Cleek: the Man of the Forty Faces

tion that he forgets to offer a temptation in the way of reward, and speaks of outlandish things as though they must be understood of all. As witness his allusion to somethi

n, that the thi

be alone in the dark on the top floor of No. 7, Rue Toison

a grey frock-coat, white spats, and a shining topper, followed by a liveried servant with a hat-box in one hand and a portmanteau in the other-so conspicuous, the pair of them, that they couldn't h

urse, Cleek and

this is wot yer calls Gay Paree-this precious black slit between two rows of houses-I'll take a slice of the Old Kent Road wit

it down on the hat-box and wait. That's No. 7, that empty house with the open door, just across the way. Keep your

l "man-trap" of his own, which consisted of heavy brown paper, cut into squares, and thickly smeared over with a viscid varnish-like substance that would adhere to the feet of anybody incautiously stepping upon it, and so interfere with flight that it was an absolute necessity to stop and tear th

ble one, and, like all the others, fronted on another street-this dark Toison d'Or being merely a back passage used principally by the tradespeople for the delivery of supplies. Feeling his way to the first of the three flights of stairs which led upward into the stillness and gloom above, Cleek mounted steadily until he fou

t luminously, a cupboard door flashed open, a voice cried out in joyous, perfect English: "Thank God for a ma

en in the worl

reath and his hear

t he scarcely knew what he did. "It was the French positi

king her shake visibly. "I am merely the envoy of another. I should not know you, disguised as you are, but for that. Yes, I cho

efences, Miss Lorne-that enthusiastic old patriot, that rabid old spitfire, whose one dream is the wresting b

d see the wreck, the broken and despairing wreck, that six weeks of the C

eavens! then that letter

een about him, unsuspected, for almost a year; that he dare not, absolutely dare not, appeal to the French police, and that if it were known he had appealed to you, he would be a dead man inside of twenty-four hours, and not only dead, but-disgraced. Oh, Mr. Cleek!"-she stretched out two shaking hands and laid them on his arm,

hat the work is, and I will carry it through. What is this incomprehensible thing of whic

cry and fell back a step, cov

ancy-beyond belief! Why, oh, why were we ever driven to that horrible Chateau Larouge!

ed at such a thing. The Chateau Larouge I also have a distinct memory of, as an old historic property in the neighbourhood of St. Cloud. Speaking from past experience, I know that, although it is in such a state of decay, and supposed to be uninhabitable, it has, in fact, often been occupied at a period when the police and the public believed it to be quite empty. G

uilt, refitted by the Comtesse Susanne de la Tour, Mr. Cleek, and she and her brother live there. So do we-Athali

Lorne, what ar

her brother, Monsieur Gaston Merode. The baron has position but he has not wealth, Mr. Cleek. Athalie is ambitious. She loves luxury, riches, a life of fashion-all the things that boundless money can give; and when Monsieur Merode-who is young, handsome, and said to be fabulously wealthy-showed a distinct preference fo

is plans were not matured. At any rate, he did not propose to Athalie at Monte Carlo; and, although he and

not made

ks ago-to be exact, two nights befo

it was fi

was mysteriously burnt, leaving all three of us without an immediate refuge. In the meantime, Madame la Comtesse had purchased the ruin of the Chateau Larouge, and during the pe

en the villa was burnt out, Madame la Comtesse insisted that, as the fiancée of her brother, Mlle. de Carjorac must mak

o be haunted-and then Madame la Comtesse made a remarkable statement. She laughingly asserted that she had just learned that, in purchasing the Chateau Larouge, she had also become the possessor of a sort of family ghost. She said that she had only just heard-from an outside source-that there was a horrible legend connected with the place; in short, that for centuries

y that I know as much about the Chateau Larouge and its history as anybody, M

ll known that he has a natural antipathy to all crawling things-an abhorrence inherited from his mo

omething decidedly German about that fabulous 'monster' and that haunted chateau, Miss Lorne. They are clever and careful schemers, those German Johnnie

it had even touched him-a horrible, hideous red reptile, with squirming tentacles, a huge, glowing body, and eyes like flame. It had crept upon him out of the darkness-he knew not from where. It had seized him, resisted all his wild effor

importance to German interests. That's why the Chateau Larouge was refitted, why the Villa de Ca

to any living soul until he did so to me, to-day-and then only because he had to tell so

the Republic, the German army can swoop down in the night, cross the frontier, and gain immediate possession of the ports of France, in five hours' time it can be across the English Channel, and its hordes pouring down upon a sleeping people. To carry out this programme, the first step would, of course, be to secure knowledge of the number, location, manner of the secret defences of France-the plans of fortification, the maps of the 'danger zone,' the documentary evidence of her strongest and weakest points-and who so likely to be t

ar to me that he was going mad. Of course, Madame la Comtesse and her brother tried to reason him out of what he declared, tried to make him believe that it was all fancy-that he did not really see the fearful thing; it was equally in vain t

Miss L

atch, and then had said so often to poor, foolish, easily persuaded Athalie that it was useless doing anything so silly, as it was absolutely certain that her father only imagined the thing, that I-I determined to take the step myself, unkn

Lorne. Then the thing

the countess's room open; I saw the countess herself come out, accompanied by

ot her brothe

iss him. I saw her go with him to an angle of the c

ly, then, this Countess de la Tour is not what she seems, when she knows secrets that are known only to

her, to understand her, for when she waved her hand toward the open door of her own room it crawled away and, obeying that gesture, dragged its huge bulk over the threshold, and passed from sight. Then the man she called her brother kissed her again, and as

Now I know the 'lay'! No; don't ask me anything yet. Go on

"an earnest" of what the remainder is worth. And you must bring me that "remainder" without fail, Gaston-you hear me?-without fail! I shall be there, at the rendezvous, awaiting you, and the thing must be in our hands when von Hetzler comes. The thing must be finished to-morrow night, even if you and Serpice have to throw all caution to the winds and throttle the old fool.' Then, as if answering a further question

two betrayed her to me. Clodoche is a renegade Alsatian, a spy in the pay of the German Government, and an old habitué of 'The Inn of the Twisted Arm,' where the Queen of the Apaches and her p

e him, there was upon his person a most important document-a rough draft of the maps of fortification and the plan of the secret defences of France, the identical document from

cument w

the paper was old, much folding and handling had worn the creases through, and when, in his haste, the secret robber grabbed it, whilst tha

hing can be made of it until the other half is secured, and-our German friends are still 'up a gum-tree.' I know now why the baron stayed on at the Chateau Larouge, and why 'The Red Crawl' is preparing to pay him another visit to-night

back? You believe you can outwit those dreadful peopl

where I ask you in two hours' time, so surely as we two stand here this minute, I will put back the German calendar by ten years at least. They drin