CHAPTER XX.

THE SIREN EXERTS HER SKILL.

Had the detective known that Juno was in Paris at that moment he might possibly have paid more attention to the remarks of the chief of police.

But he was soon to know it.

When the chief took down the telephone, Nick picked up a paper that was lying on the desk and was scanning the front page, when an ejaculation from his companion caused him to turn his head and regard the man attentively.

“Very well,” he heard the chief say over the phone, in French, “let nothing throw you off the scent, Mouquin. Keep me informed. Let me know everything concerning her with the least possible delay. It is vitally important, just at this time.”

He replaced the receiver on its hook and turned to Nick Carter.

“My friend,” he said, “you will admit that perhaps I am not an unwise prophet. You are here in Paris on the trail of The Leopard; The Leopard is here in Paris on your trail. I am so informed by one of my best men, Mouquin by name. What will you?”

“Do you mean to tell me that Juno is in Paris?” asked Nick, interested.

“She has only just left the train at the _gare du nord_,” was the reply.

“Are you sure that there can be no mistake, chief?”

“Perfectly.”

“And she has entered the city openly? Without any attempt at disguise?”

“Yes. Why should she disguise herself? There is nothing for which we can apprehend the woman. She knows that every footstep she takes while she is here will be watched. She has known that for a long time. I think she rather likes it; so why should she not come here openly?”

“What has brought her here, I wonder?” mused the detective.

“You have brought her here, my friend,” replied the chief.

“But, why should she follow me here? I know why she would like to have me out of the way—dead, if you will—but——”

“Listen here, Mr. Carter. On the other side of the water, in your own country, you are something of a celebrity. Murder is as common there as here, but it is done differently, as a rule. Believe me, you are a dangerous man to that woman, and, being dangerous, she desires to overcome that danger. Very well; there is no place on earth where she would rather see you just now, than here in Paris. In coming here you have played directly into her hands.”

“Well, admitting that it is so, what then?”

“What then? He asks me, what then? Death, then, my friend!”

“And you, the chief of the secret police of Paris, sit here, in your chair, in your own private office, and tell me that? And you still permit such a woman to run at large in the streets of your city!”

Nick smiled when he made that remark; smiled tauntingly.

The chief hunched his shoulders, spread out his hands, palms upward, screwed his face into an indescribable expression, and replied:

“What can I do? What could you do, in my position? Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I could at least keep the woman under such close surveillance that she would not make a move that I did not know about. She would not——”

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Well, I will do that. I have already given directions to that effect. But I have done it before, times without number—and it has always been the same.”

“The same what? Do you mean that she gives you the slip?”

“I mean that, although my men believe that they can put their hands upon her at any moment of the day or night, while they watch her, yet—yet the things that I have attempted to describe, happen.”

“Who is the man who telephoned to you just now, chief?”

“Louis Mouquin; one of my best men. There is no better detective in Paris to-day, and not another one who is as good at shadowing.”

“He has shadowed her before, has he not?”

“Yes. Many times.”

“Then you can rely upon it she is ‘onto his curves,’ all right.”

“She is—what?”

“She knows the man and his methods. No matter how good he is, he is no good so far as she is concerned.”

“What, then, would you do, Carter? I am quite willing to take any suggestion from you that you can make.”

“Very well, then, I will make this one. I’ll take the job of trailing that woman myself.”

“You, Carter?”

“Yes.”

“For me? For this department?”

“Certainly; only, if I do that—for you, and not wholly for myself—you must call off your own men and leave it all to me alone.”

For the fraction of a moment the chief hesitated. Then a quiet smile stole across his face, and he replied:

“Very well. It shall be done. I appoint you—without pay; eh?”

“Certainly. I am now a special, under your orders; but there is one other thing I must have, chief.”

“What is that?”

“Authority.”

“Eh? What sort of authority?”

“A written appointment over your signature; a badge; anything. I don’t care what it is, so long as it bestows the authority I want and gives me the command over any of your men whom I may chance to meet.”

“You shall have that. I will give you the badge which will place you next in authority to me. That place happens to be vacant just now. It shall be yours so long as you remain in Paris. And I will send you to Mouquin. He will show you to what place——”

“Pardon me, chief, but I would prefer it in another way.”

“Well? As you please. What, then?”

“I will sit right here until Mouquin telephones to this office again. When he does so, you will tell him to bring The Leopard here to you. If she should hesitate to come——”

“Oh, she will not do that. She will probably be delighted to come here.”

“Indeed? Well, I will remain here till she arrives. I will see her here.”

“And then——”

“Chief, you and I work on different plans and by different methods; but we work to the same ends.”

“Assuredly.”

“In the case of a person like this woman something new and entirely original has to be undertaken. There are circumstances where I think it is best to play your cards, face up, on the table, and this is one of them. When she arrives here you will see what I mean.”

“Do you intend to let her know that you are to take the trail after her, and that——”

“Exactly, chief. But, wait until she arrives. You have other business to attend to now. I will amuse myself with these books here until Mouquin telephones. After that, he will not be long in bringing the woman here, will he?”

“No. Very well. As you say, my friend.”

It was an hour later when Mouquin called again and notified the chief of the street and number to which Juno had betaken herself; and then he received his orders to bring her to the private office of the chief without delay. When another half hour had passed she was ushered into the room.

Nick had felt no doubt that Juno was aware of his presence in Paris, but he did expect her to manifest some surprise at finding him in that office in consultation with the chief of the secret police.

But, quite on the contrary, her eyes sought him at once after she had greeted the chief, and she turned to him with a smile and exclaimed, quite as if she had confidently expected to see him:

“How do you do, Mr. Carter? We meet again, in a strange place, after our last interview; is it not so?”

“I must confess that I did not expect to find Mrs. Dinwiddie in Paris so soon,” replied the detective, rising and stepping toward her. Then, addressing the chief, he added: “Chief, I wish to present you to madam by her true name; a name which I fancy you have not known—Mrs. Dinwiddie, of Virginia.”

She laughed, and with a gayety which did not appear to be assumed.

“I am a respectable married woman now, chief,” she said. “I am, indeed, Mrs. Ledger Dinwiddie, of Virginia, and if you are perhaps wondering why I am here, or in Paris at all, I will enlighten you without delay. Mr. Carter, as you doubtless know, is that famous detective whom all America praises. He is supposed to be exceptionally great in his class, and his profession has brought about a strange circumstance.

“Notwithstanding the great ability of Mr. Carter, he has committed a grievous error. He has mistaken my husband for a man who was once a criminal, but who is now dead. The highest court in the State of New York has adjudged that criminal to be dead and accepted the proofs of identity offered by my husband. Yet Mr. Carter persists in asserting that Ledger Dinwiddie is that dead criminal. Remarkable, isn’t it?”

The chief did not reply. He preferred not to commit himself. He waited; but, in the meantime, he devoured the beauty of the woman with his eyes. It was quite true that she had brought with her into that obscure office a radiance, a fascination, and an atmosphere of influence which affected every person there.

It was not her beauty alone; it was a certain magnetism which seemed to shed energy around her like the particles that spring spontaneously from radium.

As no one spoke, she continued:

“Not long ago, Mr. Carter appeared, during an evening, at my home in Virginia. He did not say that he was a detective, then; and I did not suspect it till after he had gone away. I remembered that Mr. Carter possessed an international reputation, and thought it not unlikely that he knew something about me, as you have known me here. I followed him to New York when he returned there—and then I followed him here.”

She paused for a moment and turned squarely toward Nick Carter. Then she spoke directly to him.

“I have followed you here, Mr. Carter, for my own protection,” she said, using her eyes with all the art she possessed, and lowering her voice until it purred like the animal for which the Paris police had named her. “The chief will tell you that I am not a criminal, and that there is nothing against me, although many ugly things have been said about me.

“Mr. Carter, I do not want to have all these matters discussed over there in your country, where I have married, and am happy, so I have come here after you to plead with you to spare me. Surely that is not a great boon to ask at your hands. I ask you now to come with me to my hotel so that I may tell you the story of my chequered life—so that I may prevail upon you to become my champion instead of my traducer. Will you go there with me?”