MONSIEUR DONAQUE.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXIX, Issue 10957, 23 December 1911, Page 1 (Supplement)

MONSIEUR DONAQUE.

(By Arthur Train.)

Monsieur Rene Donaque was a slender little man with small hands and feet and a patent-leather face that never cracked. Few of the inhabitants of Paris ever saw him —but then, to hi sure, he was rarely there. Nobody knew him. Officially he was designated as A 124, and as such figured in the confidential feports of the French Secret Service. He may have had. wife ana children and a comfortable bourgeo : s little fover somewhere in the suburbs—say at St. Cloud —but if he did, be kept it "to himself. For silence to Donaque was indeed golden, and silence was what made him the most valuable and at the same time_ the most expensive man in the service. Whenev.er any particularly nn'isu.u situation arose "which required governmental observation or action, the Inspector would summon one of his_ sons-lieu-tenants and inquire, "Where is A 124"-' ' And the subordinate would reply. "Do von not recall. Monsieur le Directeur, he is at Vladivostock?" or Nairobi or Quebec, as the case might be. _ And 31. It? Directeur would twirl his official moustache and remark "Mais oui. whom the devil then shall I send?" _ To which the subordinate would inevitably replv that he had no idea, and the whole matter would end either in sending noImklv at all or in flashing a code message summoning M. Donaque to return. Flippancy aside, Donaque was one of those extraordinary men who exert a pronounced influence upon the life of their time without ever acquiring a personality. The nearest Donaque ever came to being described in the public press was when he was referred to occasionally in some prominent case :.s "an agent of the Secret Service." Even the officials themselves knew him only as A 124, and the secret >ecords of "the Bureau alone held the ros ter of his achievements. No living man o'her than Donaque himself could have told what mysteries he had solved, what murders he had run to earth, what as snssinations he had prevented, save that most of the successes of the department were his own. The natural result of this was that, when once Donaque had taken up a case, the entire resources :.f the j government were at his command ai u \ remained so until he was through with them.

Fiis ability, as in most similar instances, lay chiefly in his powers of observation. ' His father had been i clowa in tfie Hippodrome and his mother a lady's maid, and they had compro n,*ej between a career for liim on the sawdust and one below stairs by apprenticing him at the ape of eight to a celebrated professor of legerdemain, who, in the fashion of Herman the Elder, trained Rone's memory by conducting him through the Hue dc Rivoli and insisting upon his recollecting all that he saw in the shop windows. As time went on he did. in fact, remember everything. At twelve he was a proficient assistant of his master. At fifteen be began to give exhibitions of his own. And at seventeen he disappeared. The cause of his disappearance was simply that, by virtue of his mciit'bv an astute Chief of Bnrean. be passed "out of private and into public life —or. ti> speak more accurately, he surrendered the publicity which hehnd heretofore enjoyed as a private individual for the exceedingly private career offered him by a public position. At anv rate he ceased to exist. All that. remained was an '•intelligent force" —at the most, a shadowy form flickering in tlie middle distance like the ghostly hand at one of Palladino's seances. As a physical entity lie had steel-grey eyes, muscles like whalebone, a good-natured, rather fiatiish nose, and- weighed about one hundred and fifteen pounds. Incidentally he had red hair. A smart pLino-tuner or an artistocratic winder of clicks might have called him brother. In point of truth, he was one of the great men of France. Donahue lived in a house without ;i number, in a street without a name, for Lis apartments were on the top store.* of an interior building which he reachei through a secret entrance at the back i.f an" apothecary's in the Rue Montesquieu. The apothecary was, in fact, one of his agents and acted as an official concierge. The lower floors of the interior building were given over to various industries directed by Donaqu* himself. In one of them was an expert photographer who devoted himself to experimenting with telescopic apparatus, huge enlargements of microscopic impressions and the radioactive elfect of various elements through opaqne solids upon the photographic plate. Just now lie was devoting his attention chiefly to polonium, under the personal observation of Donaqne, who (under the name of IJlatt) was a student of the Curies. and who corresponded with them via ISerlin under the pseudonym of Professor Adolph Lydenburg. For when Donaque was not working, iie was studving. No one, least of all his associates, suspected that the redheaded voung man in student s garb, who spoke French with such a Low Ger-u'a-i accent and who carried his boons in a waterproof satchel and his lunch in a paper-hag. was the most dreaded detective in France. Yet it was so. ('hemistrv. pathology, bacteriology, and the hi-dier mathematics were his tools, and he kept them sharp and free from rust. It was Donaqne who had detect-t-i the bacillus of cerbro-spinal meningitis in the remains of the breakfast of which the novelist Poulettiaire had partaken before his death in the apartment, of Mile. Hutchins, the American musichall singer. It was Donacjue who had hypnotised her into confessing the cou-'•e-tion of youthful Professor Otho Hari ngtou with the crime. He had his own hbora'ories in the Rue Montesquieu, and through his special services to the Government of Austria he had been able to secure a full grain of radium from tiie .loaehimsthal Mine. In the twenty years during which he luid been in the Government employ, Donaque had become rich —not in purH U it of hi<= profession, which yielded him Lut a pal'-rv fortv thousand francs per annum.bn.tbY means of the by-products «f secret and" novel information which his activities had disclosed to him. Thus he had made a modest fortune by accidentally discovering that he could artiticiallvVge wine by suspending m the cask a" glass tub containing a sma'l •i"ioitiit of radium chkride. And this industry he secretly carried on in a lar-'e establishment just inside the walls ~f I'iris under the name of 'Clements el Cie '' Most of tlw money he expended in individual scientific research. ' -In tho old days," he had said to Dupre. his assistant, on one of those rare occasions when he said anytmng, •mon killed each other with battle-axes <i- bv til— ~ thrown from the roots-ot i,;,,,^—v.m recall the death of Pyri hus. I observe. Tor-day the only dangerous eliminate are those who. avail themselves of the weapons afforded by the recent discoveries of science. What. France what anv nation has most -o fear, is the pestilence that walketh in da-kness and the destruction that v.asteth i:i noonday, either of natural „ri'in or artificially stimulated. The •ntiTi-idual, save for the knife ol the V>ache has more tc fear from electricity than from any form of open violence". The onlv crimes that are not puerile are those which utilise the unknown for their accomplishment. The rooms given over to Donaque's private use indicated nothing as to his personal tastes or character. His bedroom contained only an iron cot, his dressing-room but a mammoth chest rt drawers marked with various letters, and his library naught but a long table set between two windows which overlooked the citv. and on which stood four telephones: the first connected directly vc'th the Ministry of War. the second ti-jtli the Prefecture of Police, the third • -ith the various floors and olfices cf his own establishment, and the last, with the general telephonic system of Paris. \t the farther end of the room stood a wireless apparatus connected with a pole upon the roof. A map of the world showing all railroad and steamship lines, a shelf of automatic firearms, and! » case containing row upon row of tiny vials completed the furnishings of the apartment. A bright red rug covered the floor. In this most extraordinary establishment the casings of the doors and windows were of steel, rows of electric buttons lined, the panels, and a silence reigned comparable only to that of ;i country cemetery- Not a single note of luxurv was to be seen; no photograpu of friend, no trophy of the chase, 10 souvenir of travel adorned the walls. It was the office of a man always on duty. On the evening of which wo write. Donaque, at about ten o'clock, entered the apothecary's and passed without stopping through a small door m the ex-

tr'eme rear into :i tiny electric elevator. Tin's .started of its own accord and automatically came to a gentle stop when it had reached the level of his apartments, the door of which was opened by some process inexplicable to the ordinary observer, and was in his home., fortress, office—what you will. A cor-nice-light filled the room with a gentle glow, while a green-shaded lamp on the table served for reading purposes. Dupre came from an adjoining room and relieved his master of his hat and Inverness coat.

"The Prefect of Police desires you to speak to him at once," said the assistant. "These papers came five minutes ago by the pneumatic tube from the Bureau."

He laid a heavily-scaled blue packet upon the -table beneath the lamp. Donaque lit a cigarette and tore'it open unceremoniously!

"By courtesy of the Ministry of the Interior you have been assigned to investigate the recent death of M. Faubert at the chateau of the so-called Baroness'Berlitz at Neuilly-le-Real," it began. He ran his eyes hurriedly, but carefully, over the remainder or the note, "it was signed by the Chief i»f the Bureau of Secret Service.

"Dupre," he said, without further inspection of papers. "Yes, Monsieur," returned the assistant instantly on his toes.

"Bring me the clippings from my files relating to the death of M. Faubert—also the papers concerning the history of one Louise Berlitz, otherwise knowi as Fraulein Schmidt, of Vienna and Berlin. I leave for Neuilly-le-Iteal on the first morning train. Valise No. 5 will do—no. No. 2. (Jive me pocket case No. 2 containing the ethodes. Yes, you will accompany me. Kindly notify the Prefect of Police and apologise for my failing to speak to him myself." Without further ado Donaque thre;v off his clothes, glanced at his weight upon a self-registering pair of scales made in Indianapolis, U.S.A.. and, taking up a. book, threw himself upon his cot and read himself to sleep. The early morning train from the Gare due Nord carried with it in a second-class compartment a red-haired man of between thirty-five and forty years of age, who was engaged in devouring a huge package of clippings. Beside him sat a gentleman of far more distinguished appearance, who was none other than Dupre, his assistant. As neither was -known, neither was in the slightest degree disguised. Donaque might easily have passed for an Irish, English or German newspaper correspondent, while his associate resembled, as much as anybody, 31. Eenaud. of the Chicago Opera Company. On the shelf above them rested a Valise (No. 7), bearing the name J. Katz. Leipsic. Donaque, riding backward, perused his clippings for upwards of eighty kilometres before raising his eyes. Dupre slept peacefully. Across the aisle a little German professor in horn spectacles gazed out of the window and' fidgeted. He had been up since three o'clock so as to be sure not to miss the train. He caught Donaque's eye and brightened. "You are from Lei"x>sic, 1 see," began the professor.

The professor felt encouraged. Dupre opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. After a pause the professor made another start. "Permit me to introduce myself," he remarked, fumbling in a large green wallet. "Herr Professor Kard Schwintz of Heidelberg." He produced a stained carte de visite. which he tendered to Donaque, who took it without comment.

"I am honored, Herr Professor." replied the detective in flawless German.

•"I carry my own name on my pack. ' He lifted his eyes. "A very flat country!" continued the professor after a pause. Donaque vouchsafed no reply. '■There is much that is creditable ::> its scholarship, however." the professor added authoritatively.

"■\es:-*'_ returned Donaque quietly. '■The discoveries of Mine. Curie, for instance, will ever be a glory to France. It is not likely that the Fatherland will —but who can say? Yet the discovery of radium has revolutionised the fundamental conceptions of science." Donaque looked interested, and the professor, glorying in a listener, proceeded to deliver one of his lectures. Radium, he was rejoiced to inform Herr Katz, was one of the epoch-mak-ing discoveries of the world. Its energv was inexhaustible. A single ounce of it—could it be obtained—would «drive a battleship at forty miles an hour —forever. In it had been discovered the secret of perpetual motion. Its rays were so powerful that an appreciable quantity could not be held in the hand without inflicting painful burns. You could cure cancer with it!

"Marvellous!" said Donaqne. Yes, _ it was even so! returned tho enthusiast. There was only about an ounce and a half of the element actually reduced to possession in the entire world. Most of it was owned in Austria, where the government had ruthlessly pre-empted the pitchblende deposits. They would not even sell it to the scientists. What a pity! The professor had been trying to buy some in Paris. He had saved twenty-five hundred marks and wished to purchase for experimental purposes a tiny pinch of it, but no, Mine. Curie would not sell a particle of the strength he desired for less than five thousand francs! So he was returning disappointed. The tears almost came into the old gentleman's watery eyes. Did Herr Katz have any conception of the extraordinary speed at which the rays travelled—ten thousand miles a second? '"You are thinking of the cathode ray." quietly interrupted Donaque. '"The velocity of the Beta particle of radium is one hundred and seventy thousand miles per second. However, your enthusiasm deserves some encouragement. When you return to Hei- | dclberg drop a line to this gentleman" —he scribbled a name on the back of the professor's card—"and perhaps he can do something for you. lam getting cut here. Good day!"

The matter that Donaque had been delegated to investigate was one which had aroused the curiosity of all France. Fraulein Schmidt had appeared in Paris a few years before and dazzled society no less by her brilliant wit than by her beauty. Rumors of a somewhat highly colored past had before long, however, led the more decorous to close their doors to her; but she had continued to have a saloon of her own, which was thronged by the cleverest and most distinguished men of the day. Presently she had married _ Valentin, a very rich banker. The union seemed happy, but suddenly her husband bad fallen a victim to a- mysterious disease and had died.

After a period suitable for mourning, Madame Valentin returned to the world and again gathered around her a brilliant circle. Her entertainments were the talk of society, her dinners astonished even the gourmets of Paris, and her Inrishness of expenditure created a furore of excitement. She became the most celebrated woman of the period—a de Stael and a Recamier in one. Wines were named after her. Racing stables wore her colors. Even the President of the Republic was whispered to be among her admirers. And then quite unexpectedly she married again—this time a Baron Berlitz. a Jewish gentleman who had made a fortune in American copper stocks, annexed a title, and started on his way to renown, via Maxim's and Longchamps. He had purchased for his bride a wonderful old chateau, refurnished it entire, executed a will in her favor, and had then.-like his unfortunate predecessor in the lady's affections, most considerately died—of paralysis, it was said. The coincidence did not pass without considerable comment. On the return to Paris of the Baroness Berlitz, the attitude of society toward her changed. She was as ..-brilliantly charming as ever, her banquets were as exquisite, her face and figure in half mourning even more alluring, her menage as distinguished, but something was altered. An unseen filament of cloud shadowed her sun. There were those who said that it presaged her social ecliose. . These, however, were wrong. Though she shone with a difference, she shone in much the same orbit. Men'no longer spoke of her as a possible parti, but perhaps as a mistress. And as if she desired to compensate herself for the undeniable loss of her previous popularity, she plunged into a riot of extravagance -that made Paris gasp, used as it was to American multi-mil-lionaires. It seemed incredible that even the' fortune, of a Berlitz could stand the drain—and just about this time the Minister of Finance entered the running. M. Faubert was an immensely popular man. Risen from the people, he

iiid won his sn:irs as an orator for the xiiMiit' Leit/and had then v/ith givat (iie-inht omani.-ed a party of his own i-liicii could not he said to ho Loft.. iiiiht. or in thu Middle. It was exactly dial was needed at the moment, and rt. Faubert became, in due course, alhough bv training a wine merchant, he head* of the national resources. had been a jovial, brusque, loud'oiced man of hearty middle age, who irooked no interference with Ms polices, and prided himself upon his inlifference to convention. In a month ifter her recrudescence, his attentions o the widow* Berlitz had become the subject of widespread gossip. They rere inseparable—driving, attending he opera, dining at the restaurants, ilways together. It w.as not exactly a ;candal; it was simply_a matter of pubic interest. They had been seen at he races on Monday last, dined at the lotel Continental on Tuesday—and on Friday morning Paris awoke to. learn, hat M. Faubert had died quietly, if inexpectedly at the chateau, of Madame ;he Baroness Berlitz at Neuilly-le-Real >n the preceding evening, of paralysis. On Friday morning Donaqne had been •ailed back from London. It was now Saturday noon. Among the papers contained in the blue •nvelope which Dupre handed to lim the evening before was a document intitled "Preliminary Report of Secret [nquest upon the death of M. Fau)ert." It was typewritten upon thin ihcets just as it had been taken hot ironi the wire an hour or two before. This formed the basis of the informa;ion upon which Donaquc was ordered io act. But its details were meagre !nou<zh. A bare half-dozen witnesses summoned by the Mayor of Neuilly-le-Rcal had testified in substance that M. Faubert, who had been visiting at the Chateau Berlitz (a fact unknown either to his official confreres or his family) had been found dead in his hed on Thursday morning by the valet who had gone to wake him. He was fully dressed, as if he had lain down for a moment before preparing to retire, and there was nothing to indicate whereof he had died. Ho had dined with the Baroness the evening before and had seemed in excellent health and spirits. The valet's name was Bcrtrand, and he had been the chief witness. The others consisted of Pierre Fragonard, the butler; Jules Tonnetti, a constable wlio had taken charge of the body prior to the inquest; Marie Reddon, a femme de ehambre; and Edmond Pepin, the local doctor, who deposed that there were no marks of violence upon the body and that death had occurred from natural causes, to wit, instantaneously, from paralysis. Arriving at Neuilly-le-Real, Donaquo went at onco to the rooms at the inn which Dux>re had engaged for him by wire the preceding evening. Having freshened his appearance, he ordered a light lunch, sent for the head of tho local constabulary, and from him learned what he already knew relative to the inquest. The only additional fact which lie acquired was that the body of M. Faubert had been sent to Paris for burial.

Donaquc transferred a few small articles from the valise to his pockets, instructed his valet to be at the inri door with a trap at half-past six, and, after ascertaining the whereabouts of the chateau, lit a cigarette and started for a walk.' Three miles below the village he came upon the wall that bounded the estate and ran parallel £o the road. A little farther on, he saw towers rising through the oaks on a slight elevation above the river. Soon he came to ail iron gateway and a porter's lodge. He kept on'up the hill that corresponded with the plateau upon which stood the chateau.

Presently he camo to an open field from which a flock of crows, cawing disgustedly, arose at his approach. This he crossed, and gained the crest of the hill, where a huge oak topped the others. He swung himself up through the branches until he could look over tho intervening trees. Below him, not more than a quarter of a mile away, lav the chateau, in the centre of a level lawn that reached at least a hundred yards in each direction. A speck of white fluttered under one of the trees From his pocket Donaquo drew a minute pair of field-glasses, which he focused carefully. Through them he could see plainly a woman, dressed in flimsy summer garments, who wandered in and out among the tree-trunks. Presently a man appeared on the lawn and beckoned to her. Both then enter ed the house.

Donaque telescoped bis glasses aud descended from his perch. He had seen enough for the time being. The prefect bad said that there were no guests at the chateau at the time of the Minister's demise, yet obviously there was one there now" He strolled leisurely back to the village. Oho feature of the case still called for some attention. Two witnesses had notbeen summoned to testify at the inquest —Madame the Baroness Berlitz herself, and the undertaker. The.first he would interview in due course, during bis investigation proper. The other he would see now. Perhaps he would add nothing: perhaps—you never can tell! It took only a moment's inquiry to ascertain that the undertaker and the sexton of the village church were one and the same functionary—an aged gentleman with silvery hair and a voluble if [not silver tongue. Donaque found him I sitting upon a bench, smoking his afternoon pipe. '•Have I the honor to be addressing his Excellency the Mayor?" inquired Donaque, approaching him by a flank movement. The old sexton bridled with pleasure. Xo. be protested he was not the mayor (thanking the gentleman all the same) —be bad no such luck! He was simply a bumble servant of the church and its children —a sexton. Donaque accepted the proffered seat at the old man's side and gently .drew him on. Presently, quite by chance, they were discussing the sudden death of JL Faubert. The sexton with pride told how he had visited the chateau and had personally prepared the body for deportation to Paris. He had had a guard, too —a gendarme, all the timeIt was no small affair, that! "What was the name of the gendarme?'.' inquired Donaque. "Tonnetti," answered the sexton. '•There be is now, the lazy lout, on that corner, over there. You see the way it was, was this: I had just had my coffee when Mathilde, my wife, cries out that some one is coming. So I rush to the door and who is there but M. Bertrand, the valet. 'M. Faubert is dead,' says he, 'and you must come to lav him out.' 'Alack!' I answered, 'and'what did he die of?'—for, to tell you the truth, I had no idea that the gentleman in question was the great Minister of Finance. 'Some sudden shock,' he replied. 'lt is inexpressibly sad.' So I put on my hat and jumped into the trap with him. On the way we stopped at the mayor's house and told him, and lie sent Jules to wait there, until some of the proper officials might arrive—such as the coroner and his i physician.

"Well,, yon may be sure that by that time I was highly excited; hut I kept my wits together and presently we were driving up the great avenue to the chateau. But you should see those oaks, my friend! * TBey are wonderful! A servant in livery opened the door and conducted us up the marble stairs to a magnificent chambre de luxe, where lay M. Faubert, the distinguished statesman. He reclined upon the bed, •his head slightly to the left. M. Bertrand raised the shutters, which had been closed out of respect. for deceased, and asked to be excused. Jules, there, sat like a great ox on the couch and constantly repeated the words 'Magnifique! Extraordinaire!' as if _ he might never be in such a place again. So I busied myself at my work, and do not laugh, M'sieu —but observe how close, after all, are the great and lowly —'on the turf and under the turf all [men are equal., .Well, as I was saying, M. Faubert was fully dressed in elegant clothes —clothes for evening such as are worn in the great cities —with a fine white waistcoat; but there was one little thing he had not —what do you suppose, el:? Will you believe me. M'sieu. when I tell you'(but it is a fact) that the great M. Faubert had no button on the back of his lollar! I glanced about on the floor and upon the cabinets, but there was none. So in a moment of inspiration I removed my own —a modest one of bono such as you may buy for a sou —and put it on him! And now the great statesman is to be buried

in the old .sexton's bone collar-button! ■\Yhich all goes to iirove. docs it not, that all men are created equal r'

The long shadows of the oaks reached across the lawn, and the weather-vanes upon the towers swam in the last glimmering shafts of the setting sun when Donaque drove up the gravelled drive to the massive carved door of the chateau.

"Madame denies herself to everybody," declared the liveried lackey who responded to Donaque's summons in a manner ill concealing a congenial -insolence. It did not escape Donaque: who had instantly > taken the fellow's measure. He scribbled something upon a card and half threw it at the lackey. ' "Take this to your mistress and be quick about it!" said he. A few minutes later the servant reappeared. . _ "Madame la Baronne will see Monsieur," he announced, opening wide the door and hurrying to remove Donaque's valise from the trap. The latter followed the man up a flight of winding marble steps, above which floated the tattered banners of ancient France. Through inullioned windows the parti-colored lights of sun-set-illuminated their stained but vividly glowing reds and purples. At the head of the staircase they came to the door of a huge saloon .with polished- floor and exquisite furniture of the period of the last Louis. The candles were already lighted in the sconces, and in the conflicting light Donaque could see a woman with masses of yellow hair reclining in a, chaise longue upon a rug made of the skin of a polar bear. Douaque entered unannounced. The woman raised a pair of dark gray eyes and shot a penetrating look across the room—the look of a woman harassed by nervousness or fear, yet mistress of herself and of the situation.

"Enter, Monsieur. To what, may I ask, am I indebted for the honor of this visit?" she asked coldly. Donaque approached to within a dozen paces and bowed courteously. "The Republic, Madame, is deeply afflicted at tho loss of so useful a public servant as M. Faubert."

The Baroness made a gesture- of impatience. "And am I to suffer intrusion and annoyance, in consequence, for the next six months?" she demanded.

Donaque shrugged his shoulders. It might have been out of sympathy—the gesture might have carried other implications.

"The Republic, Madame, is deeply interested in the manner of Ins death."

The woman started in spite of herself. "Does the Minister of War suspect that violence was committed? How ridiculous! The inquest has disposed of all such foolish suspicions. There is no one here; "

She stopped abruptly, and her eyes searched his face.

'"Yes, Madame, you have seen me before. Perhaps Madame can recollect."

For a moment the Baroness hesitated. "You are mistaken," she answered deliberately. "I have not the honor of Monsieur's acquaintance." "A thousand pardons, Madame!" replied Donaque, as if pained at the necessary contradiction. "At the Hotel d'Espagne, in the-year 1898, I had the pleasure of attending for a day Fraulein Lena Schmidt, or Henchcl, as I believe you then were." Her face paled almost imperceptibly under the candle-light. "May I ask your business?" she'inquired carelessly. "An agent of the Secret Service of France," he answered. "I am known hx various names.. Herf V0ge1,,.1 believe I called myself Vienna when we last met. That will do as well as any." "Vogel?i' she repeated, as if endeavoring to evoke some shape out of the gray mists of the past. "Vogel?" "Yos, Madame." "\Vhat do you want with me?" she cried.

"I must know how M. Faubert met his death."

Her lids drooped over her gray eyes, "Yes? And how will you proceed?"

""By the ordinary methods of investigation." Hor jewelled fingers played lightly on the inlay of the table beside her. "I am at your service, Monsieur." Donaque bowed. "It will be necessary, and 1 trust not embarrassing, that I pay Madame thf Baroness a short visit." "■\Vhat!" she demanded incredulously. "Here? Absurd!"

"It must be so, Madame," lie returned. "Otherwise —" He paused meaningly. "It will save Madame much inconvenience," he concluded gently. The Baroness laughed. "Monsieur, you—the Republic of France does me too much honor!"

"I beg of Madame not to be displeased," petitioned Donaque. "And if I refuse?" "Paris."

Tlie Baroness paused for a full halfminute. "I prefer Neuilly," she smiled through her pallor. "What are Moiv siour's wishes?" "To pass the next few hours precisely as did M. Faubcrt before he died!" announced Donaque sharply. The Barons.ss gave an enigmatical smile. "As Monsieur wishes!" She touched a china bell upon the tripod at her elbow, and the lackey entered. "Monsieur will remain here for the night. Send for Bertrand." For the space of three minutes Donaque and the woman eyed each other narrowly. At the end of that time a handsome, bronzed, broad-shouldered man in the dress of a valet entered. "Show Monsieur to the chamber occupied bv M. Faubert last Wednesday night," .said the Baroness in a peculiar voice, the timbre of which aroused long-forgotten memories in Donaque.. "M'sicirwill dress for dinner? Yes. — Bertrand, see that Monsieur is properly taken care of." Donaque gave her a low bow. "Madame is too kind!" he smiled. "May I ask if you have other guests staying with you-'" The Bareness shook her head. "I am alone, Monsieur." Bertrand. conducted Donaque up another flight of stairs and down a hall to the huge bedchamber described by the old sexton. The sun had sunk behind the trees, and in the recesses of the room a silvery dusk had already gathered; but the valet touched a button near the door and flooded them with the light of a multitude of electric lamps. The chief object of furniture was a magnificent Louis XIV. canopied bed.

• "Tlie bath is here, Monsieur," said the valet, with a slightly Teutonic accent, opening a door near the head or the bed. Donaque nodded. He was less interested in the toilet arrangements than in the man himself, for to the detective's observant eye he was no more a valet than an ass masquerading m a lion's skin. If this man were, in fact, a servant, he was accustomed to the unusual occupations of tennis, hunting, and other forms of outdoor sport. He could never have acquired such a tan below-stairs. "You are a Frenchman?" suddenly inquired Donaque. "Yes," replied the man uneasily—"Alsace." His bearing and demeanor were not unlike, those of a man accustomed to be waited on himself, and his lowering brows and coal-black eyes indicated a temper less usual in a servant than a master. ' . ~ rl , , j "What time is dinner/" asked Donaque, throwing himself into a big chair and taking a cigarette from his pocket with a deliberation of which the ostensible valet took no advantage to offer him a light. "In three-quarters of an- hour, M'sieu." "I will.rest here," said Donaque. "You need not remain." "I will then fetch Monsieur's valise, answered Bertrand. He bowed slightly and left the room, leaving the door open. Donaque watched his shadow vanish down the hallway. Then he sprang from his chair and minutely examined the great bed in which M. Faubert had breathed his last. Next he ran his fingers over the panels of the walls, peered into the vases, of which there were several, shook the folds of the hangings, and took a rapid survey of the bathroom. His entire inspection did not occupy than three minutes, and lie had regained his chair and remained there motionless for a full quarter of an hour more before the valet's footfalls echoed on the stairs. In his right hand lie carried Donaqiuvs valise, but its weight was hardly enough to account for the tiny drops gathered upon his brow or the nervousness of his steps. Fear and animal hate struggled for supremacy in his eyes. Something had occurred during his ab-

sence to unsteady his nerves. Donaque had expected that it would occur. Yet lie had not. expected that the signs of it would be so obvious. That the Baroness should seize her opportunity was only natural, however, and only by giving iier the opportunity in question could lie hope to learn her secret. He was deliberately staking his life in order that he "might discover how she would attempt to take it. But to Donaque this was part of the game. Therein lay the humor of his request "to pass the next few hours precisely as did M. Faubert before he .died," and her direction to Bertrand to "see that Monsieur is properly taken care of." ~ Donaque, lazily smoking his cigarette,, with an open novel in his lap, was. waiting with lynx-like intensity to see in just what manner he was going to be "cared for;"

Bertrand laid the valise upon the bed and, opening it, commenced to lay out in an orderly manner Donaque's evening clothes. The detective appeared to resume the Teading which he had momentarily; interrupted to. toss the valet the key of. the valise. "Monsieur will bathe?" inquired the latter.

"Yes." answered Donaque, without raising his eyes. Bertrand moved, to the adjoining bathroom and turned on the water. Behind, lipon the bed, lay, neatly- arranged, Donaque's underclothes, socks, trousers, waistcoat, collar, tie, and shirt. Bertrand returned and fumbled with the shirt. His lingers seemed to be all thumbs, but finally he inserted the collar-button in the back and fastened thereto the collar. Donaque arose slowly from where he was sitting and closed the door of the chamber, as if to insure' the privacy necessary for dressirig; but before liis hand left the knob his fingers deftly turned the key in the lock and removed it. Then he sauntered toward the bed.

"I observe," he remarked carelessly, nursing his moustache with one hand, "that you have presented me with a collar-button."

Bertrand gave an involuntary start and tried ineffectually to speak. "I —'* he stammered at last, avoiding the eyes of Donaque—"Monsieur had no button in his collar, and I took the liberty of offering him one of my own." "Very kind of you," replied Donaque, taking up the shirt and examining the humble implement in question. It was a sufficiently ordinary-looking affair and differed from those which one purchases in the shops only in that it seemed to be made of silver instead of brass plated with gold. "Very kind of you, indeed," repeated the detective. "But' I am unaccustomed to collar-buttons of silver —in fact, I am rather eccentric in my manner of dress, and have a pronounced penchant for buttons of brass. No doubt you have another, eh? Would it be asking too much to request you, for instance, to remove the one you have on and exchange it for this?" Bertrand turned pale under the tan. He seemed to be stifling. "Certainly, if Monsieur will be so kind as to permit me to remove the one now in the shirt, I will fetch him another button from my room."

Donaque smiled. "You would not care to wear this one yourself?" he asked mockingly. "Does it by any chance resemble the one worn by M. Faubert on the night of his death?"

He detached it from the neckband of the shirt and held it before the eyes of the valet, who with an oath leaped to one side and struck the object from Donaque's fingers. "Pig of a Frenchman!" he gasped and, springing to the door, tried to open it. Then, for the first time realising that his escape was barred, lie gave vent to a snarl of rage and faced Donaque defiantly, his face transformed into that of a handsome beast.

"Come, my friend," said Donaque soothingly. "Do not resort to violence. The only question between us is whether or not you will go with me quietly." For answer Bertrand suddenly extinguished the lights. For a moment the two held their breath in silence. The curtains had been drawn, and the darkness of night was in the room —a darkness heavy, thick, oppressive as that of a jungle. Yet in the darkness one solitary gleam of light was visible —a pale, bluish glow like a bead of phosphorus in the wake of a boat's stern —from beneath a table in a distant corner of the great room. Donaque knew that the man's first thought would be to regain possession of the fantastic instrument of. death to which the ingenuity of his mistress had resorted, a means undemonstrable without the implement itself—the collar-button of M. Faubert! For a moment the silence was unbroken save for the heavy breathing of the valet; then Donaque heard the nap of the carpet softlv stir under stealthy, cat-like footsteps.. Bertrand was moving toward the bead of light. Donaque silently crept in the same direction, keeping pace with the almost noiseless noise of the other's feet.

They had now covered the length of the room, and the shape of the button as it lav upon its side under the table was distinctly visible. Donaque, by some, exteriorised power of sense, felt the valet stoop and' stretch his arm toward the spot of light. This was the moment for him to act. Silently Donaque sprang, his fingers clutching for Bertrand's throat. At the same moment his head came in contact with an intervening object which fell with a crash, carrving him with it, l>or an instant he lav half stunned. The sound of heavy breathing and of scrambling feet told him that Bertrand had secured the prize. The next move of the valet would be to make good his escape — through the window, probably. In an instant Donaque was on his feet again, creeping toward the windows. He could no longer hear or see anything. He stopped and peered through the darkness. At the same instant, not three feet from him and at about the same distance from the floor, suddenlv reappeared a bluish blur ot light. Slowly it moved in a horizontal direction across the room. Donaque s pulse quickened as he realised that the j valet, in his excitement, had forgotten the penetrating quality of the rays of radium. Two feet above the glow Donaque knew were Bertrand s shoulders ; above them was Bertrand s head —the man was at his mercy. Measuring his distance, Donaque darted behind the valet, and, getting a stranglehold upon his neck, pressed a tiny sphere of glass to the man's nose and. mouth, cracking it to flinders, as he did so, between his fingers. A sharp, pungent odor pierced the air as with a knife,,, and Bertrand collapsed with-, out a struggle. A moment later, in the white light of the electric lamps Donaque examined his victim curiously as he snapped a. pair of slender chains upon the man s wrists and ankles and thrust a gag made of bath-towel into his mouth. The little ethode had done its work well and quickly--more accurately and usefully than any firearm. He had. taken his man alive —so much more businesslike than putting the final quietus upc-n him and by an enforced silence destroying his usefulness forever. "As I expected!" muttered Donaqu". as his fingers came in contact in another of the valet's pockets with a tiny case of lead, the. interior of which bore the imprint of a collar button. The detective placed the button inside it and, closing the case, concealed it carefully in an inside pocket of his coat. Jno rays, however powerful, could penetrate that magic wall of lead. The giant was chained and helpless until Donaque should see fit to release him. The genie was in his bottle. And that genie was worth, in the specie of France, exactly sixty thousand francs! He dragged Bertrand to the foot of the bed and tied him there, helpless, with its linen sheets. The little clock of Dresden on the mantel shelf strucK the quarter. Donaque was beginning to feel hungry. The water was still running m tlie bathroom. The valet .-e----mained unconscious. Glancing first at the door, the detective unconcernedly removed his clothes and took a bath, after which he dried himself luxuriously upon the remaining bath-towel, and donned his evening clothes. Then he repacked his valise, placed it outside, and, locking the door of the chamber, thrust the key into his pocket.

I trust Bertrand has made j'ou quite

comfortable?" asked the Baroness, as

she indicated the seat opposite her own at the great table in the dining-room a feu- moments later.

The detective raised his glass to his lips. "He was more attractive than attentive," he replied. Donaque ate with a good appetite, enjoying the deftness and rapidity of the service, and the daintiness of the china and table linen. Such things

outside "bis own business appealed to him. Likewise He gave bis unstinted admiration to the subtle beauty of the woman before him, the perfect outline of whose features was just beginning to show the fulheSsof maturity.. Her self-, control was superb; yet'now*and>then she betrayed a nervousness which; lie fully appreciated. She was wondering, watching, waiting for him to show some sign of the deadly effect of the genie in the bottle. Fish followed soup and an entree the fish. The best of French and German wines filled the glasses at his elbow, and no restaurant of Paris could have surpassed this strange meal in culinary perfection. The Baroness talked lightly of the country round, the history of the chateau —even of M. Faufeert, praising Ms great qualities of mind and spirit. The dessert was removed and a serving man passed coffee and liqueurs, with slender Parisian cigarettes. His hostess placed one between her lips, lighted it, and with elbows on the table sent a challenging glance through the smoke to the man sitting so calmly opposite her. "And, so far, are you satisfied with the manner in which M. Faubert spent his last evening upon earth?" she asked.

"Truly, after such a banquet, with so charming and beautiful a hostess, one would choose either to live on forever in her company or —to- die leaving the memory of it "undisturbed," answered Donaquc. The Baroness laughed, flattered at a compliment even from a police official. Moreover, the grotesque and bitter humor, of the situation —for Donaque—appealed to her. Before midnight he would be no longer to be feared. "It is always thus, my friend, is it not?" said she. "East, drink, and enjoy yourself, for to-morrow you die." Donaque read her thoughts. Inside his mask he, too, was laughing. "So soon?" he smiled.

"Perhaps," she answered, with halfclosed eyes. "If not," she aded, "we mi "lit be friends." For a moment the detective made no reply. Then he laid down his cigarette and leaned forward. "Madame," said he abruptly, "have you continued your investigations into the mysteries of radium ?" "I?" she cried. "Radium?"

"Yes, Madame," returned' Donaque. "I had always supposed that you had the great fortune to possess a considerable quantity of that invaluable element. Am I not correct?"

The eyes of the Baroness narrowed to mere slits, and involuntarily she placed her left hand upon her breast. "Why do you ask me that?" she demanded. "Because," returned Donaque, "I have found it important in my profession to acquaint myself with some accuracy as to the whereabouts of such amounts of the element as may be available. For instance, I note that as Lena Schmidt you twice purchased during the year 1899 as much as a quarter grain through Dublatz of Leipsic. That is no inconsiderable quantity. A. few years later my records show that half a grain came into your possession through your acquaintance with Dr Giesel. Within eighteen months I am informed you secured an entire grain from the Austrian Government by means of the intermediation of the Bureau of Foreign Affairs and the influence of no less a person than M. Faubert himself." The cigarette dropped from the delicate fingers of the Baroness Berlitz, and a dusky pallor spread across her face. The gleam in her eyes changed from that of the tigress,to that of a frightened fox. But Donaque appeared to be deep in his own thoughts. "You and I know the wonderful qualities of this mysterious element; yet >' is strange how little the world at large is acquainted with its almost supernatural powers —its terrible effect upon the human body, for example, when placed in juxtaposition with a vital part. I have often wondered at the infrequeney with which it his been used as a means to take human life, for it leaves no trace behind it. Only one case I know — that of a dentist who filled his victim's tooth with a composition containing radium bromide. The man died in horrible agony within a few days—yet uu doctor suspected the cause of the frightful abscess which formed upon his jaw." Donaque stopped and shot a glance across the table at the Baroness, who sat rigid, her teeth fastened in her lower lip, her bosom heaving rapidly. "How easy it would be," continued Donaque relentlessly, "to cause death by inducing a person a wear near his spinal cord some little object containing a few grains of radium—say a collar button?"

The Baroness uttered a gasping cry and pressed her hands to her temples. ''Like this," lie added, taking from his pocket the leaden case and laving it open upon the table. "Like.this." The woman sprang to her feet, overturning several of the glasses and gazing wildly at Donaque. "Bertrand!" It was a low cry for help. "Bertrand!" she repeated, her face ashen. "He will not come, Madame!" said Donaque gravely. "But perhaps you will go to him ? Is it asking too much?"

She stared at him helplessly. "Thjs evening 1 have been your guest. I must beg the privilege of returning your hospitality. I must request you to become for a little time the guest of the republic of France. Tomorrow morning the newspapers will print the news that there is a shortage in the accounts of the Ministry of Finance amounting to five million francs. Are you ready to go, Madame?" A look of despair crossed her face, and her lips framed the noiseless word, "Where?"

"To Paris, Madame," answered Do naque. \