The Mystery of The Riding Wolves.

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 97, 26 April 1930, Page 7 (Supplement)

The Mystery of The Riding Wolves.

•Although the vast atrium and spacious gardens where the last act of this fantastic adventure was staged still exist, and can be visited by the curious, the incredibly audacious aggressions and fierce, unexpected attacks, carried out by that strange creature Spartaco tha Greek, and the wild orgies and nameless tortures conceived by his mongtrous ally, the Tartar Tchinghizhan, are almost forgotten. Yet at tlie time ill Paris trembled at the mere mention &f the, bandit's name. Even children ran crying to their mothers at the sight of a big dog if their playmates but shouted "Croquemitaine." The word is ancient and means anything unearthly, a glioul, a ghost, or a bogle, but for many years it was used exclusively to designate Spartaco the Eobber. Nevertheless, he left no lasting impression; perhaps because his Wiccess was ephemeral and his apparition so abrupt. Moreover, his end was lamentable, and that I imagine is the reason why the people, who dearly loved a spectacular execution, did u)t 'grant him the notoriety such men as Cartouche and Robert Macaire attained. Furthermore, the argus-eyed political police were greatly feared, (and the authorities had banned all pamphlets and popular ditties dealing with his exploits, and imposed severe penalties on the ■ authors. Savary, Duke de Roviga, then Minister of Police, was morbidly sensitive to ridicule, and his methods for presenting the true story from. leaking out Were brutal and. efficient. Even Vidocq, who captured Spartaco, although he compiled his dossiers as usual, and reconstructed the case in detail, wa3 careful to keep his dangerous knowledge to himself, until with the permanent exile of Napoleon, he might safely add the narrative to his memoirs. But by that time other events of more immediate interest engrossed him. Thus the tale of the meteoric career of these strange beings, the strangest perhaps the world has ever seen, has remained entombed in that section of the secret achives which Peuehet once ironically named "The Oubliette." Who and what Spartaco the Greek really was I have been unable to discover. The record has been destroyed. There is some mention in Peuchet's memoirs that he served as a soldier with Napoleon, was caught red-handed stealing army funds, sentenced to be shot, and escaped, but as the reader will see, this cannot be true. The monstrous Tchinghizhan was indeed a Tartar prince. _ He had hoped, with the Emperor's assistance, to overthrow the Romanoffs and usurp the throne of Russia, and when, after obtaining much useful information from him, the wily Corsican merely laughed tad called him a fool, Tchinghizhan eame to Paris filled with hatred of Trance and the French. Vidocq, in his memoirs, suggests that tha revengeful Tartar* was instrumental in bringing about the terrible catastrophe which culminated in the sacrifice of Moscow and broke Napoleon's power. Whether this statement was based upon iecret information which he had obtain'•d, I cannot say. Vidocq, chief of the Paris secret police, -was for once a prey to illlumour, £ thing rare with him, for his •ventfullife, seething with tragic adventures, bristling with dangers, and beiet with pitfalls evolved by his numerous enemies, had hardened his nerves tad taught him self-control. He was ione of the few men who possessed that rare thing, a complete mastery of his ißind. , The broad table at which he sat was covered' as usual with bulky reports, each one a tentacle writhing unseen from the Surete headquarters to some criminal cowering in an obscure haunt of the underworld. But as yet Vidocq had scarcely glanced at them. Instead he fidgeted with his pen, drummed his fingers on the polished oak and looked incessantly at his watch. He had risen for the twentieth time and wandered aimlessly to the window, when the door was flung wide with resounding slam and clatter, and CocoLacour, his able, cunning little lieutenant, whose prolonged absence had caused ihim such anxiety, came staggering in, followed by several tall, burly members of the famous brigade of detectives. Vidocq had prepared a biting speech to express his annoyance at being kept waiting, but at sight of Lacour, pale, shaken, his face streaked With blood, his clothes in tatters and his outstretched hands still shaking from some terrible amotion, his anger fled and he sprang forward with genuine concern in his eyes. "In heaven's name Coco, what has happened? You are hurt, old friend." Lacour smiled weakly and wiped the blood from his eyes, then suddenly turning with a fierce gesture to the men behind him, he cried: "Show the chief what we've been fighting!" At the words two of the men who had remained half hidden in the background, staggered past the littlfe Parisian and flung the heavy body of an animal on the floor. Vidocq stared with amazement at the massive head and formidable gleaming fangs that armed the ■wide-open jaws. "A wolf—a mountain wolf! What d°es this mean?" Lacour, who was r.ipidly regaining his Usual flippant manner, hoisted himself to the edge of the table. "I'll teil you," he cried shrilly. "Last night, six of us, armed with swords and pistols, went as you ordered to Fontainebleau where rumour had it that tlie bandit, Spartaco, and some of his Lilians were prepared to make one of their usual aggressions. When we arrived at the inn of the 'Green Hunter v, '« found the place crowded with ter'ilijil peasants and foresters. An houi ho fore, the Greek had passed through

Barbizon village on horseback, riding like the wind, and with him had been at least twenty of his band. . "At the fringe of the forest road, a squad of hunters wro had lain in wait for the robbers every night, had erected a barrier of logs across the path, which forced the horsemen to halt, and since iit was bright moonlight and the hunters outnumbered Spartaco's men, they dashed forward with yells of rage to give them battle. But to their horror the figures astride the borses were not men, they were wolves, great hairy wolves riding like human beings. The peasants swear that several of these creatures leapt at them with snapping teeth and that they mangled and killed twO of the woodsmen who had attempted to use their guns. The sight of these were-wolves so frightened the rest that they fled in all directions." "You are mad, Coco —what is this tale of mounted wolves?" "Wait! Let me finish. I, too, laughed and. scoffed at the fantastic story, but when I was led to the room where the two dead men were lying, the appearance of their torn and bleeding bodies gave me a shock. Our arrival had put new heart into the peasants, but they refused to do more than guide us to the spot where the encounter had taken place. There we found the tracks of many horses, and I saw the guns the foresters had dropped in their flight. "The paths were sodden with the rain that fell yesterday, and thanks to this and the full moon just overhead, we were able easily to follow the trail left by the bandits. It led us to the park surrounding the Chateau Malmousse, and while we were still seeking how to

gain admission, a chorus of agonised screams, the howling of beasts and a volley of pistol shots burst from the house. "You recall that the Count de Favrol, whose residence it is, had several times been warned that Spartaco intended to murder him? Well, he kept his word. We at once scrambled over the wall and ran towards the Chateau, where a fight was evidently in progress. A bonfire had been lit on the lawn, and around this a number of horrible misshapen creatures were leaping and dancing. "I immediately gave the order to fire. At the detonations the blazing wood was instantly scattered in all directions, and the Things, whatever they were, vanished among the trees. Reassured by this, we dashed after them, to our cost. Hardly had we entered the shadows when a dozen huge wolves sprang at us. But they did not run on four legs, Francois—they ran upright like men and were armed with knives and pistols. "Toinon and Favart were killed right at the outset. I shot and wounded one' of the brutes, but was hurled to the ground and crushed and nearly suffocated by another, that dropped, biting and clawing, across me. You can see the marks of its teeth where it ripped my scalp open. I thought my last minute had come, but fortunately our men rallied and charged just in time, firing as they dashed forward. I heard a whistle blow somewhere and, struggling to my feet, found that our opponents had fled. Only this creat re which bad knocked me down, v. as sprawling across the glowing embers of the scattered fire. I brought it to show you my story is true. "Well, we searched the house and found the Count on a bed, a dagger in his heart. The Countess had become insane with terror —we had to lock her in a room, and I posted two servants outside the door to guard her. All the jewels and money the Count possessed have been stolen. "What do vou make of it, Francois? Who would have thought it possible for men to change themselves into animals

at will. I give you my word, old friend, that this dead wolf ran erect. Favart — poor fellow, Lis body is downstairs — was stabbed. And our men 'here saw them all ride away on horseback, just as the peasants at the inn had said." For a long time Vidocq paced the room in silence. It had fallen to his lot to capture ma/ny ruthless criminals, but this Spartaco, it seemed to him, was the most fearsome of them all. "If anyone but you, mon vieux, bad come to me with such a tale," he exclaimed at last, "I should liave ordered him to be shut in a cell as a madman. Come, let us forget what others told you. We will discuss only what you actually saw. Was Spartaco the Greek there ?" "Yes, I recognised ihis equat shape and bristling moustache, although. I only caught a glimpse of him in the flickering firelight. When I looked again he bad changed into a wolf." Vidocq shrugged ±iis shoulders impatiently. "Nonsense —sheer nonsense! You are overwrought; you were deceived by the uncertain light. Such things do not exist. Were-wolves indeed! A childish belief!" "I swear, Francois, I was not deceived —the bandit changed into a wolf. Besides, there is proof on the floor before you, you cannot explain that dead body away." "You'll find I shall, before many days are past. Go now and see to your wounds. We'll talk again later. Have this carrion removed and send me all the reports we have received about the bandit. Let no one disturb me. I wish to think."

But Vidocq was not left long to his meditations. A mounted messenger arrived soon after with a peremptory summons from the Prefect, M. Henry. Making a bundle of the numerous reports, Vidocq immediately entered a carriage and drove in all haste to his chief's office. "What is this terrible story I have just heard?" M. Henry demanded at once, hardly giving his energetic auxiliary time to divest himself of greatcoat and hat. "For months now Spartaco and his Russian lieutenant, Vassilieff, have robbed and murdered with impunity. You succeeded in arresting some of his men and I had betmn" to hope the fellow's power was broken—and now suddenly —this! Wolves that shoot and stab, rend and tear, and steal jewels. Were-wolves the officer of foresters who has just left, culled them. . "Merciful heavens, had ever man sucn a task as I? Napoleon away, Savary irascible and contemptuous, _ and the people clamouring for protection. They hold public meetings everyday at the Palais Royal, and plaster the walls with placards deriding the police. Don t sit there and grin, man! What have you done?" ~ "I have brought all the dossiers, monsieur" Vidocq replied, resuming his wonted gravity. "With your permission we will go over them. I confess this thine has°startled me also. Two of iny men were killed last night at Fontainebleau, Coco-Lacour was wounded. He brought back the carcase of a hugs wolf." At the words, so quietly spoken, M. Henry leapt to his feet, his face livid. True to his superstitious nature he at once considered this incident proof that the bandit was in league with the powers of darkness. "A wolf! Then it is true? What a terrible thing!" Vidocq smiled again and shook his head. "I do not believe in goblins and sorcery. 'The animal is material enough, but it never walked on two legs."

M. Henry sat down and wiped his hands, which had grown moist. • "Go on—l rely on you entirely, what plans have you made?" "Those men we arrested are at La Force; I'll see if anything can be learnt from them. My spies shall redouble in vigilance. Had I foreseen t'he denouement at Fontainebleau I ehould have gone in person, but until now Spartaco was a very ordinary, although a daring bandit. This addition of wolves to his band is a new idea, and a good one, for I quite realise that no ignorant peasant will ever dare oppose them. The fact that it is a recent development gives me a starting point. He has enrolled a new recruit who i 3 probably the owner of the beasts." Pulling his chair to the table, Vidocq opened the dossiers and studied them. "You see, monsieur, this Spartaco appeared suddenly about a year ago. It seems he 'had been a guide attached to one of the Emperor's Voltigeur regiments He was caught red-handed robbing his comrades and only escaped death by a miracle. Since then he has risen from petty theft to the leadership of all the riff-raff kicked out of the army.' His appearance is well known; short, thick-set, with regular, handsome features' arid a heavy black moustache. Yet although his personality is so striking — time and. again lie lias escaped arrest in the most mysterious manner. Someone, I feel sure, who has great influence, is his ally and warns him in time. When I have discovered his lair I shall need soldiers " M. Henry threw out his hands. "You shall have all the assitance you need, only, for heaven's sake, clear up this fantastic mystery—the people are frantic!" Vidocq nodded and, gathering bis papers, withdrew. Several days passed uneventfully. Every criminal haunt known to his clever brigade _ of detectives, themselves former convicts whose pardon Vidocq had obtained, was watched night and day; while their chief, cunningly disguised, allowed him&elf to be arreted and taken to La Force prison. This time, however, the method he had so often adopted with success appeared doomed to failure. The convicts whose confidence he tried to gain refused stubbornly to talk, and he had already decided to try what a spectacular escape would do when the governor sent for him in haste. With incredible audacity the Greek and his band had actually attacked the palace of the Duke de Rovigo, the Minister of Police, during his absence. Two servants had been killed and much cold and jewellery taken. Moreover, Spartaco had left a note, pinned to a portrait of Napoleon, in which he informed, the Duke that he had abstracted, his sword of ceremony, because he hoped soon to drive it to the heart of many of the Emperor's toadies. As a consequence, Vidocq had a stormy interview with his supreme chief, who, as usual, treated his subordinate with the utmost hauteur and contempt. Hardly had the detective returned to his office, livid with anger at the Duke's unjust reproaches, when Lacour brought him a letter from Savary's intimate friend and admirer, the Countess Morel de Castellane. It was she who had presented him with the jewelled sword the bandit had stolen, and she now implored the Surete chief to regain possession of it, offering him a large sum as reward. "What do we know about the Countess?" Vidocq asked of Lacour when he had scanned the letter. "She is not French, is she?" The little Parisian pulled a dossier from a pigeon-hole and settled himself in a chair. . . . "Here we are, Francois. Catherine, Countess Morel de Castellane—wife of the late Count de Castellane. Came to Paris with her elderly husband a year since, when he relinquished his post as diplomatic adviser to our ambassadoi at The Hague. So far as we know he married her abroad. The woman's extraordinary intelligence soon caused her to become a welcome and constant visitor at the Duke de Ro vigo's palace, blie is now in disgrace with Napoleon because, since the Count died some months ago, she has shown that crazy dwarf, Prince Tchinghizhan, many favours. "Tchinghizhan is the soil of a gieat Tartar chief who was murdered by emissaries of the Czar. He tried vainly to persuade the Emperor to invade Russia, offering him the co-operation of a vast Tartar army. Napoleon listened to his plans, laughed at him and kicked him out. Tchinghizhan has since then become a fanatic enemy of Bonaparte, but is tolerated because everyone believes him to be mad. Queer, hem? Francois- " , , , , "What do you mean! Vidocq a^ked. "Well—the Countess is the friend of Napoleon's favourite, the Duke de Ro vitro, yet she allows this savage dwarf, who°hates France, to pay his court to her. Will you investigate? One never kl \n W answer Vidocq rose and stuffed his badge into a pocket. "Yes, I'll go and visit the woman now, although I can see no connecting link as yet with the case upon which_ we are busy." His first impression, when an obsequious lackey had conducted him to a spacious salon where the Countess sat listlessly fanning herself, was that she was indeed handsome, albeit somewhat stout. The features were regular and pleasing, the jet-black eyes full of intelligence, and the powdered wig, although no longer the fashion, enhanced the vivid, healthy complexion. She spoke French with a soft foreign accent difficult to define, that yet added to the charm of her personality. Squatting on a couch near the window, was Prince Tchinghizhan. Vidocq could not repress a shiver of disgust as he gazed at the puny, twisted

body, surmounted by a huge, disproportionate head. The creature was a monstrosity, and an evil, sombre atmosphere that was almost tangible, emanated from him. The small, oblique eyes, deeply set under bushy, overhanging brows, and the wrinkled scalp, high cheek bones and thin, flexible lips, combined to give the fellow an expression of repressed ferocity that not even his gorgeous silken clothes could minimise. "I have come, madame," Vidocq began, "in answer to your letter. I forgot to ask his Excellency about the sword to which you attach such value. Will you be so good as to describe it in detail? Perhaps you can suggest also why it should have especially attracted the thieves." At the quetion a cackle of laughter burst from the dwarf: "Ho, ho! From what I have heard the bandit chief hates the upstart Corsican and his fawning tribe of courtiers as much as I do. The Countess and I do not agree on that point. My sincere wish is that you may not recover the sword nor capture the thieves." "Be quiet, Ivan —" came from the woman, in such imperious tones, that Tchinghizhan shrank into a corner, where he continued to mutter to himself in his own tongue. "Here, monsieur, is a drawing pf the weapon, from which you will easily recogniee it," the Countess added suavely. "Those large stones in the hilt are rubies. Have you any idea where these audacious robbers have their headquarters 1" "None whatever, madame. I very much fear they are not normal men of flesh and blood. They command the powers of darkness. I cannot hope to fight the supernatural." Again a cackle- of laughter came from the dwarf, and for a moment Vidocq could have sworn that a fleeting, derisive smile had also hovered on the lips of the Countess, but her words of sympathy and encouragement, as he rose to go, banished the thought as soon as it was born. Wishing him success, she clapped her hands sharply and ordered the servant who instantly appeared to conduct the detective to the gates. That night Vidocq paced his room deep in thought. He was exasperated by the persistence of a vague, shapeless idea hovering constantly in the dim recesses

of his mind, elusive as a phantom; for lie sensed that it was the solution to the puzzle, could he but grasp it. Days passed during which he was irritable as never before; in vain did he seek traces of the bandit, the fellow had vanished. And then abruptly a monstrous crime brought Spartaco's name into prominence once more. > A farmer, who was in the habit of bringing his produce to the markets of Paris regularly every morning, came rushing to the Surete in great agitation and demanded to see the chief. He lated that at daybreak, when passing an isolated mansion on the outskirts of Argenteuil, he had been startled to hear shrieks of terror and the fearsome howling of wild beasts coming from the place, and in the dim light he had glimpsed what appeared to be great hairy animals dancing under the trees. Greatly frightened, for the story of the were-wolves had spread even to his. village, he whipped up his horses, not pulling rein until he reached the town gates. Leaving his produce in charge of an Excise officer, he had immediately come to the Rue de Jerusalem to inform the police. The house, he said, had for years excited the curiosity of the Argenteuil peasants, because, although it appeared to be deserted, rumour had it that an immensely rich old miser, who never stirred out for fear his gold would be stolen, resided there all alone. Vidocq wag resting after a search for Spartaco in the numerous riverside haunts, but when he heard of the farmer's adventure, he at once gathered all the men still on duty and, leaving orders for Lacour to follow, galloped to the mysterious house, taking the farmer along as guide. (To be continued next Wednesday.)