Genre - Mystery & Crime. You are on the page - 15

crop upagain wherever the hair grew thin, lending him the appearance of abadly-singed pup.His pet superstition was that, as long as he refrained from practisinghis profession in Paris, Paris would remain his impregnable Tower ofRefuge. The world owed Bourke a living, or he so considered; and it mustbe allowed that he made collections on account with tolerable regularityand success; but Paris was tax-exempt as long as Paris offered himimmunity from molestation. Not only did Paris suit his tastes

ad all the way is like a circus," the young soldier observed, "and there isn't a thing to be seen when you get there. The naval airmen were all over the place at daybreak, and Captain Griffiths wasn't far behind them. You didn't leave much for the sightseers, sir," he concluded, turning to his neighbour."As Commandant of the place," Captain Griffiths replied, "I naturally had to have the Common searched. With the exception of the observation car, however, I think

new trail had not been noticed. It ran deep and well marked through the heavy brush of a gully to a place where the brush commenced to thin, and there it branched into a dozen dim trails that joined and blended with the old, well worn cattle paths of the hillside."Somebody's might foxy," observed the man; "but I don't see what it's all about. The days of cattle runners and bandits are over." "Just imagine!" exclaimed the girl. "A real mystery in our lazy, old

ing a painted ceiling. Oriental rugs and skins of animals were strewn about the marble floor. Beside a square pool guarded by a figure of Pan, banks of mimosa flowered and filled the air with their heavy swooning perfume.There was a semi-circular recess, like a shrine, approached by three marble steps and veiled by silk curtains of rosy pink. The existence of this singular apartment was destined to arouse keen curiosity in certain quarters (and before long) and to provoke equally keen

sh greycalled grisaille, formed the further side of the tiny apartment.Madame Poulain, turning a key, revealed a large roomy space now fitted upas a cupboard. "It's a way through into our bedroom, monsieur," she saidsmiling. "We could not of course allow our daughter to be far fromourselves." And Dampier nodded. He knew the ways of French people and sympathised withthose ways. He stepped up into the cupboard, curious to see if this too had been apowdering closet, and if that

ught over the body of Arthur Tims, Malcolm Sage's chauffeur. Sir John Dene had insisted that a car and a chauffeur were indispensable to a man who was to rival Pinkerton's. Malcolm Sage, on the other hand, had protested that it was an unnecessary expense in the early days of a concern that had yet to justify itself. To this Sir John Dene had replied, "Shucks!" at the same time notifying Tims that he was engaged for a year, and authorising him to select a car, find a garage, and wait