New Britain herald., 1922-11-16
THE MAN WITH THE STEEL
 FINGERS

EtAsFsItH
 The great drawing room through which Monsieur Jonquelle advanced was empty. lt.
 But 1t was moi silent. A vague music like some weird conception Of Tschaikowsky. seemed to feel abont the room, extending itself--a thing that crept blindly ana disturbed az though 1t would escape from some thing that followed it tirelessly and invinibly. A
 It required the fingers of master, on the board of keyed instrument. to produce these sounds. They came from the room beyond, q second drawing room looking out on the Bois de Boulogne.
 Monsieur Jonouelle had not allowed the servant to announce him.
 ''One is not permitted 10 dusturb Lord Valleys at this hour" the serv- ant had said.
 Monsieur Jonquelle's card had added to the mans perplexity. One was also not permitted to deny an en- trance, anywhere. at any hour. to the Prefect of Police Of Paris. The man had made a hopeless gesture, like one resigning himself to the inevitable.
 Monsieur Jonquelle, after the door had closed behind him, remained for some moments quite motionless in the eddy, as one might write it, of this strange, weird music, in which there was always a note of ruthless vigor- 8 note of barbaric vigor, harsh and determined.
 Monsieur JonqueJle could not place the music in any fremembered com position. It was not the work of any master that he knew. It was an Improvisation of the fingers that produced it.
 Presently he advanced into the room from which the music issued. Hes paused a moment in the doorway, watching the figure with white, nimble fingers hard as steel. Then he spoke.
 Your pardon, monsieur said the Prefect of Police. 'I am desolated to disturb you"
 The man at the piano sprang up and turned swiftly as though his body accomplished the act with single motion.
 To the eye, the man was strange, His shoulders were very broad and stopped; his face was wide, massive the face of q Slav. His hair was thick, close and heavy. but it was not long. and affected no mannerisms.
 The man was very carefully dressed, after the English fashion, and with its well-bred restraint. But the inn pression he gave one was decidedly not English. It was that of Siav adapted to an English aspect
 The eyes one did not see. One rarely saw them. They seemed to be hidden by heavy lids. like cur expression in the face The face was a mask It seemed always in repose. The big nose, the square. brutal jaw. and the wide planes of the face, were white as with a sort of pallor Mon- sieur Jonquelae had sudden, swift impression. The man before him was either the greatest criminal or the greatest genius that he had ever seen. |
 Jonqueile had also a further im- pression of failure. He had meant to startle this man, and observe what followed. And he had startled him; but untrue to every experience, there was nothing to observe. The mans face remained withos,t an expression: he was behind it hidden from every eye It was u mask that could not be changed by the will of another. Monsieur Jonqiel'e wondered in what manner it would change at the will of the man that it so admirably ob- scured. It was a thing he was not interested to discover.
 It was only tor an instant that the man was without expression. Then he smiled and came forward into the room The smile began with a queer lifting Of the lip and extended vague : ly with but U slight changing of the mans features.
 His voice, when he spoke. was low, well modulated and composed His manner was easy and gracious.
 .'Aht" he said. "it is Monsieur Jonquelle. the prefect of Potee of Paris l am honored.'
 Monsieur jcnquellc removed his gloves; he sat a moment twisting, them in his fingers liaesone in u cor tain embarrassment His host, a'sc seated. regarded him with the aaue smile which appeared now a soit of background on the mask of his face. The Prefect of Police hesi <nfad