The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-03-23

that her son had bought for her. Paul 1 CoQuenil had never married. and his friends declared that, besides his work he loved only two things in the world 1 his mother and his dog. 1 At 8 o'clock the detective rose from ] the dinner table and withdrew into his study, large room opening off the 1 dining room and furnished like no ott- l CT study in the world. Around the ] walls were low bookcases with wide ] tops, on which were spread. under l glass. what Coqueni1 called his crim- l inal museum. This included souvenirs of cases on which he had been en- gagged, wonderful sets of burglars tools. weapons used by murderers- saws. picks, jointed jimmies of tenn pered steel. that could be taken apart and folded up in the space of thick cigar and hidden about the person. Melanie entered presently with cof- fee and cigarettes, which she placed on a table near the green shaded lamp. within easy reach of the great red leather chair where NJ. Paul was seated.
 Suddenly there came a clang at the ! iron gate in the garden and the sound of quick, crunching steps on the gravel
 
 Nj. Lucien Pougeot was one of the eighty police commissaries who. each in his own quarter, oversee the moral washing of Paris dirty linen. M. Pougeot was one of the most distin- guished and intelligent members of this interesting body. He was a de voted friend of Paul Coquenil.
 "Well,'' remarked the commissary when they were settled in their chairs, q suppose it's the Rio de Janeiro thing? Some parting instructions, eh?'' And he turned to light cigar.
 Coquenil shook his head. "When do you sail?'
 ''I'm not sailing"
 "What?'
 For once in his life NJ Pougeot was surprised. He knew all about this foreign offer. with it's extraordinary money advantages. He had retoicec in his friends good fortune after tive unhappy years, and now-now Coque- nil informed him calmly that he was not sailing.
 "I have just made a decision, the most important decision of my Iife,' continued the detective. "and I want you to know about it. You are the only person in the world who vii ; afternoon I went into Notre Dame church, I saw young girl there who sells candles. l didn't know her, but she looked up in a queer way, ak if she wanted to speak to me. So went to her, and-well. she told me of a dream she had last night
 "A dream?'' snorted the coumissary.
 ''So she said. She may have been lying, or she may have been put up to it. l know nothing about her, not even her name, but that's of noScon- sequence The point is that in this dream, as she called it, she brought together the two most important events in my life.''
 ''Hm. What was the dream?"
 ''She says she saw me twice-once in a forest near a wooden bridge, where a man with a beard was talk ing to a woman and little girl; then she saw me on a boat going to place where there were black people,"
 '"That was Brazil"
 'sI suppose so. And there was 8 burning sun with a wicked face in- side that kept looking down at me. She says she often dreams of this wicked face. She sees it first in dis tant star that comes nearer and near CT until it gets to be large and red and angry. AS the face comes closer her fear grows until she wakes with a start of terror. She says she would die of fright if the face ever reached her before she awoke. That's about all.''
 For some moments the commissary did not speak. Did she try to inter- pret this dream?''
 'No."
 GtTNhxJ ho folI al
 t'She acted on a sudden impulse. so she says I'm inclined to believe her. But never mind that. Pougeot'-he rose in agitation and stood leaning over his friend-''in that forest scene she brought up something that isn't known. something I've never even told you, my best friend.''
 ''Tiens. What is that?''
 ''You thilth I resigned from the po- lice force two years ago, don't you?'
 Of course.''
 Every one thinks so. We'll. it isn't true. 1 didn't resign. I was dis charged
 M. Pougeot stared in bewilderment as if words failed him, and finally he repeated weakly: Discharged! Paul Coquenil discharged!''
 Yes, sir, discharged from the Paris detective force for refusing to arrest a murderer. That's how the accusa- tiOn read.'
 But it wasn't true?"
 Judge for yourself. It was the case of a poacher who killed q guard. I don't suppose you remember it?
 Down near Saumur. wasn't it:''
 Exactly. And it was near Saumur I found him after searching all over France. We were clean off the track and I made up my mind the only way to get him was through his wife and child. They lived in little house in the Wooda not far from the place of