s with the northern half of Paris.

"It is a wild-looking night," said Mueller, as we drove under the
mountainous shadow of Notre Dame and came out again in sight of
the river.

"And it is a wild business to be out upon," I added. "I wonder if this
is the end of it?"

The words were scarcely past my lips when the door of the cab ahead flew
suddenly open, and a swift something, more like a shadow than a man,
darted across the moonlight, sprang upon the parapet of the bridge, and
disappeared!

In an instant we were all out--all rushing to and fro--all shouting--all
wild with surprise and confusion.

"One man to the Pont d'Arcole!" thundered the sergeant, running along
the perapet, revolver in hand. "One to the Quai Bourbon--one to the Pont
de la Cite! Watch up stream and down! The moment he shows his head above
water, fire!"

"But, in Heaven's name, how did he escape?" exclaimed Mueller.

"_Grand Dieu_! who can tell--unless he is the very devil?" cried the
sergeant, distractedly. "The handcuffs were on the floor, the door was
open, and he was gone in a breath! Hold! What's that?"

The soldier on the Pont de la Cite gave a shout and fired. There was a
splash--a plunge--a rush to the opposite parapet.

"There he goes!"

"Where?"

"He has dived again!"

"Look--look yonder--between the floating bath and the bank!"

The sergeant stood motionless, his revolver ready cocked--the water
swirled and eddied, eddied and parted--a dark dot rose for a second to
the surface!

Three shots fired at the same moment (one by the sergeant, two by the
soldiers) rang sharply through the air, and were echoed with startling
suddenness again and again from the buttressed walls of Notre Dame. Ere
the last echo had died away, or the last faint smoke-wreath had faded,
two boats were pulling to the spot, and all the quays were alive with a
fast-gathering crowd. The sergeant beckoned to the gendarme who had come
upon the box.

"Bid the boatmen drag the river just here between the two bridges," he
said, "and bring the body up to the Prefecture." Then, turning to Mueller
and myself, "I am sorry to trouble you again, Messieurs," he said, "but
I must ask you to come back once more to the Quai des Orfevres, to
depose to the facts which have just happened."

"But is the man shot, or has he escaped?" asked a breathless bystander.

"Both," said the sergeant, with a grim smile, replacing his revolver in
his belt. "He has escaped Toulon; b