chest of them. She was a widow with an enormous fortune
that her husband (a rapacious brute) had wrung from the toil of
thousands in torturing mines. Following his method, I disposed of
the woman, then of her daughter, and came into possession of the
fortune. It would have been a silly thing to leave such vast
potential power to a chit of a girl unable to use it or appreciate
it. I have used it as a master, as a man of brain, as a gentleman.
I have made myself a force throughout Europe, I have overthrown
ministries, averted wars, built up great industries, helped the
development of literature and art; in short, I have made amends for
the brutality and dishonesty of the lady's first husband. I believe
his name was Mike!

VIII

I am afraid of this girl's dreams! I can control her body, and when
she is awake, I can more or less control her mind. But I cannot
control her dreams. Sometimes, when I look into the depths of her
strange, beautiful eyes, it seems to me she knows things or half
knows them with some other self. I am afraid of her dreams!

Coquenil had reached this point in his reading and was pressing on through
the pages, utterly oblivious to everything, when a harsh voice broke in
upon him: "You seem to have an interesting book, my friend?"

Looking up with a start, M. Paul saw De Heidelmann-Bruck himself standing
in the open doorway. His hands were thrust carelessly in his coat pockets
and a mocking smile played about his lips, the smile that Coquenil had
learned to fear.

"It's more than interesting, it's marvelous, it's unbelievable," answered
the detective quietly. "Please shut that door. There's a draught coming
in."

As he spoke he sneezed twice and reached naturally toward his coat as if
for a handkerchief.

"No, no! None of that!" warned the other sharply. "Hands up!" And Coquenil
obeyed. "My pistol is on you in this side pocket. If you move, I'll shoot
through the cloth."

"That's a cowboy trick; you must have traveled in the Far West," said M.
Paul lightly.

"Stand over there!" came the order. "Face against the wall! Hands high! Now
keep still!"

Coquenil did as he was bidden. He stood against the wall while quick
fingers went through his clothes, he felt his pistol taken from him, then
something soft and wet pressed under his nostrils. He gasped and a
sweetish, sickening breath filled his lungs, he tried to struggle, but
iron arms held hi