r feeling than he had shown in years, and
then, as if not satisfied with this, he clasped the detective's hand and
added heartily: "I'm proud of you, old friend, I honor you."

Coquenil looked at Pougeot with an odd little smile. "You take it just as
I thought you would, just as I took it myself--until to-day. It seems like
a stupid blunder, doesn't it? Well, it wasn't a blunder; _it was a
necessary move in the game_." His face lighted with intense eagerness as he
waited for the effect of these words.

"The game? What game?" The commissary stared.

"A game involving a great crime."

"You are sure of that?"

"Perfectly sure."

"You have the facts of this crime?"

"No. It hasn't been committed yet."

"Not committed yet?" repeated the other, with a startled glance. "But you
know the plan? You have evidence?"

"I have what is perfectly clear evidence _to me_, so clear that I wonder I
never saw it before. Lucien, suppose you were a great criminal, I don't
mean the ordinary clever scoundrel who succeeds for a time and is finally
caught, but a _really great criminal_, the kind that appears once or twice,
in a century, a man with immense power and intelligence."

"Like Vautrin in Napoleon's day?"

"Vautrin was a brilliant adventurer; he made millions with his swindling
schemes, but he had no stability, no big purpose, and he finally came to
grief. There have been greater criminals than Vautrin, men whose crimes
have brought them _everything_--fortune, social position, political
supremacy--_and who have never been found out_."

"Do you really think so?"

Coquenil nodded. "There have been a few like that with master minds, a very
few; I have documents to prove it"--he pointed to his bookcases; "but we
haven't time for that. Come back to my question: Suppose _you_ were such a
criminal, and suppose there was one person in this city who was thwarting
your purposes, perhaps jeopardizing your safety. What would you naturally
do?"

"I'd try to get rid of him."

"Exactly." Coquenil paused, and then, leaning closer to his friend, he said
with extraordinary earnestness: "Lucien, for over two years _some one has
been trying to get rid of me!_"

"The devil!" started Pougeot. "How long have you known this?"

"Only to-day," frowned the detective. "I ought to have known it long ago."

"Hm! Aren't you building a good deal on that dream?"

"The dream? Heavens, man," snapped Coquenil, "I'm building _nothing_ on the
dream a