The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-04-06

phofograph-I mean the genuine one. It was hidden under a hinged support, and Groener must have overlooked 1t. That was his second great mistake. It read, 'To my dear husband, Raoul, from his devoted wife, Margaret, and her little Mary You notice it says her little Mary. That one word throws a flood of light on this case. The child was not his little Mary"
 q see, I see," reflected the old man. "And Alice? Does she know that that she isn't Alice?''
 'sNo".
 "see here,'' suddenly said Coquenil; |; swe've talked too nauch. You must hurry back to Alice. Better take an auto. And, remember, Papa Tignol," he added in final warning, Ethere is nothing so important as to guard this girl''
 A few moments later, with Caesar bounding happily at his side, M. Paul entered the quieter paths of the great park. With the dog at his heels M. Paul turned his steps toward beauti- full cool glade. Here he came into plain view of a company of ladies and gentlemen who, having witnessed the review, had chosen this delightful spot for luncheon. They were evidently rich and fashionable people, for they had come as coaching party on very smart break, with four beautiful horses, and some in flashing red and black automobile that was now drawn up beside the larger vehicle. Coque nils interest was heightened when he overheard a passing couple say that these were the guests of no less per ffa n nnIyc 0f MnnfPoT1iI whose lavish entertainments were the talk of Paris.
 So they went on together, master and dog. and were passing around on the far side of the coaching party when suddenly Caesar began to nose the ground excitedly. Then, running to his master, he stood with eager eyes, as if urging some pursuit.
 The detective observed the dog in surprise. Was this some foolish whim to follow a squirrel or a rabbit? It wasn't like Caesar.
 Come, come,'' he reasoned with friendly chiding; ''don't be baby"
 Caesar growled in vigorous protest and, darting away, began circ1ing the ground before him, back and forth, in widening curves, as Coqueni1 had taught him.
 M. Paul was puzzled. Evidently there was a scent here, but what scent? He had made no experiments with Caesar since the night of the crime, when the dog had taken the scent of the pistol and found the alley way footprints. But that was ten days ago. The dog could not still be on that same scent. Impossible. Then, deciding quickly, he gave the word, 'Cherchev'
 On through the woods went Caesar. nose down, tail rigid, following the scent, moving carefully among the trees and once or twice losing the trail, but quickly finding it again, and presently, as he reached more open ground, running ahead swiftly, straight toward the coaching party. Coquenil realized the danger and called loudly to the dog, but his voice was drowned by the cries of ladies on the break, who, seeing the bounding animal, screamed their fright. The dog was flying full at the break, eyes fixed, body tense, and now. with a splendid effort. he was actually hurling him. self through the air when among the confused figures on the coach a man leaned forward suddenly. There was a sharp report, and then Coquenil saw Caesar fall back to the ground.
 '@A1y dog, my dogr' he cried, coming up to the stricken creature.
 One glance showed there was noth- ing to be done The bullet had crash ed into the broad breast in front of the left shoulder, and-it was all over with Caesar.
 ''You cowardsr' flung out the heart sick man. You have killed my dog!"
 Then some one on the break said, 'fWe had better move along, hadn't we, Raoul?''
 'FYes," agreed another. 'tWhat a beastly bore!''