LITMIR.BIZ

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way, down the Rue Pierre-Charron.' 'And your whole plan is settled?' 'In every particular. The thing will happen in the square at the end of the Rue de Chaillot. Even granting that there may be people about, they will have no time to rescue her, for we shall act too quickly.' 'Are you certain of your driver?' 'I am certain that we shall pay him enough to secure his obedience. That's all we want.' 'Capital. I'll wait for you at the place you know of, in a motor-car. You'll hand the little woman over to me. From that moment, we shall be masters of the situation.' 'And you of the little woman, colonel, which isn't bad for you, for she's deucedly pretty.' 'Deucedly, as you say. I've known her a long time by sight; and, upon my word..' The two began to laugh coarsely and called for their bill. I at once got up and went to the door on the boulevard, but only one of them came out by that door, a man with a big drooping mustache and a gray felt hat. The other had left by the door in the street round the corner. There was only one taxi in the road. The man took it and I had to give up all hope of following him. Only.. only, as I knew that you left the hospital at seven o'clock every evening and that you went along the Rue Pierre-Charron, I was justified, wasn't I, in believing.. ?"

      The captain stopped. The girl reflected, with a thoughtful air. Presently she asked:

      "Why didn't you warn me?"

      "Warn you!" he exclaimed. "And, if, after all, it wasn't you? Why alarm you? And, if, on the other hand, it was you, why put you on your guard? After the attempt had failed, your enemies would have laid another trap for you; and we, not knowing of it, would have been unable to prevent it. No, the best thing was to accept the fight. I enrolled a little band of your former patients who were being treated at the home; and, as the friend whom I was expecting to meet happened to live in the square, here, in this house, I asked him to place his rooms at my disposal from six to nine o'clock. That's what I did, Little Mother Coralie. And now that you know as much as I do, what do you think of it?"

      She gave him her hand:

      "I think you have saved me from an unknown danger that looks like a very great one; and I thank you."

      "No, no," he said, "I can accept no thanks. I was so glad to have succeeded! What I want to know is your opinion of the business itself?"

      Without a second's hesitation, she replied:

      "I have none. Not a word, not an incident, in all that you have told me, suggests the least idea to me."

      "You have no enemies, to your knowledge?"

      "Personally, no."

      "What about that man to whom your two assailants were to hand you over and who says that he knows you?"

      "Doesn't every woman," she said, with a slight blush, "come across men who pursue her more or less openly? I can't tell who it is."

      The captain was silent for a while and then went on:

      "When all is said, our only hope of clearing up the matter lies in questioning our prisoner. If he refuses to answer, I shall hand him over to the police, who will know how to get to the bottom of the business."

      The girl gave a start:

      "The police?"

      "Well, of course. What would you have me do with the fellow? He doesn't belong to me. He belongs to the police."

      "No, no, no!" she exclaimed, excitedly. "Not on any account! What, have my life gone into?.. Have to appear before the magistrate?.. Have my name mixed up in all this?."

      "And yet, Little Mother Coralie, I can't."

      "Oh, I beg, I beseech you, as my friend, find some way out of it, but don't have me talked about! I don't want to be talked about!"

      The captain looked at her, somewhat surprised to see her in such a state of agitation, and said:

      "You sha'n't be talked about, Little Mother Coralie, I promise you."

      "Then what will you do with that man?"

      "Well," he said, with a laugh, "I shall begin by asking him politely if he will condescend to answer my questions; then thank him for his civil behavior to you; and lastly beg him to be good enough to go away."

      He rose:

      "Do you wish to see him, Little Mother Coralie?"

      "No," she said, "I am so tired! If you don't want me, question him by yourself. You can tell me about it afterwards.."

      She seemed quite exhausted by all this fresh excitement and strain, added to all those which already rendered her life as a nurse so hard. The captain did not insist and went out, closing the door of the drawing-room after him.

      She heard him saying:

      "Well, Ya-Bon, have you kept a good watch! No news? And how's your prisoner?.. Ah, there you are, my fine fellow! Have you got your breath back? Oh, I know Ya-Bon's hand is a bit heavy!.. What's this? Won't you answer?.. Hallo, what's happened? Hanged if I don't think."

      A cry escaped him. The girl ran to the hall. She met the captain, who tried to bar her way.

      "Don't come," he said, in great agitation. "What's the use!"

      "But you're hurt!" she exclaimed.

      "I?"

      "There's blood on your shirt-cuff."

      "So there is, but it's nothing: it's the man's blood that must have stained me."

      "Then he was wounded?"

      "Yes, or at least his mouth was bleeding. Some blood-vessel."

      "Why, surely Ya-Bon didn't grip as hard as that?"

      "It wasn't Ya-Bon."

      "Then who was it?"

      "His accomplices."

      "Did they come back?"

      "Yes; and they've strangled him."

      "But it's not possible!"

      She pushed by and went towards the prisoner. He did not move. His face had the pallor of death. Round his neck was a red-silk string, twisted very thin and with a buckle at either end.

       CHAPTER II

      RIGHT HAND AND LEFT LEG

      "One rogue less in the world, Little Mother Coralie!" cried Patrice Belval, after he had led the girl back to the drawing-room and made a rapid investigation with Ya-Bon. "Remember his name – I found it engraved on his watch – Mustapha Rovalaïof, the name of a rogue!"

      He spoke gaily, with no emotion in his voice, and continued, as he walked up and down the room:

      "You and I, Little Mother Coralie, who have witnessed so many tragedies and seen so many good fellows die, need not waste tears over the death of Mustapha Rovalaïof or his murder by his accomplices. Not even a funeral oration, eh? Ya-Bon has taken him under his arm, waited until the square was clear and carried him to the Rue Brignoles, with orders to fling the gentleman over the railings into the garden of the Musée Galliéra. The railings are high. But Ya-Bon's right hand knows no obstacles. And so, Little Mother Coralie, the matter is buried. You won't be talked about; and, this time, I claim a word of thanks."

      He stopped to laugh:

      "A word of thanks, but no compliments. By Jove, I don't make much of a warder! It was clever the way those beggars snatched my prisoner. Why didn't I foresee that your other assailant, the man in the gray-felt hat, would go and tell the third, who was waiting in his motor, and that they would both come back together to rescue their companion? And they came back. And, while you and I were chatting, they must have forced the servants' entrance, passed through the kitchen, come to the little door between the pantry and the hall and pushed it open. There, close by them, lay their man, still unconscious and firmly bound, on his sofa. What were they to do? It was impossible to get him out of the hall without alarming Ya-Bon. And yet, if they didn't release him, he would speak, give away his accomplices and ruin a carefully prepared plan. So one of the two must have leant forward stealthily, put out his arm, thrown his string round that throat which Ya-Bon had already handled pretty roughly, gathered the buckles at the two ends and pulled, pulled, quietly, until death came. Not a sound. Not a sigh. The whole operation performed in silence. We come, we

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