TRAILED BY FATALITIES.
Although the detective had been in London before he visited Paris, he
had not sought Nan, who was in that city on the quest he had given her;
just now, in talking with the chief, he half wished that he had done so.
But he was satisfied that he had not made a mistake in his conjectures
concerning Juno.
She had been a dangerous woman always. According to the conversation
the detective had had with Nan—always provided that this woman was the
same who had once been Siren—she had begun to scatter danger around
her, even when she was still a child. The peril of her propinquity had
grown greater with the physical development until now even the chief of
the secret police of Paris acknowledged that he had nearly been one of
her victims.
While the detective was studying the chief, the chief was contemplating
him. It was the latter who spoke first.
“I wish, Carter, that you would take me more into your confidence,” he
said. “If I was made aware of precisely what you want, it might be that
I could help you. Or, will you have a look at the _dossier_ first?”
“The _dossier_, please; after that I will try to be quite frank. But,
first—you assure me that this woman has no criminal record?”
“None that could be designated as such. You will discover all that when
you read the _dossier_.”
“Will you tell me just why she has made herself so prominently a figure
for the police to study?”
“Ah! That is different. ‘The Leopard’ has been what you might call ‘a
near-criminal’ ever since she first came to our notice; but she has
never been quite one, that we can ascertain, or prove.”
“I see. Will you tell me how she first attracted the attention of the
police of Paris? That might be interesting.”
“Yes. That was a curious case. There was a certain Prince Turnieff
here in Paris as a diplomatic agent of the Russian government. We
were keeping half an eye upon the prince, not being quite sure of his
status, and we noticed that he was frequently seen in the company of a
beautiful young woman who was a stranger to us.”
“And that woman was Juno?”
“Eh? Who?”
“The woman you call ‘The Leopard.’ I know her by the name of Juno.”
“Ah; an apt name. It fits her. Yes; that woman was—Juno.”
“Well?”
“It was known that the prince was a very rich man in his own right.
Whatever his capacity was here in representing his government, he lived
in regal style, spent money lavishly, possessed a fortune in jewels and
precious stones, and did what in your country you would call cutting a
wide swath. He was also a handsome man, young and gifted. Just the sort
of a man that the average woman would admire. See?”
“Perfectly.”
“He lived in a palace in the Faubourg St. Germain, which he had leased,
furnished; he maintained a retinue of servants and lived like royalty.
One day, at four o’clock in the afternoon, he was found dead in the
library of that palace. There was a bullet hole in his right temple,
and he had died instantly.
“But, Carter, there seemed to be no doubt that he had killed himself.
Everything in the room bore evidence of that, even to a half-written
note that he had left on the table near where the body was discovered.
“But the last person who was known to have been with him was the
woman you call Juno, and whom I call ‘The Leopard.’ She was arrested,
questioned, subjected to every art that the French police employ to
force her to tell all she knew of the circumstances, but we might just
as well have left her alone, so far as any result was obtained from
her. She smiled at us, defied us, bewitched us, fascinated all of us.
That was the time when I so nearly fell under her spell myself. She was
permitted to go; but ever after that we felt it our duty to keep her
under close surveillance.
“But that is not all of the story, as it relates to Prince Turnieff.
“I have said that he made a great display of wealth; that he had in his
possession several fortunes in jewels. I should have added that he did
no business at the banks, and that because of that, it was assumed that
he had brought with him all the cash he required.
“It was estimated that he must have had a million francs or more in
cash in his house at the time of his death, to say nothing of the
jewels. When I tell you that after his death there was no trace found
of either cash or jewels, and that none of it has ever been seen
since, you will understand how it was that Juno, as you call her, was
suspected.”
The detective nodded.
“Still,” continued the chief, “there was nothing against the woman. It
could not even be established that she had been other than a friend and
a companion of the rich prince. On that day when he killed himself—or
was presumed to have done so—she had been with him in his library
only a short time, and it was not until more than two hours after her
departure that the body was discovered.
“You wished to know what it was that brought her first to our
attention; that was the circumstance.”
“And the next one? What was that?”
“It happened to be another victim—if I may use the term. This time it
was an Austrian. We did not know till after his death that he was a spy
in the service of Austria, but that developed later.”
“Did the Austrian also kill himself?”
“No; he was murdered in cold blood. But it happened more than an hour
after he had parted with your Juno, and there was not a thing to
connect her with the crime, save that she had been with him an hour
previously—and that all his money and valuables had disappeared at the
time of his death. He was killed while he was the occupant of a closed
carriage in which they had been riding together; the carriage stopped
at the door where she lived to put her down, and the driver testified
that the man was alive after she left him.
“He was a diplomatic agent, also; and, as in the other case, it
was said that papers of great value, as well as other things, had
disappeared from his person.
“I could give you other incidents of the same sort, Carter, that have
happened in her career. The police of St. Petersburg could do the same.
Vienna, Berlin, and other centres of activity could each add a quota;
and there you are. Now, I will ask you to read her _dossier_, and
after that we will discuss her further, if you desire it.”
The chief touched a button and gave a direction; and, presently, with
an open volume before him, Nick withdrew into a corner and passed half
an hour in studying what had been written down in it under the name of
“The Leopard.”
At the end of that time he closed the volume and drew his chair forward.
“The _dossier_ tells me nothing new,” he said to the chief. “It gives
me no further information than that already supplied by you, save that
it goes into details rather more particularly.”
“Exactly.”
“I find that the part which interests me most is in that sentence
already quoted, used by her in her rejection of the suit of the Duc
de Luvois. I believe, chief, that I can establish the identity of the
woman, through an agent of mine who is now in London. I think that I
can do so, but I am not certain as yet.”
“Then you will accomplish more than all my force has been able to do,
Carter.”
“Through an accident, believe me; not through lack of zeal, or because
of deficient ability on the part of your men.”
“That’s as it may be. Are you willing to tell me who you think she is?”
“Unless you insist, I would rather keep that to myself until I am
certain.”
“Very well. I cannot blame you for that. Does the woman know that you
are on her track? Does she suspect that you are searching out her
record?”
“She suspects; I do not think she knows.”
“You are positive that she suspects?”
“No; I am not positive; but I suppose she does suspect. I am morally
certain of it.”
“Carter, have you read that _dossier_ very carefully?”
“Yes.”
“Have you taken careful account of the number of fatalities to others
that have followed in her wake wherever she has gone?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. There is one thing which is not written down in words upon
that record, and it is to that I now call your attention.”
“What is it, chief?”
“I have said that we have never been able to prove anything against
your Juno. The principle reason for that is that in every case where
it has been supposed that she could no longer escape us, death by
violence, self-inflicted, or otherwise, has removed the person, or
persons, whose testimony might have convicted her. Does that statement
convey an idea to you, Carter?”
“Yes. You mean to tell me, in that roundabout fashion, that if Juno
suspects that I am on her track my own life is in danger. Is that it?”
“My dear fellow, I am speaking only in generalities; you may call it
superstition if you like; but fatalities have pursued those who have
been inimical to the peace and liberty of that woman. Whether it is the
result of coincidence or of design, I am not prepared to say; but if I
were on that woman’s trail and had unearthed anything which could be
used against her, and knew that she suspected it, I would make my will
and all arrangements for a sudden taking off, confidently expecting
that death might overtake me at any moment.”
“You would make Juno out a murderer, chief.”
“I would make her out what she is called, a leopard, who destroys.
Whether she strikes the necessary blows herself or has them delivered
for her—who can say? If she plots the fatalities and arranges them—who
can tell? If the fiend himself protects her and drives men mad and
makes them kill themselves—who can determine? The facts remain. Those
who are hostile to that woman die. There you are.”
“I have lived rather a long time, chief, and I am not dead yet.”
“No; but if that woman suspects that you are on her trail with any
chance of doing her a permanent injury, I wouldn’t give a centime for
your life; not one.”
The detective shrugged his shoulders and smiled; but he made no further
comment.
Then the chief took the receiver from the telephone hook, in answer to
a call that came in at that moment.