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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, April 26, 1913, NOON EDITION, Image 2',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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"I do not think I shall .wait until
ten o'clock," he said. "I ,am vvearied
andwoCrd go. home to rest" .
Then . he walked over to the bed,
and laid his Hand upon His one-time
friend's head. He twisted the head
around until the , right-temple was
uppermost, and then, he carefully,
placed, his revolver against it.
"This sh'ot always is sure death,"
Then he fired.
The woman beside the man shriek
ed. , - "
Then he walked from the room out
on to the street, and he-still was
The woman is now In a lunatic
Intheend, the capture of Lacombe
was ridiculously easy. .
Tviro country town constables,
whom he did not imagine knew him,
.recognized him at a country fair. He
jyas. eating candy andenjoying the
sights." . .
The two "jay" policeman had
handcuffs dn Lacombe before he,rea
lized what "was" happening, 'They
searched, him. They found two revol
'vers, -two" dynamite bomb's, three
knives "and forty different kinds of
poison Tan , him!
"But as L&combe was being taken
to .Paris dim the Red jyiaiilen he still
"You'll never guillotine me," he
told his captbrs- easily.
And. 'one morning, while walking
in .the Paris prison yard, with his
three guarcls "Lacombe, suddenly
broke irom jthem, and drew himself ,
like "a. cat, 1o a.low ropf
From that roof he passed to a
higher one, and before "his 'guards
could get him, he was sitting, still
smiling, oh a roof 50 feet above the
He ore tiles from this roof, arid
threw tnem ax tnose wno ,tnea to roi
low him. He" felled several.
"Do. not trylo get me," he told the
guards below. '"I shall not come
down until you bring- my lawyer."
groater than Godr-I -hold vdeath in
my hand here. AwTGo'd cannot pre
vent me using death.''
The hysterical woman began a
ghastly, blasphemous prayer to La
combe. In her terror she addressed
him as "The-man-who-i3-greater-than-God."
Lacombe listened to her pitiful
plea. He "listened while her voice
rose in shrill accents. He listened as
her voice fell into low,, passionate
sobbing. And all the time he smiled.
And when the woman at last lay
quivering on the bed, her face buried
:n the pillows, silent from sheer ex
haustion, Lacombe said to her:
"There is no use in praying to me.
I cannot be moved. I,vhb am
greater than the God you prayed to,
cannot be moved by such exhibitions.
The woman's voice rose in a last
"I must ask you not. to makeso
, much noise," said Lacombe. v
And he still smiled.
All night long Lacombe played
with the man find the wife, torturing
them, Jeering at theirvterror.
flow he would raise his gun as if
to shoot. And the man and the wo
man would cower' down in the bed.
Now he would walk oyer to the bed
and place his gun against the man's
' "So you would tell the police on
mc, would you?" he wouid ask.
And always he smiled, that same
doadly, cold smile.
The sun rose in an unaccustomed
burst of midwinter glory and'its rays
flooded the room. The , man and
woman turned their faces to it and
seemed to see hope.
But Lacombe only smiled.
"Look well on that sun," he said.
"It is the last you ever will see."
Seven o'clock, struck. Eight,
o'clock. Nine o'clock. '
Lacombe rose smilingly from the
easy chair in which he had passed
the night. He picked a flick of cot
ton wool from his" coat. He examined