SYNOPSIS.

       The junior member of a private firm of detectives in New York becomes interested in a deserted house, opposite which he happens to take a room. While watching it during a convalescence from illness, the blinds of one of the windows are opened suddenly, disclosing the figure of a small man who waves his hand and disappears. Three days later the detective receives a mysterious letter, appointing an hour to call. He looks across at the deserted house, shading his eyes with the letter. The figure reappears and repeats its signal. That evening the detective arms himself, pushes open the iron gate of the deserted house and enters.

PART III.

       I found that I had gained the yard, or small court, which properly belongs to every New York house. Enclosed as it was on three sides with its high, smooth palings, and on the fourth by the house from which I had but just escaped, it seemed at first glance as neat a trap as a man could well wish himself well out of. I stopped for a moment to listen for any sign from my pursuers, but all, lay still and dark behind me. They would, I thought, scarcely venture from a house which was supposed to be unoccupied, into a place where so many windows could look down upon them. I remembered that the house stood not many numbers from the street corner, and that the avenue upon that side had no buildings to face it. The row of "yards" lay inclosed only by their white palings. An escape, therefore, meant no more, after all, than the scaling of some ten or a dozen of these fencings, and my assailants naturally would consider that I could easily accomplish this, not knowing how my strength was already wasted. I crouched, meanwhile, to rest in the deep shadow cast by the house, being invisible from any of the windows unless a light were held. This I knew they would not dare to do any more than they would engage in a struggle, to bring me forcibly back, since by so doing they must inevitably attract notice to themselves.

       I do not know how long I lay crouching there. The summer air that night had an evil chill in it which crept gradually into my bones. A kind of apathy came over me which made me oblivious to the surrounding strangeness. For the moment the twinkling lights in the houses about, the soft sounds of children's voices, and the chattering tongues of the servants, borne above the dull roar of the streets, had little meaning for me. The danger I had passed through was forgotten; to the danger I was still in I was oblivious.

       I was awakened to it by the sound of a window being slowly and carefully raised somewhere above my head. Shifting slightly my position, so that I could look up and still remain unseen, I saw Jackson peering cautiously down into the shadow. He drew in his head and again looked out, apparently but half satisfied with the poor opportunity his position afforded him. Some one inside whimpered an inaudible direction to him, and the window was lowered. No doubt he was preparing to come down. I got to my feet therefore, and felt my way along the wall until my hand came in contact with the paling. It was covered in the corner nearest the avenue with a straggling, but long-limbed creeper of some sort, which clung partly to the brick wall of the house itself and partly to the wood. It was but a poor support, but by grasping with my hands the top of it, I was about to let myself down into the next yard, when a sound of voice whispering together somewhere near, arrested my attention. A little above me was the last row of three windows in the second story of the House with Green Blinds. By getting my feet upon the top of the fence and standing upright, I could see that the glass was lowered slightly from the top. The blinds inside were closed, so that the room beyond was invisible. I had not a moment to decide upon which course I should pursue, for below me I heard Jackson coming along the passage to make his exploration of the yard. Again clinging lightly to the vine, I stretched out my foot until it touched the stone coping of the window. A light push of the other against the paling, little more dependence upon the creeping plant, which happily had fastened itself strongly against the wall, and I was standing upright in the shallow recess of the window. As Jackson came out of the shadow in which I had just been lying, I could see him plainly. He was followed by the taller of the other two men, and they made the round of the yard together, coming even to stand close under my feet and looking up at the vine. Satisfied, apparently, that I had made my escape at this point, they then returned to the house.

       I heard them set up the broken door against its hinges and go back along the passage. The drawing-room in which I had so lately been evidently connected with the room from which my window opened, for by putting my ear close to the aperture I heard the two men enter and announce the surety of my escape. They went on then to talk rapidly in the language they had used together, madame's voice ever rising distinctly and calmly above the excited tones of the men. Finally, however, she seemed to take things into her own hands, for her voice alone became audible, the sentences dropping crisply from her lips as when she had given me her commands. All that I could gather of their conversation, however, were the words "Tuxedo," followed by the name of the man who keeps a great establishment there. Then, after a few more apparently decisive directions, the party seemed preparing to separate. I could hear nothing more of the girl who had saved my life. Her voice had not joined in the colloquy, and I decided that she had not been present while it was in progress, and that probably she had left the house as quietly as she had come. There seemed nothing farther to be gained by remaining in my present position. I let myself back, therefore, to my former place upon the top of the paling and from there laboriously made my way, with what aid I could find, from one yard to another until once more I found myself upon the street. Weary as I was, I could not yet allow myself the luxury of rest. As I walked rapidly along toward the goal to which I was bound I forced myself to think rapidly over my adventure and some circumstances with which it was connected. The chief of them was my familiarity with madame's wonderful voice. A peculiarity in the human voice was something I had trained myself never to forget. I had no difficulty in recalling the time and place in which a voice singularly like hers, but proceeding apparently from a very different source, had first attracted my attention.

       Some 18 months before I had been in England, where I had been so fortunate as to gain the friendship and esteem of a man whose pleasure it was, with the genius which had been given him and the great skill which he had acquired, to unravel the mysteries and to discover the dangers which too often surround our fellow men and women. At the time of my visit he had been engaged in unearthing an atrocious plot which threatened the existing government. The scheme had developed almost to the point of the perpetration of a great crime, when my friend's foresight succeeded in capturing and bringing to the bar of justice the ringleaders themselves. With the usual caution and conservativeness of the English nation, the whole affair had been handled with extreme secrecy and fear of public knowledge. Being kept almost entirely out of the newspapers, few people knew anything of it and the details of the case went little further than the court. Through the interest of my friend, by whose sagacity the plot had been discovered, I was privileged to witness the trial. One of the prisoners had strangely interested me. He was singularly prepossessing in appearance; a curling mass of dark hair, worn rather long; eyes that burned like veritable fire; the contour of his face lengthened by the addition of a well-groomed beard, cut closely in the French fashion; his hands and feet small and finely cared for; his figure slender. In fact, the very opposite in personality and tradition to the usually accepted anarchistic idea. Yet devotion to the cause he had adopted seemed the very breath he drew. His voice, high in quality of tone for a man as was hers low for woman, was, as I recalled it, very strangely similar to that in which madame of the White Shoulders had but lately addressed me. I distinctly remembered the particulars of the trial and its strange outcome. The boy — he seemed scarcely more — had been convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment at hard labor, with other members of the gang. They were taken at once to Portsmouth. Upon the third morning after their incarceration, his cell, together with those of one or two of the others, was found empty. The bars had been neither filed nor broken, but simply unlocked. Suspicion attached itself to one of the jailors, who, in turn, was arrested, tried for conniving at the escape of the several prisoners, found guilty upon strong circumstantial evidence, (although stoutly protesting his innocence), and condemned to a long term of imprisonment. The only trace of the convicts which could be found was the several suits of prison stripe which they had exchanged in a small clothier's shop in Portsmouth during the night for more modish costumes.

       There was but one link connecting this affair with the one in which I was now implicated — a human voice; but yet, to me, from the study I had given the subject, it was no slight connection. I had seen enough to know that a plot of some grave import was hatching in the House with Green Blinds, and that my own appearance upon and disappearance from the scene would by no means retard matters. Whatever the nature of it might be (and I had my own opinion as to this) I had seen and heard enough to know that they could scarcely draw back now.

       There was no time to lose, therefore. My goal was the shop of a man well known to our profession — a costumer and secret dealer in professional disguises. In half an hour I issued from it as well set up a clergyman as one could wish to see. My next move was to trace the girl who had spoiled madame's aim, and in doing so had undoubtedly saved my life. I had noticed, as she stood under the brilliant glare of light in the drawing-room of the House with Green Blinds, that her hat and veil and gown were covered with shining particles of black dust a kind which collects rarely but during a railway journey. She had entered the room hurried and breathless, as though she had been walking rapidly. Had she come in from any station other than the Grand Central, which was but a few blocks away, it seemed to me, from her evident desire for haste, that she would scarcely have taken time for walking. I possessed myself, working upon these suppositions, of a time-table, and found that an accommodation train which had P—– (whither madame had commanded me to go the next day) for one of its stations, had arrived but a few minutes before the time of the girl's appearance at the House with Green Blinds. No other for the came station was scheduled to depart within six hours. It was now nearly 12 o'clock, and there remained but one thing to do before allowing myself a few hours of much needed rest. This was to have an interview with my chief and explain to him the details of an affair which it had grown out of my power to control unaided. I found him just leaving his club, and explained the thing to him carefully, together with my own plans and ideas. He was kind enough to commend them and to allow me to go on as I had intended, leaving practically the entire management in my hands, but giving me the benefit of his advice and placing whatever assistance I desired at my disposal. I sent Ray, of the department, therefore, together with another young fellow from our own office, to my rooms to watch whatever might go on in the opposite house and to dog anyone who might issue from it, though the latter seemed to me a needless precaution.

       Before six o clock, having in the meantime been refreshed by a few hours' sleep at the Hotel B—–, I was strolling, without apparently other aim than that of waiting for my train, up and down through the waiting room of the Grand Central station. It was not long before my expectation was fulfilled. The girl entered the waiting-room and went immediately to the ticket office, where she purchased a ticket to P—–. What set me back, however, was the appearance of the person who followed close behind her, I could not have sworn to his identity, but the resemblance was a marked one. The hair, escaping from under his soft hat in wavy richness; the well-groomed appearance; the small hands and feet, were all in evidence. The chief difference lay in the fact that now his beard was worn rather long and of a jet black color, whereas the man whom I had seen tried and convicted of a grave charge in her majesty's criminal court some 18 months before, had worn a light-brown imperial. This, of course, was a matter easily changed by one who wished to disguise himself, and after I had caught a glimpse of his eyes, as they flashed for an instant brilliantly into mine, the resemblance, even the very identity of the man with the one I had seen, was borne more forcefully upon me. And yet, I had seen those eyes, or others like them, more lately. Through the holes of the satin mask they (or was it but a resemblance?) had questioned me not yet 12 hours before, and the same strange attraction in them held me now as then.

       He did not seem to be in company with the girl for whom I had waited (for she took no notice of him at all, and, after buying her ticket stood quietly waiting for the gate to open), but, as well as I could make out, was there as a spy upon her movements and on the lookout for some one else. He had stationed himself near her in a position where everyone who went through the gate must pass under the searching of his eye. I had noticed, however, that he had purchased no ticket, and I perceived that my only chance of an interview with the girl would be in following her on board the train. Had he been sent by the people from the House with Green Blinds to see, without her knowledge, that no one approached her and that she was safely out of town without a chance of betraying them (for that they mistrusted her had been evident enough)? He would scarcely allow a person against whom he had the slightest suspicion to follow her through the gate. I had no knowledge of his being acquainted with my own appearance, and yet, even while he might not have been present the night before at our interview, there had been plenty of time for any member of the organization to become familiar with my face while they were watching me in my rooms and before the signal had been given to me by Jackson. My only hope, therefore, was that my disguise would pass muster. As it happened chance favored me in more ways than one. As I was following the other passengers through the door which led to the train I passed very close to the man as he stood carelessly watching. The woman in front of me — an old woman, laden with a huge and heavy basket — dropped a small pocket-book. He stooped and picked it up, returning it to her courteously, and in doing so I saw that his beard was false. The next moment I was through the gate unchallenged and had assured myself that he remained behind.

PART IV.

       I followed the girl into the car and seated myself behind and near her. She had sunk into the corner of the seat in an attitude of utter weariness and discouragement. I owed her my life, no doubt, and I felt for her at the moment, beside gratitude, a sincere pity. Yet I was on the point of asking her, to risk still more than she had already done. There was no other way. I looked around at our fellow-passengers — the old woman with her basket; a boy who was audibly sleeping; and a young man who was seated in front of the car, absorbed in a yellow-covered novel. There was not one whom I could suspect of watching us. I went, therefore, without further hesitation, to take the place in front of her and, with as much non-chalence as I could command, asked her if she could tell me the name of the man who had followed her into the station.

       For a moment she seemed startled, and shrank still further back, but a glance at my cloth seemed to reassure her.

       "I saw no one," she, replied. "I came quite alone"

       It never occurred to me to doubt her. I knew, whatever the character of those with whom she had been associated, that she, at least, was innocent — an unwilling tool in their hands. I told her, therefore, in as few words as possible, who I was, and tried first of all, to thank her for what she had done for me, while she was kind enough to express pleasure in learning of my escape. I then went on to beg of her that, if she were in trouble, as I felt that she was, to let me help her. I explained without reserve my connection with the House with Green Blinds, and all I hoped to accomplish with the knowledge I had concerning it. She listened quietly while I told her, and I saw a look of wistfulness, of longing, of resolve, grow in her great dark eyes. Finally it came.

       "I will tell you what I know," she said; and there were tears in her voice though her eyes were dry. "There is no other course. I had no hope of doing anything, but now you may be able to do what I cannot." And she told me the following:

       Her name was Cutting; and with her father — a widower — she lived at P—–. The winter before they had spent in Washington, where, at a reception given at the white house, her father first had met Madame of the White Shoulders — as I still must call her. This woman was a stranger in the cosmopolitan, city, a magnificently handsome woman, part French, part Russian, and was said to be a sister of one of the members of the Russian legation. Her beauty had created a sensation; Miss Cutting's father had fallen under the spell. Madame seemed to exercise a strange influence over him. He became strange, moody, irritable. He was often absent upon sudden and unexplained journeys, from which he returned dejected and, apparently, frightened and desperate. The cause Miss Cutting herself had never known until her connection with the affair began, but a few weeks ago. At that time new aid had been needed by the gang of which she had since become cognizant and she, as one who would not dare betray her own father, had been chosen. Since then she had been constantly employed as a messenger between the members of the organization whenever a messenger had been needed.

       For some weeks she had knows that a plot of magnitude had been silently hatching, but in what direction she could only conjecture. Her father had been silent and careworn when at home, which was rarely. She herself had been dispatched hither and yon, to deliver such messages as I had heard, at any time of day or night. She had not dared, to rebel, for her father's sake. From the message which were necessarily confided to her, she had learned that the people with whom her father had become entangled, belonged to a large society which had members and organizations in many countries. From telegrams and cables which she had been required to send (written in cipher, of which she had been able to acquire some knowledge), she had learned that the plot which was forming in this country was duplicated in many European ones, and that the consummation was near she feared from many signs which the designers had not been able to keep from her knowledge. Madame of the White Shoulders was here the leading spirit. Her brother, of the Russian, legation (in the description of whom I recognized both the man who had given the note to the messenger boy and he who had assisted Jackson in his search for me about the yard), was her chief assistant. The third man, she believed, was a Russian who had escaped to this country after implication in a desperate attempt to assassinate the czar, discovered, happily, in time. Jackson was a mere tool, whose skill in the manufacture of delicate explosives rendered him of incalculable value to the others. Of the man who had traced her to the station she had no knowledge, having never seen anyone who answered to his description.

       Of my own connection with the affair she was able to give me some knowledge. Two weeks before, after many desperate attempts, madame's brother had succeeded in abstracting some state papers of great value to his associates in Washington. They had made every effort to get them to New York undiscovered. He, however, had been obliged to deliver them at once to a trusted messenger, since it was unsafe to have them remaining in his own hands. The messenger had been no other than Miss Cutting's father, who had been peremptorily summoned to Washington to answer the needs of his confreres. The papers had been immediately missed, but, thanks to his extreme cunning, the actual thief had been able to escape detection or even suspicion. The latter, however, had fastened itself, through a succession of strange circumstances, upon Cutting himself, and it had immediately become necessary to find a new messenger to bring them to madame in New York, in whose hands they must be placed. In this predicament they had been obliged to fix upon a young man who had lately become entangled with a part of the society in England, and who had just made his escape to America. He was personally unknown to the principals here, but they had no other course than to direct Cutting, by wire, to trust him. With the extremest caution, therefore, the papers were confided to his care and a communication to that effect immediately forwarded to madame and her confederates. The young fellow was directed to proceed with the utmost secrecy, it being feared that the Washington detectives had already found the scent. Cutting was being watched closely, and had much difficulty in performing his part in the proceeding. The messenger was to communicate with Jackson (who had been stationed in the House with Green Blinds, which madame had rented for like needs some weeks before), in the way which recommended itself to him when the opportunity occurred.

       As he was personally unknown, the only way in which he could be recognized was by giving an unobtrusive signal a given number of times. When this was done he was to be admitted to the house. About the time he was expected a young man was seen to take up his abode in the opposite house. He never left it but sat conspicuously at the window, gazing intently at the House with Green Blinds. He had given the signal (which was the rapid passage of the right hand across the eyes) clumsily and openly three times. They had entertained grave suspicions as to his identity, but there was nothing to do but trust him. The time for action was rapidly nearing, and they were desirous of getting possession of the papers, if possible, before this arrived. The signal was finally returned, therefore, and an appointment made by letter. This, of course, was the communication I had received the morning before. All this Miss Cutting had learned from her father, who had returned suddenly toward seven o'clock in the afternoon. He had been much depressed and agitated. The letters had been traced, and the young fellow to whom they had been intrusted was being closely shadowed by the police. There was fear that the detectives were also on the track of madame's brother, and it was necessary to send them a warning. This had been intrusted to herself, with what success has already been told.

       She informed me that, after my escape into the yard (whither, as I had conjectured, they had not at first dared to follow, for fear of attracting the attention of the surrounding houses) a hurried consultation had been held. The men had thought that, were I a detective sent to spy upon them, I would doubtless decide that my next best chance of learning their intentions would be to follow madame's directions and go the next day to P—–, where I would expect further developments. Miss Cutting told me (and I had suspected as much myself) that, from what she could gather, this had been merely a scheme of madame's to get me out of the way for 24 hours, no matter whether I were a spy or untried confederate. Madame herself, however, had disagreed with her companions. She had declared that an effort must be made to stop me, and that every train to P—– must be watched. Miss Cutting herself, whom they had never wholly trusted, and for whom, on account of her interference in my behalf, they had no greater love, they tried to intimidate further with threats. It was necessary, however, that both her father and herself, who might prove formidable witnesses against them, should things go wrong, be gotten out of the way. For this reason she could not be kept a temporary prisoner, as they had at first suggested. Her father had made all arrangements for a flight, in which she was to accompany him, and she was, therefore, taken for the remainder of the night to the hotel at which madame was staying. She was now on her way to join her father and to again depart with him. She was an important witness for my own side also, but she had saved my life. What else could I do but further her own escape? I promised to do whatever in me lay to prevent the danger which threatened our country and to aid her to my utmost ability both in shielding her father and in covering their escape. As she bade me good-by when I left the train at the last station before P—– the tears had finally welled to her eyes. I was glad to think that partially, at any rate, they might be tears of relief.

       I took the next train back to town, eagerly looking at every station for the first edition of the morning papers. When finally they arrived and I opened the one I had selected, I discovered both the headlines I had hoped to find. The first was as satisfactory as the second seemed to me conclusive. It stated that a young man had been captured in Brooklyn, while in the very act of destroying the valuable papers which had been stolen two weeks before from the state department in Washington. A few had been recaptured. They were the letters which had passed between the Russian ambassador and our secretary of state, regarding the return to the Russian government of some suspected persons now in this country. A quantity of dispatches from the said government to their ambassador at Washington, were also among the documents. The young man in whose possession they were found had been brought to New York, and was now awaiting examination. From what I could make of this article he had apparently given no information which implicated any of the people connected with the House with Green Blinds, and I doubted whether any such information was in his possession. It was scarcely probable that more than the barest directions had been entrusted to him.

       The second headline read something as follows: "Wealth, Wit and Beauty to do Honor to Our Executives. Mr. —–'s Famous Ball-Room Literally Lined with Roses. Tuxedo on the qui vive. A Brilliant Affair To-night."

       Upon these grounds, then, I was basing my case.

       While I stood, listening, upon the window ledge the night before, madame had mentioned both Tuxedo and the name of the man at whose house the ball was to be given. It was to be given in honor of a great statesman and his wife. Members of the various foreign legations were to attend. During the day I had seen, in some mysterious connection with madame and her associates, the young man who had been tried and convicted of a crime which had held in England a position very similar to the way things here, as I dissected them, were tending. Madame's voice and his were strangely alike. It had been considered — no matter how I was supposed to be related to the affair — expedient to get me out of the way for 24 hours, and to do so without exciting my suspicion. After that I might return. Miss Cutting and her father had been ordered to escape from the country within the same time, as it was desirable that they, after that time, should not be within reach of the police. Last of all, the man Jackson, a tool in the hands of the others, had been experimenting very recently — as shown by his absent eye-brow — in chemicals of an explosive nature. And the third man at the House with Green Blinds, who had not spoken in my hearing, was wanted (together, for all I knew to the contrary, with the others), in his own country to pay the penalty of an attempt made upon the life of his sovereign.

(To be concluded.)

from The Buffalo Commercial (1896-01-02), p04

PART V.

       It was ten o'clock when once more I entered the office of my chief. I found him awaiting me there. Ray had just come from my rooms with news of importance from the House with Green Blinds. A short time before the people in the street and the houses near, had been startled by the noise of a heavy explosion. It had come, as well as they could make out, from the house he had been watching. The police had been summoned and an effort made to gain admission to the place. No reply had been obtained to the ringing of the bell, and they were now preparing to force an entrance. The chief had waited merely to give me the information, and we at once set out together. There was the inevitable crowd of people before the house, through which we forced our way. The door bad been broken open and a policeman guarded the entrance on either side. As we went in a noisome odor of chemicals filled the air. We made our way to the drawing-room, where I had been the night before. Here upon the table I discovered one of my revolvers, and underneath it a piece of paper, on which was scrawled the word "Beware."

       From here Ray, who had preceded us, led the way upstairs again to a small skylight room in the rear of the house. We discovered there shelves filled with bottles, retorts, pestles and mortars, and books piled anywhere about. On the floor, his head torn and burned beyond recognition, lay Jackson. I knew him by his yellow hands and peculiar dress, and saw that his own deviltry had been his undoing. We went carefully over the room. It contained all descriptions of materials for compounding explosives. Half finished infernal machines, wheels and springs scattered everywhere, and various memoranda which were of value in their way. Near what remained of the man we discovered upon the floor a dark stain, which at first sight I had thought to be blood. A closer examination, however, revealed the fact that it was either claret or some other deep red wine. In one of the yellow hands was gripped a small vial about which a scrap of paper was wrapped. Written in English upon it were the following words: "In two gills of claret, one. In champagne; two. For action in the first case, five minutes. In the second, seven."

       The vial contained three or four small white pellets. We determined to try an experiment. A man was sent for a bottle of Piper-Heldseck. Of this he poured a small quantity into an empty bottle and, dropping in one of the white pellets, placed the whole upon the window ledge. Closing the sash I stood, watch in hand, and waited. Whether simply poison, or some stronger and stranger thing, I did not stop to wonder, but, as the number of minutes recommended in the note crawled slowly by, an uneasy sensation came over me which made me draw back and motion the others to do the same. The next moment the stillness was broken by a dull report and the falling of shattered glass. We started forward. The glass lay broken in small bits; a portion of the stone coping had been torn away; the bottle was nowhere visible.

       I knew a little of chemistry. Whether the man Jackson had made a great discovery, in producing a material upon which the action of certain kinds of liquids was necessary to bring about a concussion, by absorbing with the various degrees of strength contained in the fluid the hard outer coating of his preparation and bringing the delicate interior into contact with some foreign substance; or whether such methods are generally known and practiced by the profession, I cannot tell. I only thought, at the time, that the last link in the chain of proceedings was now without doubt in my hand.

       At nine o'clock that night Ray, another man and myself, were stationed in the hall of Mr. —–'s great house at Tuxedo. We had been substituted for three detectives who were to have been sent down in the usual way. I had placed Ray at the entrance to the ballroom, myself near the vestibule of the house, the other man hovered anywhere about. We had not long to wait. The guests of the evening were early to arrive — the great man short-breathed, ponderous, but genial; his young wife handsome and gracious. Behind them came a small sprinkling of more or less famous politicians, members of the foreign legation and handsome young attaches in the full uniforms of their countries. Among these last were two men who at once attracted my attention; the first, by a slight peculiarity in his figure, his quick nervous movements, the glances full of suspicion and of watchfulness which he constantly threw about — all these signs identified him strongly with the man who kept silence the night before at the House with Green Blinds. The other was as easily discovered; the tall, well set up figure, ornamented by a showy uniform which he now wore, the firm lips curving into a smile that was almost insolent; the large, well-shaped head; the delicate aroma of Turkish cigarettes which floated with him — more, he lighted one as he reached the smoking-room, into which I could see from my station, and sent ring after ring of smoke curling upward. Once before I had seen him do it, but never another man so prettily.

       I sent Ray to watch the two closely, and returned to my post. Again I had not long to wait. I had turned to reply to some trivial question which had been addressed to me, when the voice for which I had been waiting floated clearly towards me — a low, delicious laugh. I looked eagerly about. In the smoking-room, talking gayly to a small group of its occupants, was the hero of the English trial — the escaped convict of Portsmouth prison — the boy who had followed Miss Cutting. But I saw no one anywhere about to resemble Madame of the White Shoulders. From where I stood I watched this man until he turned to go, and then drew nearer. As he passed Ray's tall Russian, I heard his say, lightly: "Tout va bien," and then he lost himself in the crowd. I saw him go in and out among the throng, looking unostentatiously but carefully about him, and managed for a time to keep in his wake. Then I lost him entirely. For an hour I searched hither and thither, cursing my own stupidity, but without avail. I was growing desperate, fearing that, after all, I should be too late, when again that voice came to my straining ears. It was in the supper-room, where the jingling glasses were playing a graceful accompaniment. I stumbled hastily forward. This time I was not disappointed. I could not but recognize her, though I had never seen, her face, uncovered before. Perfect in outline as a statue by St. Gaudens, faultless in coloring, and lighted by those glorious eyes which had flashed upon me through the mask — eyes I had seen matched but once, and then by those of the boy I had just so clumsily lost sight of. Her superb, square-moulded shoulders gleamed richly in the well-arranged lights. For the merest instant her eyes rested upon mine and their pupils widened. I feared that she had penetrated my disguise. Then she turned again to her companion — none other than the illustrious guest in the interest of whose safety I was working. I was very near them. Looking about I saw both the men who had been in the House with the Green Blinds hovering near the doorway. Behind them towered Ray's well-set head. I signaled him to close in. His orders were to arrest them as quietly as they would permit it to be done, and to await, in the carriage which had been provided, my arrival with madame.

       She was standing, with her companion, near one of the tables, and I saw him pour a glass of champagne and hand it to her. He watched her, smilingly, as she daintily put it to her lips, and then turned to find one for himself. As he did so I saw madame's hand go steadily into the bosom of her gown, and, taking out a small silver vinaigrette, hold it carelessly for an instant over her glass.

       The great man turned to her again and lightly touched her glass with his own.

       "May fortune bring you everything which has not already escaped her," he said, gallantly.

       "To a health like that, monsieur," replied her marvelous voice, "in my country it is a custom to change glasses, that each may drink the good fortune of the other."

       "A very pretty custom," he said, with a heavy laugh. "Let us follow it."

       The glasses changed hands. If he should swallow that deadly thing — Good heavens! I threw myself forward, falling heavily against him. Half the wine went trickling down his coat and he turned about with a savage imprecation. I seized the glass and poured what remained through my fingers until they touched the hard little pellets it contained. Knowing that they had not been there long enough to soften, and that there was no danger from them. I put them in my pocket, and, with what sang froid I could muster, turned to madame and offered her my arm.

       "Madame," I stammered, "is forgetful and mistaken. In her country no way of treating a toast is so unlucky.

       The great man looked dazed, but I saw his anger growing. A strange light had come into madame's eye, and I heard her murmur an apology to him.

       "For a few minutes — pardon me — an old friend whom I have not seen — since — last night."

       She allowed her hand to rest lightly upon my arm.

       "For a moment," she said, come in here," and led me towards the conservatory. I thought no better place could be found for the quiet performance of my duty, for I wished to avoid a scene. A maid could be dispatched for her wraps, and for my own as well, and I could conduct her, as secretly as she would allow, to the carriage which was awaiting her.

       She sank upon a cushioned, window seat and motioned me to a chair which stood facing it. A strange desire to humor her took possession of me. For a moment she let her eyes rest quietly upon my own.

       "Your disguise becomes you," she said, critically.

       "And yours," I replied, "becomes you very ill."

       Her lips kept their seriousness of outline and her eyes remained fixed on mine. There was a short interval of silence and then she rose to her feet, standing over me. I started to follow her example, but she motioned me back, and something impelled me to obey. I saw that she had unfastened a splendid tiara of diamonds and sapphires from her hair and was turning it over and over in her hands, where the light from above incessantly toyed with it. The glitter of the thing fascinated me; my eyes followed every movement. I tried to turn away, and could not. A drowsy sensation came over me, the soft tones of her voice droned in my ears, sounding far away and sweet and sweeter still.

       And then came a dull monotonous rattle. A newspaper rustled at my elbow. A man's voice — Ray's — was speaking. My eyes were opened (I could not remember unclosing them) and I was gazing about stupidly. The surroundings were familiar enough. An ordinary passenger coach, journeying swiftly along through the sweet air of a summer morning. A lot of strange people about; Ray in the place beside me, reading his paper.

       "If there was such a plot afoot here," he was saying, "it seems to have slipped up without any aid of ours. It is a pretty bad business though, anyway."

       I asked him what, and he looked at me curiously.

       "What is the matter with you? You've been queer ever since last night," he returned, peevishly, and pointed to a huge headline in his paper. I looked, and read these words:

       "The Assassination of President Sadi-Carnot." For a moment my head reeled and the words danced unmeaningly before my eyes, and then a mist seemed to unfold itself from my brain, and remembrance of the affair I had just been through with came back to me. I unbuttoned my coat, and saw that I was still in evening dress.

       I had no little difficulty in persuading Ray to tell me what had occurred, and in convincing, him that I had no recollection of it. Finally, however, he told me this:

       As he has been directed, he waited for his cue from me before arresting the two men who were in his charge, and he had seen what took place between the illustrious guest, Madame of the White Shoulders and myself. When she accepted my arm, she had turned for an instant to nod and smile at the Russian attache, who was also watching closely. Upon Ray's quiet demand for a surrender, which had immediately followed, this man had followed him to the carriage without a word. The other came as quietly. They had then, waited there some five minutes when I appeared, with madame leaning upon my arm. She had expressed great surprise at finding the two men there and under arrest, and had demanded an explanation from me. I had offered her the most abject apologies, and had ordered Ray to at once release his prisoners. I had assured him that the affair, from beginning to end, was a gigantic mistake, that the track we had followed was entirely a wrong one, that we had offered untold insult to three innocent people. He had no course but to credit my word. I had then proceeded to assist madame with great care into her carriage, and she had driven rapidly away, the men following in another coupe. We hastened afterwards, Ray, the man who had come down with us, and myself, to the station, where I had purchased, with no further explanations to my companions, three tickets to Boston, which place we were now nearing. The third man had made himself comfortable in the smoking car, as there was no sleeper attached to the train, while Ray had sat all night beside me. During this time I had sat with wide-open eyes, staring straight before me, apparently lost in thought, and until now he had not ventured to disturb me.

       And so the beginning of my first case came to its end.

       Letters a fortnight later from my friend, the London detective, told me that attempts upon the lives of men in certain other European cities had been made at the same time, but, with the exception of that in which the French President fell, all had been discovered and met in time.

       I resigned my position at the office, and have since been devoting most of my time to trying, upon my own responsibility, to get trace of Madame of the White Shoulders. In this quest, so far unsuccessful, for the last two weeks I have enjoyed the assistance given with sympathetic zeal, of the girl who saved my life from her, and who no longer bears the name of "Cutting."

       Should I succeed in finding madame, I hope to force her to solve two problems; the first whether she and the young man who wore a false beard and spoke with her voice, were identical — the one with the other. And if so, whether she had exercised the same influence which had so swayed my mind to her will upon the jailer of the Portsmouth prison, and by so doing had effected the escape of herself and her companions, upon a previous occasion.