crooked streets "behind tho Boulevard de Clichy. Tho fact »thafc my love had exactly followed the. steps of the wanderer struck me as more than* curious. Further, the footsteps of this wanderer wore strange, inasmuch as one print was large and heavy, the other small and round. I concluded that the follow had a wooden leg. At length, after following the trail half an hour or more, it turned into a dark entry off a narrow, squalid, unfamiliar street and loci across an open courtyard to a half-open door. I went forward and along a creaking passage which led out at right angles. Of a sudden I discerned a light shining from within a room, the door of which had

been left ajar. -.'Noiselessly I crept up and peered in. ' The sight which met my eyes was so startling that I held my breath. ' . Tho room was , a large one, flagged with stones. One of the latter had been taken up and revealed an open grave. Four , evillooking ruffians were there, while upon the floor, wrapped in coarse sacking, lay a body ready for . interment." . Two ' smoking ' lamps threw their uncertain light upon the. scene.' These men were getting rid of the evidence of some terrible midnight crime! •As '•" I watched one of the ruffians, a fellow in the peaked cap of tho Montmartre, emptied a sackful of quicklime into the grave, and then all four raised the body and carried it forward. 1 :.■ i- : - ' . * Beneath the sacking I fancied I detected a movement, and of a sudden a hand was thrust forth. • •. „ - .■ . • It was a woman's hand, slim and white. By tho sleeve of grey silk I knew that it was the hand of my love, Pierrette. " Hold her firmly, Fourneau!" cried a shock-headed fellow in the slang of tho quartier. "Come, fling in tho lingo (girl) and lot us close it down! We've been far too long over this tuilo' (dangerous affair) There burst from my lips a cry which betrayed my presence, arid seeing this I flung myself between tho woman I loved and her enemies. Ere tho latter were aware of it I had torn tho sacking from her, revealing her half clad, stark and dead, with some strange white powder smeared about her face.; The next second I received from behind a crushing blow which felled me to tho ground. Of what occurred immediately afterwards I have not the slightest idea. Tho heavy blow upon my skull—struck, I believe, with tho spado used in digging the graveblotted out all consciousness. My next recollection was of excruciating pains in my head. I opened my eyes, but all was grey and indistinct. For a long time I lay cold, cramped, and confined until at last I gained sufficient strength to turn myself and glance aside. The sight that met my eyes held mo petrified. Lying close to me was a human head severed from tho trunk— a ghastly object that caused mo to start in horror. But worse! That ghastly,, severed head, white and bloodless, with its staring, , wide- ! open eyes and pnlo grey lips, was that of Pierrette. I stretched forth my hand and touched it. Tho cheek was hard and cold. Tho mystery of it was inscrutable. Pierrette, whom I loved better than life, had lied to mo to enter that fatal trap. She who had been the life and soul of our students' carousal was now dead and her body dismembered. I roused myself and sat, dumbfounded, glaring at the hideous evidence of the tragedy. Who were those men ,1 had ; surprised? Why had they any motive for taking the life of a poor, hard-working girl? Surely not to conceal a theft, for poor Pierrette never had in her pocket any greater sum than five francs. And the strange white powder upon her face! Why had it been placed there? She had deliberately gone to that place and had openly told me of the risk I should run were Ito accompany her. Her own actions had been as mysterious as .their tragic outcome. The place in which I found myself was a square chamber, dark save for a ray of light which, struggling through an air-brick at the further end, fell across the pale, dead countenance. There was an odour of damp mouldiness which told me that it was beneath tho earth, while the scuttling of rats showed me that I had plenty of companions. I scrambled to my feet, but so low was that end of the arched cellar that I could not stand upright. Around tho walls I searched to find some egress, but there was no door. The only opening, save the airbrick in the wall, was a barred iron grating about three feet square close to the slimy floor. I tried to wrench it out, but it was too securely clamped in the stonework. Whither that opening led I knew not. My examination, however, proved that it cculd be lifted from the chamber above, and that

there was a round hole in the roof closed by an iron : plate. There were evidences, by the mud,, that the chamber could be flooded and that the grating could be opened like a sluice. •

, I had been caught like a rat in a trap. Any moment my , captors could drown me and , allow my body to be carried away down that dark tunnel to the sewers of the Seine.

I listened. Yes; tho sound I had neard was the low lapping of water upon the wall. Then I guessed the truth. I was imprisoned in one of tho flushing-chambers of the sewers. A touch of that rusted iron lever from above and I should be f-wept into eternity. Moments passed, each seeming a full hour. To devise some means of escape I racked my brain. And all the time lying there in full view was that ghastly head of my murdered love. ■ ■ ' '

I thought I heard her voice, as though faintly articulated words came from that dead mouth besmirschec! by the foul mud with which the floor of my tomb was covered. But. Idas! it was only imagination vagary of imagination that is always precursory of madness. Frantic in my efforts to escape I , kissed those cold, hard, unresponsive lips, then beat my hands upon, tho slimy walls. - To aft the ir.~n grille would avail me nothing, but 'ay attention turned to that single perforated ; brick through tho holes of which came air and tlu l grey light of day. The perforations made it weak, therefore I endeavoured to break it out.. ■ : . Through the small hole I mado I could see that it was still daylight, and that tho snow still lay upon tho ground, lliere seemed a wall about six feet away, a!id against that tho snow had drifted.

Some half-hour later, while I was working noiselessly for dear life, gradually making a hole in which to use the iron bar I had

Broken from the grille as a lever to force out the brickwork, I heard a harsh noiso behind me. Startled, I turned and saw the grille before the dark culvert slowly rising, grating horribly, but lifted gradually into +ho roof of the chamber. Of a sudden there was again a loud grating of rusted iron and part of the floor of the chamber fell away, disclosing a dark abyss. ' There was a terrible stench, a loud crackling and rumbling of waters beneath, then tho black tide rose, filling the great hole and gradually flooding the place.

It was as I had anticipated. My captors intended to get rid of me, but ice in the sower had blocked its passage and tho water did not rush through at once, as no doubt it usually did, rising to within a. few inches of the air-brick.

I turned my attention again to those loosened bricks, standing up to my waist in the turbid flood and striving desperately to save my life. At last, just when the water bad reached my armpits, X succeeded in forcing out a portion of the masonry, making a hole through which I squeezed forth into the outer air.

I found myself in a courtyard surrounded by high walls. Darkness had fallen. I knew that it was Christmas evening and that I had existed in that noisome sewer-chamber for

many hours. Through the door of an adjoining house I crept noiselessly, fearing lest my enemies were there, and quickly gained the street. Hurrying along through several narrow turnings I emerged into the Place Pigalle and there informed a policeman of what had occurred.

He noticed the muddy state of my clothes and told me that I had been drinking. I repeated my story, but the fellow would not believe me. So 1' went to the chief polico officer of the arrondissement, but I saw'by the manner of the officer who interrogated mo that my story was discredited.

However, lie sent a detective with mo and we set forth to investigate. Although it was early the facades of the cabarets where the Montmartrois singers chant their audacious songs were already illuminated. But tho arms of the " red windmill" had not yet begun to swing, the Abbaye de Theleme had not awakened to life, the Montmartre had not yet shaken off the mock respectability which it assumes by day. Arrived at the Rue Fontaine* we took the first of the narrow streets on the left behind the Boule-

vard do Olichy, when the bewildering truth flashed upon. me. In my hurry to inform the police I had taken no notice of the house from which I had emerged. The detective laughed when ho witnessed my perplexity. "Come," said ho, "you've dropped off to sleep in the gutter somewhere and imagined it all. Tell m© the truth now." What could I do? I went up to the Rue Lepic, saw Pierrette's invalid sister and learned, as I expected, that she had not returned. I told the poor girl nothing of tho truth, but left to continue my search.

I searched diligently and well. Through the three> years I remained in Paris I never relaxed in my efforts, yet that maze of dark streets, with their houses and dingy sunshutters all so closely resembling each other, baffled mo.

I left Paris at last. For years I drifted hither and thither across two continents. I forsook the profession for which I had studied, took up literature, struggled hard, and at last became known.

The denouement of the strange drama in Montmartre only occurred last July, and a remarkable denouement it proved to be. My wanderings had taken me back to Paris to pilot- some English friends around the exhibition, and having done most of tho attractions, from the moving sidewalk to the Algerian dances, it was suggested that I should take them to so© other "sights."

One of my companions expressed a desire to enter tho "Cabaret of Hell/' It was a small place, the entrance .grinning demon's mouth with monster fonguo, terrible ■ teeth, and glaring green eyes. Painted black and red and illuminated by red- Jights its facado

was certainly attractive' . uiwnwl T 'l trasfc to tho counter atk\™ i » .. Heaven," j m next door. m,, f v¥ oi th In all of my wandering,, , . _ . ol tered there because of a' s hon-or W( which I cannot explain, i l ''" we C] went, passing through tha, V into ti a dimly lit cavern, the blac^S' °*8 vhic h were covered with creeping, if ° niters 01 where in . a great cooking-pot | ' devil's; angels were .playing g?» °'o |l a devil in Mephistophelian :rfj -, w to seats at an illuminated table, of W _i, ag: which rendered our countenances**. ? ' ■ V • death .« •. V d as di Presently, at orders from Satan, w, , into a second cavern, more gruesoiF® a 1 tho first, and when all was quiet a Tthc nlights lowered the * man : explained til, - y , was about to show us the tortures in p for sinners. ' \ u At tho end of the cavern a piece of V j c wall fell away suddenly, disclosing; a st?, j r which caused me'to spring from my seat a, cry aloud. - •'> p In the darkness before 'me was a woman i 0 a beautiful dark-haired woman in a white clinging,robe representing an angel. . \ , In an instant I recognised her. It was my' own Pierrette!. . < /, . , ■■■■'*

Sho was standing upon a pile of faggots, chained as a martyr to a stake, and the devil bent to tho wood and ignited it. The flames leaped up round her ere I could rush forward, "but my wild progress was barred by a couple of Satanic attend-, ants, the performance was abruptly stopped, and my love vanished.

Her fcco" was the same sweet, angelic countenance that it had been ten years before. She had not aged a singlo hour since that night when I had seen her in tho hands of her enemies. ■.: ; v

I pressed forward to the man who called himself Satan, called him aside, and demanded an interview with her.

"Ah! monsieur," he laughed. "I fear that it. is quite impossible. What you see is only an optical illusion thrown upon a mirror." '

But she is concealed somewhere hero and reflected. I must speak with her at once I" ;

" Come and see," lie said, and conducting mo through a passage lie showed mo my love standing there erect, motionless, with her bare, white arms outstretched— a statue in hard, cold wax! "From whence did you obtain this?" I demanded, quickly. "I bought it eight years ago from old Jean Poirier, the showman. With his partner, Delport, lie was one of the most clover manufacturers of wax figures," ho explained. "This is his masterpiece and is no doubt cast from life. I paid 700 francs for it. We call it ' The Beautiful Face.' But you know the original? Who was she?" " Tell me first. Did Poirier have a wooden leg?"

"No; but Delport had.' Both aro dead." "Where did they live?" "Both lived at the back hero, in the Rue Gunnard. They had their workshop on the ground floor. The house hid some murder mystery, for when the place was "pulled down there was found beneath the cellar a quantity of bones buried in quicklime. Only one thing may lead to. tho identification of one of the victims—a small gold crucifix and chain which the police have." ''Tell me," I asked. "In taking casts of a living person is there danger of death from suffocation?" :

"Of, course great danger. My own belief is that tho bones are those of women who died under old Poirier's hands while taking casts of them,' the man replied, frankly. That same night I saw, at the Prefecture of Police, the little gold crucifix and recognised it as the one I had given Pierrette. The police agreed that the woman I had loved had been enticed to old Poirier's by an offer of money, and, being suffocated while the plaster cast was being taken the pair had hurried her secretly.

The severed head placed with me in that fatal chamber was, no doubt,, an imperfect one of waxthe first taken from tho mould. To-day any visitor to the "Cabaret de lEnfer" may see the reflection of ;my lost love, Pierrette, and to-day, as I write, the" tiny gold crucifix, my only present to tho pure, honest woman who loved me, hangs upon my watch chain.