f that hurled chair, a figure which but a moment before had come
skulking to the window could now be seen.

"There he goes--there! there!" shrilled out a chorus of excited voices,
as the yellow-bearded, blue-bloused figure came into view. "After him!
Catch him! Knife him!"

In an instant they were at the door, tumbling out into the darkness,
pouring up the passage in hot pursuit. And it was at that moment the
balance changed again. Those who were in the front rank of the pursuers
were in time to see a lithe, thin figure, dressed as one of their own
kind, spring up in the path of that other figure, jump on it, grip it,
clap a huge square of sticky brown paper over the howling mouth of it,
and bear it, struggling and kicking, to the ground.

In another second they, too, were upon it, swarming over it like rats,
digging and hacking at it with their dirks. And so they were still
hacking at it--although it had long since ceased to move or to make any
sound--when Merode came up and called them to a halt.

"Drag it inside; let Margot have a thrust at it. It is her right. Pull
off the dog's disguise, and bring me the plucky one that captured him.
He shall have absinthe enough to swim in, the little king! Off with it
all, Lanchere. First, the plaster, that's right. Now, the wig and beard,
and after that---- What's that you say? The beard is real? The hair is
real? They will not come off? Name of the devil! what are you saying?"

"The truth, mon roi--the truth! Mother of disasters! It is not the
Cracksman--it is the real Clodoche we have killed!"

For one moment a sort of panic held them, swayed them, and befogged
their brains; then of a sudden Merode howled out "Get back! Get back!
The fellow's in there still!" and led a blind race down the passage to
the bar where they had seen Cleek last. It was still in darkness; but an
eager hand, gripping the lever, turned on the gas again and matches
everywhere were lifted to the jets.

And when the light flamed out and the room was again ablaze they knew
that they might as well hope to call back yesterday as dream of finding
Cleek again. For there on the floor, her limp hands turned palms upward,
a chloroformed cloth folded over her mouth and nose, lay the figure of
Margot, her bodice torn wide open and the paper forever gone!

* * * * *

It was five minutes later when the Count von Hetzler, crouching back in
the shadow of the square and waiting for