Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1909-12-27
: : b. CLEVELAND MOFFETT = : >

friends leave us. Of course I'm glae
for you; it's a great chance, but-wil
you take Caesar"
II couldn't leave my dog, could ~
smiled Coquenil.
"Of course not! OF course not! And
such a dogi You've been kind to lei
him guard the church since old Man
died. Come, Caesar. Just a moment,
NJ. Paul And with real emotion the
sacristan led the dog away, leaving the
detective all unconscious that he had
reached a critical in his des-
tiny.
How the course of events would have
been changed had Paul Coquenil re-
manned outside Notre-Dame on this oc-
casion it IS impossible to know; the fact
is he did not remain outside. but, grow
ing impatient at Bonneton's delay, he
pushed open the double swinging doors,
with their coverings of leather and red
velvet. and entered the sanctuary. And
Immediately he saw the girl.
She was in the shadows near a statue
of the Virgin before which candles were
burning. On the table were rosaries
and talismans and candles of different
lengths that it was evidently the girls
business to sell. In front of the Vir-
gins shrine was a prize dieu at which a
| woman was kneeling, but she presently
rose and went out, and the girl sat there
alone. She was looking down at a piece
of embroidery. and Coquenil noticed her
shapely white hands and the mass of
red and golden hair coiled above her
neck. When she lifted her eyes he saw
that they were dark and beautiful,
though tinged with sadness. He was
surprised TO find this lovely young
woman selling candles here in Notre-
Dame Church.
And suddenly he was more surprised,
for as the girl glanced up she met his
gaze fixed on her, and Immediately
there came into her face a look so
strange, so glad, and yet so frightened
that Coquenil went to her quickly with
reassuring smile. He was sure he had
never seen her before, yet he realized
that somehow she was equally sure
that she knew him.
What followed was seen by only one
person, that is, the sacristan's wife, a
big, hard-faced woman with a faint
mustache and a Wart on her chin, who
sat by the great column nea the door
dispensing holy water out of a cracked
saucer and whining for pennies. Moth
ing escaped the hawklike eyes of Mother
Bonneton, and ow, with growing Curl
osity, she watched the scene between
Coquenil and the candle seller. What
interest could a great detective have in
this girl, Alice, whom she and her hus-
band had taken in as a half-charity
boarder? Such airs as she gave her
self? What was she saying now? Why
should he look at her like that? The
baggage!
Holy saints, how she talks." grum-
bled the sacristan's wife. And see the
eyes she makes. And how he listensl
The man must be raz to waste his
time on heri Now he asks a question
and she talks again with that queer,
PARKWAY look. He frowns and clinches
his hands. and-upon my soul, he seems
afraid of heri He says something and
starts to come away. All, now he turns
and stares at her as if he had seen a
ghost! Mon Dieu, quelle folie!'
This whole incident occupied scarcely
five minutes, yet it wrought an extraor-
binary change in Coquenil. All his
puOg amy Nao 5O4Nf oAh ~ AV0hNN
worn, almost haggard, as he walked to
the church door with hard-shut teeth
and face set in an o-rinous frown.
There's some IL J work in this
he muttered, and a. MS eyes caught the
fires OF the lurid sky he thoughtof Papa
Tignol's words.
What is it, asked the sacristan,
approaching timidly.
The detective faced him sharply.
.'Who is the girl in there? Where did
she come from? How did she get here?
Why does she-' He stopped abrupt
", and, pressing the fingers Of his two
hands against his forehead. he stroked
the brows over his closed eyes as if he
were combing away error. mo. no."
he changed, don't tell me yet. I must
be alone; l must think. Come to me at
nine tonight"
'I-Tn try to come" said Bonneton,
with visions of an Directing wife.
"You must come" insisted the de-
tective. Remember, 9 O'clock" and he
started to go.
Yes, yes. quite So" murmured the
sacristan. following him. But, M.
Paul-er-which day do you sail?"
Coquenil turned and snapped out
angrily: Il may not sail at ALL"
But the-the position in Rio ia
neiro!"
"A thousand %thunders. Don't talk to
mel" cried the other, and there was
such black rage in his look that Benne-
ton covered away, clasping and un-
clasping his hands and murmuring
meekly: "Ah, yes. exactly"
SO much for the humble influence
that turned Paul Coquenil toward an
unbelievable decision and led him ul-
timately into the most desperate strug-
gle of his long and exciting career. A
day of sinister portent this must have
Notre Dame when another scene was
enacted there that should have beer
happy, but that, alas. showed only a
rough and devious way stretching be-
fore two lovers. And again it was the
girl who made trouble, this seller OF
candles, with her fine hands and her
hair and her wistful dark eyes. A
strange and pathetic figure she was,
sitting there alone in the somber
church. Quite alone now, for it was
closing time, Mother Bonneton had
shuffled off dramatically after a cut
ting word-she kenw better than to ask
what had happened-and the old sacris-
tan, lantern in hand and Caesar before
him, was making his round of the gal
%leries, securing doors and windows.
With a shiver of apprehension Alice