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30 chapters
A BLOOD-RED SKY
A BLOOD-RED SKY
It is worthy of note that the most remarkable criminal case in which the famous French detective, Paul Coquenil, was ever engaged, a case of more baffling mystery than the Palais Royal diamond robbery and of far greater peril to him than the Marseilles trunk drama—in short, a case that ranks with the most important ones of modern police history—would never have been undertaken by Coquenil (and in that event might never have been solved) but for the extraordinary faith this man had in certain str
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COQUENIL'S GREATEST CASE
COQUENIL'S GREATEST CASE
After leaving Notre-Dame, Paul Coquenil directed his steps toward the prefecture of police, but halfway across the square he glanced back at the church clock that shows its white face above the grinning gargoyles, and, pausing, he stood a moment in deep thought. "A quarter to seven," he reflected; then, turning to the right, he walked quickly to a little wine shop with flowers in the windows, the Tavern of the Three Wise Men, an interesting fragment of old-time Paris that offers its cheery but b
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PRIVATE ROOM NUMBER SIX
PRIVATE ROOM NUMBER SIX
The night was black and rain was falling in torrents as Paul Coquenil and the commissary rolled away in response to this startling summons of crime. Up the Rue Mozart they sped with sounding horn, feeling their way carefully on account of troublesome car tracks, then faster up the Avenue Victor Hugo, their advance being accompanied by vivid lightning flashes. "He was in luck to have this storm," muttered Coquenil. Then, in reply to Pougeot's look: "I mean the thunder, it deadened the shot and ga
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"IN THE NAME OF THE LAW"
"IN THE NAME OF THE LAW"
When Kittredge, with cloak and bag, stepped into his waiting cab and, for the second time on this villainous night, started down the Champs Elysées he was under no illusion as to his personal safety. He knew that he would be followed and presently arrested, he knew this without even glancing behind him, he had understood the whispers and searching looks in the hotel; it was certain that his moments of liberty were numbered, so he must make a clean job of this thing that had to be done while stil
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COQUENIL GETS IN THE GAME
COQUENIL GETS IN THE GAME
It was a long night at the Ansonia and a hard night for M. Gritz. France is a land of infinite red tape where even such simple things as getting born or getting married lead to endless formalities. Judge, then, of the complicated procedure involved in so serious a matter as getting murdered—especially in a fashionable restaurant! Long before the commissary had finished his report there arrived no less a person than M. Simon, the chief of police, round-faced and affable, a brisk, dapper man whose
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THE WEAPON
THE WEAPON
Right across from the Ansonia on the Rue Marboeuf was a little wine shop that remained open all night for the accommodation of cab drivers and belated pedestrians and to this Coquenil and the commissary now withdrew. Before anything else the detective wished to get from M. Pougeot his impressions of the case. And he asked Papa Tignol to come with them for a fortifying glass. "By the way," said the commissary to Tignol when they were seated in the back room, "did you find out how that woman left
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THE FOOTPRINTS
THE FOOTPRINTS
One of the great lessons Coquenil had learned in his long experience with mysterious crimes was to be careful of hastily rejecting any evidence because it conflicted with some preconceived theory. It would have been easy now, for instance, to assume that this prim spinster was mistaken in declaring that she had seen the pistol thrown from the window of Number Seven. That, of course, seemed most unlikely, since the shooting was done in Number Six, yet how account for the woman's positiveness? She
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THROUGH THE WALL
THROUGH THE WALL
Coquenil's examination of the pistol showed that it was a weapon of good make and that only a single shot had been fired from it; also that this shot had been fired within a few hours. Which, with the evidence of the seamstress and the dog, gave a strong probability that the instrument of the crime had been found. If the ball in the body corresponded with balls still in the pistol, this probability would become a practical certainty. And yet, the detective knit his brows. Suppose it was establis
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COQUENIL MARKS HIS MAN
COQUENIL MARKS HIS MAN
It was nearly four o'clock when Coquenil left the Ansonia and started up the Champs Elysées, breathing deep of the early morning air. The night was still dark, although day was breaking in the east. And what a night it had been! How much had happened since he walked with his dog to Notre-Dame the evening before! Here was the whole course of his life changed, yes, and his prospects put in jeopardy by this extraordinary decision. How could he explain what he had done to his wise old mother? How co
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GIBELIN SCORES A POINT
GIBELIN SCORES A POINT
The next day all Paris buzzed and wondered about this Ansonia affair, as it was called. The newspapers printed long accounts of it with elaborate details, and various conjectures were made as to the disappearance of Martinez's fair companion. More or less plausible theories were also put forth touching the arrested American, prudently referred to as "Monsieur K., a well-known New Yorker." It was furthermore dwelt upon as significant that the famous detective, Paul Coquenil, had returned to his o
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THE TOWERS OF NOTRE-DAME
THE TOWERS OF NOTRE-DAME
It was a distressed and sleepless night that Alice passed after the torturing scene of her lover's arrest. She would almost have preferred her haunting dreams to this pitiful reality. What had Lloyd done? Why had this woman come for him? And what would happen now? Again and again, as weariness brought slumber, the sickening fact stirred her to wakefulness—they had taken Kittredge away to prison charged with an abominable crime. And she loved him, she loved him now more than ever, she was absolut
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CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XII
It was not until after vespers that Alice was able to leave Notre-Dame and start for the Villa Montmorency—in fact, it was nearly five when, with mingled feelings of confidence and shrinking, she opened the iron gate in the ivy-covered wall of Coquenil's house and advanced down the neat walk between the double hedges to the solid gray mass of the villa, at once dignified and cheerful. Melanie came to the door and showed, by a jealous glance, that she did not approve of her master receiving visit
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LLOYD AND ALICE
LLOYD AND ALICE
Kittredge was fortunate in having a sense of humor, it helped him through the horrors of his first night at the depot, which he passed with the scum of Paris streets, thieves, beggars, vagrants, the miserable crop of Saturday-night police takings, all herded into one foul room on filthy bunks so close together that a turn either way brought a man into direct contact with his neighbor. Lloyd lay between an old pickpocket and a drunkard. He did not sleep, but passed the hours thinking. And when he
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THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
Coquenil was neither surprised nor disappointed at the meager results of Alice's visit to the prison. This was merely one move in the game, and it had not been entirely vain, since he had learned that Kittredge might have used his left hand in firing a pistol and that he did not suffer with gout or rheumatism. This last point was of extreme importance. And the detective was speedily put in excellent humor by news awaiting him at the Palais de Justice Monday morning that the man sent to London to
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PUSSY WILMOTT'S CONFESSION
PUSSY WILMOTT'S CONFESSION
"Then your husband was the person you thought guilty that night?" questioned Coquenil. "Yes." "You told M. Kittredge when you called for him in the cab that you thought your husband guilty?" "Yes, but afterwards I changed my mind. My husband had nothing to do with it. If he had, do you suppose I would have told you this? No doubt he has misconducted himself, but——" "You mean Anita?" It was a chance shot, but it went true. She stared at him in amazement. "I believe you are the devil," she said, a
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THE THIRD PAIR OF BOOTS
THE THIRD PAIR OF BOOTS
The wheels of justice move swiftly in Paris, and after one quiet day, during which Judge Hauteville was drawing together the threads of the mystery, Kittredge found himself, on Tuesday morning, facing an ordeal worse than the solitude of a prison cell. The seventh of July! What a date for the American! How little he realized what was before him as he bumped along in a prison van breathing the sweet air of a delicious summer morning! He had been summoned for the double test put upon suspected ass
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"FROM HIGHER UP"
"FROM HIGHER UP"
A great detective must have infinite patience. That is, the quality next to imagination that will serve him best. Indeed, without patience, his imagination will serve him but indifferently. Take, for instance, so small a thing as the auger used at the Ansonia. Coquenil felt sure it had been bought for the occasion—billiard players do not have augers conveniently at hand. It was probably a new one, and somewhere in Paris there was a clerk who might remember selling it and might be able to say whe
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A LONG LITTLE FINGER
A LONG LITTLE FINGER
Coquenil kept his appointment that night at the Three Wise Men and found Papa Tignol waiting for him, his face troubled even to the tip of his luminous purple nose. In vain the old man tried to show interest in a neighboring game of dominoes; the detective saw at a glance that his faithful friend had heard the bad news and was mourning over it. "Ah, M. Paul," cried Tignol. "This is a pretty thing they tell me. Nom d'un chien , what a pack of fools they are!" "Not so loud," cautioned Coquenil wit
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TOUCHING A YELLOW TOOTH
TOUCHING A YELLOW TOOTH
It was a quarter past four, and still night, when Coquenil left the Hôtel des Étrangers; he wore a soft black hat pulled down over his eyes, and a shabby black coat turned up around his throat; and he carried the leather bag taken from the automobile. The streets were silent and deserted, yet the detective studied every doorway and corner with vigilant care, while a hundred yards behind him, in exactly similar dress, came Papa Tignol, peering into the shadows with sharpest watchfulness against h
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THE MEMORY OF A DOG
THE MEMORY OF A DOG
"It's a composition of rubber," laughed Coquenil. "You slip it on over your own tooth. See?" and he put back the yellow fang. "Extraordinary!" muttered Tignol. "Even now I hardly know you." "Then I ought to fool the wood carver." "Fool him? You would fool your own mother. That reminds me—" He rose as the train stopped. "Yes, yes?" questioned M. Paul eagerly. "Tell me about my mother. Is she well? Is she worried? Did you give her all my messages? Have you a letter for me?" Tignol smiled. "There's
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THE WOOD CARVER
THE WOOD CARVER
A detective, like an actor or a soldier, must go on fighting and playing his part, regardless of personal feelings. Sorrow brings him no reprieve from duty, so the next morning after the last sad offices for poor Cæsar, Coquenil faced the emergency before him with steady nerve and calm resolution. There was an assassin to be brought to justice and the time for action had come. This was, perhaps, the most momentous day of his whole career. Up to the very hour of luncheon M. Paul doubted whether t
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AT THE HAIRDRESSER'S
AT THE HAIRDRESSER'S
What had happened was very simple. The confessional box from which Alice had vanished was one not in use at the moment, owing to repairs in the wall behind it. These repairs had necessitated the removal of several large stones, replaced temporarily by lengths of supporting timbers between which a person might easily pass. Coquenil, with his habit of careful observation, had remarked this fact during his night in the church, and now he had taken advantage of it to effect Alice's escape. The girl
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GROENER AT BAY
GROENER AT BAY
Two hours later (it was nearly seven) Judge Hauteville sat in his office at the Palais de Justice, hurrying through a meal that had been brought in from a restaurant. "There," he muttered, wiping his mouth, "that will keep me going for a few hours," and he touched the bell. "Is M. Coquenil back yet?" he asked when the clerk appeared. "Yes, sir," replied the latter, "he's waiting." "Good! I'll see him." The clerk withdrew and presently ushered in the detective. "Sit down," motioned the judge. "Co
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THIRTY IMPORTANT WORDS
THIRTY IMPORTANT WORDS
"Now, Groener," resumed the magistrate after the shrimp had withdrawn, "why were you walking along this hotel balcony on the night of July 4th?" "I wasn't," answered the prisoner coolly. "The photographer positively identifies you." "He's mistaken, I wasn't there." "Ah," smiled Hauteville, with irritating affability. "You'll need a better defense than that." "Whatever I need I shall have," came the sharp retort. "Have you anything to say about those finger-nail marks?" "Nothing." "There's a pecu
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THE MOVING PICTURE
THE MOVING PICTURE
"Are you feeling better?" asked the judge an hour later when the accused was led back. "Yes," answered Groener with recovered self-possession, and again the detective noticed that he glanced anxiously at the clock. It was a quarter past eleven. "We will have the visual test now," said Hauteville; "we must go to another room. Take the prisoner to Dr. Duprat's laboratory," he directed the guard. Passing down the wide staircase, strangely silent now, they entered a long narrow passageway leading to
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COQUENIL'S MOTHER
COQUENIL'S MOTHER
In accordance with orders, Papa Tignol appeared at the Villa Montmorency betimes the next morning. It was a perfect summer's day and the old man's heart was light as he walked up the Avenue des Tilleuls, past vine-covered walls and smiling gardens. "Eh, eh!" he chuckled, "it's good to be alive on a day like this and to know what I know." He was thinking, with a delicious thrill, of the rapid march of events in the last twenty-four hours, of the keen pursuit, the tricks and disguises, the anxiety
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THE DIARY
THE DIARY
Coquenil's effort during the next month might be set forth in great detail. It may also be told briefly, which is better, since the result rather than the means is of moment. The detective began by admitting the practical worthlessness of the evidence in hand against this formidable adversary, and he abandoned, for the moment, his purpose of proving that De Heidelmann-Bruck had killed Martinez. Under the circumstances there was no way of proving it, for how can the wheels of justice be made to t
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A GREAT CRIMINAL
A GREAT CRIMINAL
Coquenil came back to consciousness his first thought was that the adventure had brought him no pain; he moved his arms and legs and discovered no injury, then he reached out a hand and found that he was lying on a cold stone floor with his head on a rough sack filled apparently with shavings. He did not open his eyes, but tried to think where he could be and to imagine what had happened. It was not conceivable that his enemy would let him escape, this delay was merely preliminary to something e
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THE LOST DOLLY
THE LOST DOLLY
As Alice saw M. Paul she ran forward with a glad cry and clung to his arm. "I've been so frightened," she trembled. "The man said you wanted me and I came at once, but, in the automobile, I felt something was wrong and—you know he is outside?" Her eyes widened anxiously. "I know. Sit down here." He pointed to the table. "Does Pougeot know about this?" She shook her head. "The man came for M. Pougeot first. I wasn't down at breakfast yet, so I don't know what he said, but they went off together.
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MRS. LLOYD KITTREDGE
MRS. LLOYD KITTREDGE
The details of the hours that followed remained blurred memories in the minds of Alice and her rescuer. There was, first, a period of utter blank when Coquenil, overcome by the violence of his struggle and the agony of his burns, fell unconscious near the unconscious girl. How long they lay thus in the dark playground of the fairies, so near the raging fire, yet safe from it, was never known exactly; nor how long they wandered afterwards through a strange subterranean region of passages and cros
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