Before either Hal or Chester could reply Jean stepped forward.
"Of course they are with us," he said, thrusting his face close to that of the lads' questioner.
Calmly the man extended one hand, placed it squarely over Jean's face and shoved him violently backward.
"This," he said quietly, "is none of your business. So keep out."
The little man uttered a cry of rage and made as if to draw a knife; but, apparently thinking better of it, returned to his chair and subsided.
The man turned to Hal.
"Are you with us?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Hal.
"And you?" turning to Chester.
"Yes."
There came a commanding knock on the door. Georges sprang forward and flung it wide, and there strode into the room a tall, slender man, in evening dress, shining top hat and white kid gloves. A black mask covered his face.
"Pierre Duval," whispered Hal to Chester, "the King of the Apaches!"
Immediately all in the room rose to their feet, Hal and Chester doing likewise. Duval strode straight to the table in the center of the room without so much as a glance about, and sat down at its head. Then the others resumed their seats.
Duval turned to Georges.
"Are we all here?" he demanded, in a low, soft voice.
"Yes, sir," replied Georges, "and two besides."
"Bring the strangers before me," ordered the chief.
At a sign from Georges, Hal and Chester advanced and stood before the Apache king. The latter surveyed them long and carefully through his mask.
"Names?" he asked briefly.
The lads gave their assumed ones.
"You know what we are here for?" was the next question.
The lads signified that they did.
"And you are with us?"
"Yes," both replied.
"Bien! Back to your places."
The lads retired.
Now Duval rose and addressed the others.
"Since our last meeting it has been decided not to kidnap the President," he said slowly.
Exclamations of disappointment escaped the men sitting about.
"But," continued Duval, "there nevertheless will be work for some of us that will mean additional gold for all."
Cries of satisfaction greeted this statement.
"It has been decided," Duval went on, emphasizing each word, "that the President must be put out of the way. Are there any present who object to this?"
He swept the room with his gaze.
Hal and Chester, although taken somewhat aback by this cold-blooded statement, manifested no surprise. Neither was there a word from any of the assemblage, and Duval continued again:
"Now, for the honor of accomplishing this work you shall draw lots."
From his pocket he produced a small box.
"In here," he said calmly, "are enough balls so that each may have one. With the exception of two, all are black. The first man to select a red ball—his shall be the fortune to do the work; and to him goes an extra gold piece.
"That there may be no treachery, the man who picks the second red ball shall follow the first; and, in the event that he shows signs of a soft heart, or manifests a desire to give a warning, the second man shall kill him. Is that plain to you?"
Cries of "yes, yes" filled the room.
"All right, then," said Duval. "We shall now proceed with the drawing."
He opened one side of the box, and motioned for the first man to approach. The latter did so, drew forth a ball and exposed it to view. It was black, and the man passed on.
Man after man drew and each pulled forth a black ball. Now it cameChester's turn, and so far neither red ball had been drawn.
Slowly the lad approached with his heart in his mouth. To himself he muttered:
"I'll draw a red one just as sure as I stand here. I can feel it!"
For a moment he hesitated, and Duval's keen eyes caught the sign of indecision. He half rose to his feet.
"We want no chicken-hearts," he said. "However, draw or not, as you choose."
Chester caught the cold menace in the tone, and he realized that should he fail to draw, knowing what he did of the plot, he would never leave the room alive.
He thrust his hand into the box, clutched an elusive ball and drew it forth. He looked at it quickly and held it aloft.
The ball was red!
Immediately the men crowded about him and slapped him on the back.
"You are a lucky dog," exclaimed Jean; "an extra gold piece you'll get."
Chester had been so sure that he would draw one of the red balls that he felt no surprise. Hal, however, was greatly agitated, and he concealed his anxiety with an effort, as, being next in line, he also advanced to draw.
"If I can get the other red one," he said to himself, "it may work out all right."
The same thought had struck Chester, and he leaned forward anxiously. Hal thrust his hand into the box, then drew it forth again; and the ball that he held up was black.
The lad heaved a sigh of disappointment as he returned to his place.
"Never mind," said Chester, "it will come out all right."
Next to the last man to draw was Jean Garnier. He thrust his hand quickly into the box and pulled forth the second red ball. He was so elated that he cried out with joy. Then he ran to Chester and slapped him on the back.
"Perhaps," said he, "we can work this together and share equally in the prize."
Before Chester could reply, Duval rose once more to his feet and ordered that all leave the room except those who held the red balls. Slowly the men filed out, Hal being among the last to go. Outside the lad walked some distance from the house, then, when he felt certain that the others had disappeared, returned, and concealed himself in a dark alleyway across the street, where he waited patiently for Chester to emerge.
As soon as the others had left the room, Duval called Chester and Jean to him, and spoke in a low voice.
"This work must not be bungled," he said sternly. Then, to Jean, "and you are to see that it is not bungled. If this Victor makes one false move, you know what to do?"
Jean nodded his head in the affirmative.
"But," he added, "Victor will make no false move."
"I feel sure of that," replied Duval, "or I should not allow him to leave here alive."
Then he addressed Chester.
"The President," he said, "will make an address from the steps of the Palace to-morrow at noon. I shall expect you to be in the crowd. When the proper moment comes, you will know what to do. Jean will be there to see you do it, and I myself shall be on hand to see that you both obey. Am I understood?"
"Yes," said Chester.
Jean likewise nodded affirmatively.
"All right, then. Are you armed?"
Jean shook his head negatively, and so did Chester, in spite of the fact that he had two automatics concealed in his clothes, for he did not think it wise to betray this to Duval.
From his pockets the Apache chief produced a pair of automatics, one of which he handed to each. Then he dismissed them with a flourish of his hand.
Jean led the way along the dark passageway and into the street. Hal, from his place of concealment, saw them emerge and followed them. A short distance from the den he came up with them. Jean, as well as Chester, was delighted to see him.
"Why," said Jean, "can't we all work together and make sure that the plot does not fail?"
"An excellent idea," said Chester.
He spoke to Hal in a whisper: "Watch the house and follow Duval when he comes out."
Hal, accordingly, did not fall in with Jean's plan.
"I am glad to be out of it," he said. "It's too dangerous to suit me. No, Victor, there, is different. He likes the spice of danger, and so may you. But I prefer to get my gold easier, in the streets."
Jean shrugged his shoulders in contempt.
"I thought you were a brave man," he said. "Come on, Victor; we have no time for cowards."
He took Chester by the arm and the two walked off down the street, while Hal again concealed himself in the dark alley opposite the Apaches' den, where he waited for Duval to emerge.
His patience was soon rewarded. A dim figure appeared in the doorway and peered cautiously about. Then it slipped quietly to the street and strode rapidly away in the darkness. Hal slipped from his concealment and, keeping a respectable distance behind, set out in pursuit. For several blocks Duval continued slowly; then stopped suddenly at a corner. Hal immediately slunk from sight into the shelter of a doorway.
Duval raised a hand, and a moment later a taxi dashed up and stopped before him. Duval climbed in and the taxi moved away.
Hal, however, was not to be shaken off thus easily. Running forward quickly he succeeded in catching hold of the taxi and pulling himself up behind. In this way he rode for perhaps half an hour.
Abruptly the machine came to a halt and Hal quickly jumped to the ground and into a doorway, where he peered forth in time to see Duval alight.
The man was now without a mask, and Hal perceived the clear countenance of a Frenchman of the upper class, whose age must have been somewhere in the thirties. He strode rapidly down the street, and, turning a corner, mounted the steps of a handsome residence just beyond. Hal came around the corner just in time to see his quarry enter the door.
The lad took the number of the house and also the name of the street.These he impressed firmly upon his memory by repeating them over andover. Then he quietly ascended the steps of the house and tried the door.It was locked.
The lad descended the steps again and walked round the house, seeking some other means of entrance. In the narrow areaway he saw a small window, apparently opening into the cellar. He tried it. It was unlocked and gave easily before the pressure of his hand.
Hal lay flat upon the ground and pushed his feet through the opening. Then, slowly, he let his body through until he hung by his hands. He did not know how far his feet might be from the floor, but it was no time to hesitate. He released his hold and dropped.
There came a crash so loud it might have raised the dead.
Chester was confident that Hal could take care of his end of the affair, and he therefore allowed Jean to lead him along without protest. Jean became talkative as they walked along the dark streets.
"It should be easy," he said with enthusiasm. "All we have to do is to get close to the President in the crowd. Can you shoot?"
"A little," replied Chester briefly.
"I'm not a bad shot, either," said Jean. "So, if you should miss with your first shot, I'll turn loose myself. That will insure success."
"I have been thinking," said Chester, "how it would feel to be shot, and of what is likely to happen to us after we fire. What will the crowd do to us?"
"Oh, we'll get away, all right," said Jean.
"We'll never get away," said Chester solemnly. "We shall be torn to pieces before we can move a foot."
"I hadn't stopped to think of that," said Jean slowly.
"No, I suppose not," replied Chester. "Nevertheless, that is what is bound to happen. And they won't kill us on the spot, either. They'll put us to death slowly, by torture."
The lad looked sharply at his companion. Plainly this was an aspect of the case which had not occurred to Jean. He shuddered.
"Do you realize what we are about to do?" Chester went on. "We are going to shoot down, in cold blood, the President of France; the President of our own country. The crowd will go wild. We shall be torn limb from limb."
"Stop it! Stop it!" cried Jean. "Would you have me lose my nerve?"
"And besides," continued Chester, "what has the President done to us that we should seek his life?"
"But," said Jean, "we shall have gold."
"And what good will gold do us after we are dead?"
"True," said Jean. "It won't do us much good, will it?"
"It won't do us any good," said Chester.
"But," said Jean, "Duval must have thought of all that. He—"
"Duval knows as well as you or I what will happen to us should we assassinate the President," said Chester. "He will have that much more gold for himself."
"Still, we may manage to escape," said Jean hopefully.
"And if we do," said Chester sternly, "what then? Do you suppose Duval will keep faith with us? There will be such a hue and cry as Paris never heard before. Duval will turn us over to the authorities to save his own skin."
"If I thought that," said Jean, "I—"
"Besides," interrupted Chester, "we shall only be aiding the Germans, and not ourselves, and how long do you suppose the Apaches will be allowed to live should the Germans invade Paris?"
"Why—" began Jean, but Chester interrupted again.
"One of their first steps would be to annihilate us," said Chester. "They would ravage the city, tear it into little pieces. Remember, it is our own home, yours and mine. Would you like to see that?"
"No," replied Jean, "but—"
"No matter how you look at it," continued Chester, "you and I are sure to get the worst of it. Now, I don't know about you; but I am going to have nothing to do with the plot."
Jean did not reply for some moments, and they walked along in silence for several blocks. Finally the little man replied:
"But I have been ordered to shoot you if you fail to carry out your end of the work."
"In which event," replied Chester calmly, "you would also have to assassinate the President, and would yourself be killed."
"Then what am I to do?" cried Jean, now greatly alarmed.
"Follow my example, and have no hand in the matter," said Chester.
"It might be done," said Jean slowly, "for Duval himself will be present to-morrow, and, when he sees we have failed, he will do the deed himself."
"Then we must prevent that also."
"What! Why?"
"Because, should the President fall before any hand—yours, mine, Duval's or another's—we should still meet the same fate; for the city would be dragged by the troops and police and not an Apache left alive. No, the President must be warned."
"But that is treachery!" cried the little man.
"Is it treachery to save the President of your country from the hands of an assassin?" demanded Chester, and answered his own question: "No!"
The two paused on a street corner, and there, for perhaps ten minutes, Jean stood wrapped in thought. Finally he spoke, and there was a different tone in his voice.
"I believe," he said quietly, "that we have both learned a lesson. There must be in us, after all, a spark of loyalty. No! We cannot assassinate the President, nor can we stand idly by while he is shot down. He must be warned."
Chester grasped the little Apache by the hand.
"I knew I could make you see it that way!" he exclaimed. "Good! Now, come with me, and we shall give the warning at once."
"Where to?" demanded Jean.
Chester looked at him carefully a single moment, and a doubt of the man's sincerity came to him. Therefore he replied cautiously:
"Never mind. Just follow me; and if you mean what you say, warning shall be given at once."
For a moment Jean hesitated, then followed Chester down the street.
Chester's sense of direction now stood him in good stead. Not once in all his wandering about had he lost a general idea of where lay the Hotel de Ville, and he now steered a course in that direction. He finally came into view of the building, and here Jean hung back.
"What's the matter?" demanded Chester, as the little man stopped.
"We can't go in there," was the reply. "They won't let us speak. We'll be thrown into jail and kept there."
"Oh, no, we won't," said Chester. "Leave it to me. Come on."
A sudden suspicion struck Jean.
"Tell me," he cried, and grasped the lad fiercely by the arm, "are you a detective?"
"No," replied Chester calmly. "What made you think that?"
"I don't know," was the reply, "but the suspicion came to me and I could not down it. I will have nothing to do with a detective."
"Well," said Chester, "I am no detective; but"—he paused and laid his hand on Jean's arm—"I am a French army officer!"
"A spy!" cried Jean, and freed his arm.
"A spy, if you choose to call me one," said Chester, "but still your friend, for I believe you have come to your senses."
"I know," cried Jean, "you want to get me locked up!"
He stepped quickly backward, turned, took to his heels and ran.
Chester was after him like a flash, and as he ran he muttered to himself:
"Great Scott! I can't let him get away. He is sure to believe he has been imposed upon, and undoubtedly will warn the others!"
The little Apache was fleet of foot, but still not so fleet as was Chester. Within the block the lad overtook the fugitive and his hand grasped the other by the collar.
"Now," he said quietly, "you shall come with me, whether you will or not.I mean you no harm, and, if you do as I say, you will be all right."
Jean was not convinced, however, and continued his desperate struggles to free himself. But Chester was too strong for him, and with some difficulty he succeeded in dragging the little man back to the Hotel de Ville, and inside, where both were seized by half a dozen French troopers.
"Call General Gallieni at once," demanded Chester.
The officer in command laughed at him.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" he laughed. "Look who wants to see the general."
He motioned to two of his men, who started to drag the prisoners toward an open door, beyond which, as Chester surmised, lay cells.
Chester shook himself free with a single movement and turned upon theFrench captain.
"I am an army officer," he said quietly, "and am engaged in a piece of work at General Gallieni's own suggestion. You will summon him immediately."
The French officer was somewhat surprised at this, but he was not quite convinced.
"How am I to know that you speak the truth?" he asked skeptically.
"Because I say so," replied Chester quietly, taking a step forward.
The French officer also advanced a step.
"It is my belief that you seek the general for some ulterior purpose," he said with a sneer, and, before Chester realized what he was about to do, the officer raised his hand and slapped him soundly across the face. "Take them away," he ordered his men.
The blow in the face stung Chester to action.
With a quick spring he avoided the soldiers who would have seized him and leaped upon the French officer, whom he sent to the floor with a single blow of his fist. The officer rose slowly to his feet, drawing his revolver as he did so.
"You dog!" he cried, and raised his weapon.
But he did not fire, for at that moment there came from directly behind him the command in a ringing voice:
"Put down that weapon! What's the meaning of this?"
General Gallieni stood in the doorway. The officer turned and saluted.
"These dogs," he said, indicating Chester and Jean, who were now held by the soldiers, "insulted me. I refused to allow them to see you, and one of them struck me. I believe they came to assassinate you."
The general took a step back, for he had not recognized Chester.
"To assassinate me?" he exclaimed.
"You are wrong, General," said Chester quietly, "I have returned with information that will prevent the assassination of the President."
"Lieutenant Crawford!" ejaculated the general. "The President is to be assassinated, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"When?"
"At noon to-morrow, when he speaks on the Palace steps."
"And perhaps you know who has been selected to kill him?"
"Yes, sir; I do," replied Chester quietly. "I have, sir!"
General Gallieni started back in great surprise.
"You to be the assassin?" he exclaimed.
"Yes, sir," replied the lad, "I was fortunate enough to draw the red ball in the den of the Apaches, sir."
The general advanced and took him by the arm.
"Come with me," he said, and led the way toward his private office.
Chester motioned for Jean to follow, and the little man did so, though plainly not without some trepidation.
"Who is that?" asked General Gallieni, pointing to Jean.
"He is the man who is to shoot me in case I fail to shoot the President," said Chester cheerfully.
"Hadn't we better have him thrown into a cell?"
"No, sir. We have agreed that it is not right to shoot the President, and I am sure that we can count on his help should we need it. It is likely to be valuable."
"Well," said the general, sinking into a chair and motioning the others to seats, "tell me all about it; and where, by the way, is your friend?"
"He is trailing Duval, sir."
"Good! Now, let's have the story."
Chester put the facts before the military governor as clearly and concisely as possible, and when he had concluded General Gallieni jumped to his feet.
"We must act at once!" he exclaimed, and pulled the telephone toward him.
"But not with too great haste, General," protested Chester, also rising."We must first decide upon a plan."
"What do you mean?" asked the general.
"Why," said Chester, "if we hope to capture Duval—who will be on hand to-morrow, and who is likely to shoot the President himself—we must figure out the best means of doing so."
"I shall have the President cancel his engagement."
"That," said Chester, "might only delay the assassination."
"What would you suggest?"
Chester was silent for some minutes before he replied:
"If the President doesn't make his address to-morrow, his life probably will be attempted the next day or the next. If he does speak, Duval is sure to be on hand. Jean and I must be in the crowd, so that Duval may see us; for, if we are not there, Duval may suspect treachery and shoot the President himself.
"Seeing us there, however, Duval will take no action himself. As the President's speech progresses, Duval will be waiting for me to fire. He will be continually thinking that I will do so in another moment.
"Now, I should say that this is the best way: Let the President cut his speech short, say to three minutes. The moment he ceases speaking, rush a heavy guard between him and the crowd and have him stoop immediately behind them. Realizing that the plot has failed, Duval may not fire; but, in the event that he does, we shall probably be able to spot him and get him before he can escape."
General Gallieni spent some minutes considering the feasibility of this plan. Finally he said:
"If we only knew Duval by sight, we could avoid all this by seizing him there before the Palace."
"The trouble is we don't," replied Chester dryly.
General Gallieni turned to Jean.
"Do you know Duval by sight?" he asked.
"I have never seen his face, sir," was the reply. "He has never appeared before us without his mask."
"Well, then," said General Gallieni, "we shall have to do the best we can. Now, you two go into the next room and get some sleep. I'll get the Prime Minister and explain the matter to him and to the President, that we may all act in accord."
Chester saluted the general, and, followed by Jean, made his way into the adjoining room, while the general proceeded to get busy on the telephone.
Chester turned to Jean and clapped him heartily on the back.
"Isn't this better than attempting to assassinate the President?" he asked.
Jean smiled back at him.
"It is," he said quietly. "And you may count upon me to the limit."
"Good!" exclaimed Chester. "I knew it."
He threw himself upon a little cot and was soon fast asleep. Jean followed his example.
Daylight was streaming into the room through the large French windows when Chester was aroused by a hand on his arm. The lad was upon his feet in an instant and faced General Gallieni. Immediately he turned and aroused Jean, who was still sleeping heavily.
"All is in readiness," said General Gallieni. "The President and the Prime Minister have been apprised of the plan, and it is to be acted upon as you suggested."
Chester produced his watch and glanced at it.
"Half-past ten," he said. He turned to the general. "Have you had any word from Hal?"
"Who?"
"Hal—Lieutenant Paine."
"No."
"By Jove!" said Chester. "I hope he hasn't gotten into any trouble."
Eleven o'clock came, and still no word from Hal.
At 11:15 Chester and Jean left the Hotel de Ville and made their way toward the Palace. A great crowd had already assembled when they arrived, and they had some difficulty in pushing their way through, so that they might get as close as possible to the spot where the President was to stand while delivering his address.
By the dint of hard shoving and pushing, and the use of their elbows, however, they were finally successful, and came to a pause near the foot of the steps, in the very first line of spectators. Beyond was drawn up an armed guard of perhaps a hundred soldiers. No one could approach closer.
Chester turned and surveyed the crowd. He thought it possible that Hal might be there some place, but, scan the faces as he would, he could see no sign of his chum.
The crowd was good-natured, and the people jostled and pushed and shoved each other jokingly.
Chester scanned the crowd once more, seeking to determine the figure of Duval, the Apache chief. Several times he thought he recognized the man by his peculiar build, but in each case he soon found another that looked just the same in the crowd.
Jean also, at Chester's request, had put his keen eyes to the test; but he was no more fortunate. However, both realized that, some place in that crowd Duval had his eyes on them.
In the distance came the faint sound of a bell, as a clock chimed the first stroke of the hour of noon; and, with the last stroke, the President of France appeared upon the steps of the palace.
A great roar of applause went up from the crowd and continued for fully five minutes; nor did it cease at once as the President advanced to the very edge of the uppermost step and raised a hand for silence.
Then, gradually, the sounds of tumult died down, and President Poincaré opened his mouth and began to speak.
One, two, three minutes the President spoke, while all about reigned the silence of death; then, suddenly, at the expiration of the third minute, he stepped back suddenly, while at the same moment a long line of French soldiers stepped into place in front of him.
From the edge of the crowd, at the side nearest Chester and Jean, the stillness was suddenly shattered by the sharp crack of an automatic, and a soldier who stood before the President of France toppled in his tracks. Another stepped into his place, and the President was safe.
But, with the crack of the revolver the great crowd became a wild, howling mob. Shrieks, screams and cries of anger filled the air, and as a single man the crowd swooped upon the spot where a tall man with a smoking revolver in his hand was attempting to make his escape.
Chester, who had been prepared for the shot, sprang forward upon the instant, with Jean but a step behind him. Through the crowd they were forced to fight their way, but eventually they came to the edge of it, only to find that Duval, for such they were sure the would-be assassin was, had fought his way out and fled.
But, as the Apache chief ran, the crowd dashed after him. Chester now had his school days to thank for the fact that he was more fleet of foot than the others of the crowd. He passed them rapidly, as he ran after the flying figure of Duval, now at least 200 yards ahead of him down the street.
The lad raised his revolver as he ran and fired. But Duval did not halt.Chester had missed.
With the howling pack at his heels, and Chester gradually closing up the gap between them, Duval exerted himself to the utmost. Suddenly he turned into a narrow alley, where he halted. Chester, who was nearer than any of the others, dashed into the alley without slackening his speed, and, as he did so, Duval struck him a heavy blow in the face with the butt of his revolver.
Immediately he turned and dashed forward again.
Chester was not knocked unconscious by the force of the blow, but he reeled and fell to the ground. He was up in a moment, however, and with blood streaming from an ugly gash in his head, dashed after the fugitive once more.
Gradually Duval and his pursuer outdistanced the rest of the crowd. Chester was near enough not to be thrown off the track, as Duval rounded corner after corner; and, try as he would to shake off his pursuer, Duval was unable to do so.
At the next corner Duval darted into a little store, and out the other side, upsetting a group of men as he did so. Chester dashed in after him.
But here he encountered an obstacle. The group of men upset by Duval rose to their feet, very angry. At the sight of a second running man, not realizing the seriousness of the chase, they lined up and stopped the lad's progress.
Realizing it was no time for talk, Chester struck out right and left, and men dropped. But the rest closed in, and Chester went down. A heavy wrench was raised over his head and would have fallen on it.
But a newcomer caught the upraised arm. Chester looked up. It was Hal.
Hal was unable to tell just what caused the great crash as, after releasing his hold on the window in the cellar of the house to which he had followed Duval he went down into space. His feet struck a projection of some kind, and the crash followed.
The lad struck the floor in a heap. Although he felt sure that the crash must have aroused everyone in the house, he lay perfectly still, listening. Above he could hear the sounds of footsteps, and directly a door, which he judged to be the door into the cellar from above, opened.
The head of Duval appeared in the doorway. In his hand he held a flashlight, and Hal could make him out plainly. A second face peered over his shoulder, and Hal recognized it instantly as that of the Apache's chief lieutenant, who had accosted them in the den.
"What was it?" asked the lieutenant.
"I don't see anything," was the reply.
At that moment a furry shape calmly ascended the stairs and stopped atDuval's feet. It was a black cat, which stopped to lick his right paw.Duval stooped down and examined him. Then he arose with a laugh.
"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. "It was the cat. He must have upset the jars of jelly and preserves. See, he is covered with it."
"By Jove! This is luck," muttered Hal to himself. "The cat must have been sleeping among them when I knocked them down."
He made no move, and directly the two men and the cat disappeared and the door closed with a bang.
Hal waited a few minutes, and then arose slowly to his feet. While Duval had held the flashlight, the lad had taken in his surroundings, and now he cautiously approached where he knew the stairway to be. His outstretched hand touched the rail and his foot found the lowest step. He ascended silently.
The knob turned under his hand, and the door swung back without even a creak. Inside was perfect blackness.
Hal closed the door softly behind him and stole along what seemed to be a long hall. He went very slowly, and finally his outstretched hand touched an obstruction. He felt it over carefully, and his hand touched a knob. It was another door.
Hal placed his ear to the floor and listened. There was no sound from beyond. He arose and tried the knob. The door opened and the light flashed into the lad's eyes, almost blinding him.
He paused uncertainly, and then, not being accosted, stepped in and closed the door behind him. His eyes were used to the light by this time, and he looked quickly about him. He was in a bedroom.
The sound of voices came from the room beyond and approaching footsteps. The lad looked quickly about for a place of concealment, and the best that offered itself was the bed. Under this he dived swiftly and silently.
And none too soon. Duval and his lieutenant, followed by the black cat, came into the room, and sat down. Hal breathed silently.
"Well," said Duval, "everything is fixed. The money will be paid to us to-morrow night. Then we can take a ship for America, where we can enjoy the luxuries it will bring us."
"I'll be glad when it's all over," said his lieutenant. "This is ticklish business. You were lucky to get in with the Apaches."
"Rather," drawled his chief. "My height and general appearance, together with the fact that the former chief always wore a mask, have served us well. I wonder what the Apaches would do to us if they knew how I disposed of their real chief?"
His lieutenant laughed heartily.
"It would be no laughing matter if they were to find it out," said Duval.
"Perhaps not; still it is funny," was the reply.
The black cat jumped into Duval's lap, and he stroked it and talked to it. Then the animal began to claw at him.
"What's the matter, kitty?" asked Duval.
The animal cried and continued to claw at him.
"He wants to get down," said the other.
Duval released his hold on the cat, which immediately jumped to the floor and walked under the bed, to where Hal lay. The lad saw the animal coming, and reached out a friendly hand, thinking to keep it quiet.
But the cat's back bristled. Its tail grew to huge proportions, and it snarled and spat at him angrily.
"What do you suppose is the matter with the cat?" asked Duval.
"Sounds like he had found a dog under the bed," was the reply.
The hissing and snarling continued.
"Something wrong," said Duval. "Might as well have a look."
He dropped to his knees and peered under the bed, to where Hal was now defending himself against the attacks of the cat, which was striking at him with his sharp claws.
"See anything?" asked Duval's lieutenant.
"Man under the bed," replied Duval quietly. "Get out your gun and get on the other side of the bed."
His lieutenant obeyed with alacrity, and each, with a revolver in his hand, looked cautiously under the bed. Then Duval stretched forth a hand and, seizing the cat by the tail, dragged it forth. At the same time he called out:
"Come out from under there!"
Hal saw that resistance, between two fires as he was, would be useless.
"All right," he called back.
He crawled forth slowly, but before he emerged he drew his two revolvers from his pocket and dropped them beneath the bed. He was thoughtful enough to realize that, should he manage to regain his freedom, the guns under the bed would come in handy.
The lad got slowly to his feet and faced the two criminals.
Both started back in surprise at sight of his face. They recognized him immediately.
"Choteau!" cried Duval.
His lieutenant also exclaimed aloud.
"What are you doing here?" demanded the Apache chief sternly.
"I just wanted to see where you lived," replied Hal quietly.
"Why?"
"Well, there has been so much talk about you, your being a gentleman, and all that, that I wanted to satisfy my curiosity."
"Well, your curiosity is satisfied. What now?"
"Nothing," said Hal briefly.
"I suppose you know," said Duval, "that now you have seen me without my mask you will never leave this house alive."
"I suppose that is your idea," said Hal.
"You'll find that I have the right idea."
"Tell us your real object in coming here," said Duval's lieutenant.
"I have told you," replied Hal.
"That," said the lieutenant, "is a lie. It's too absurd. I guess I'll search you."
He proceeded to do so while Duval kept Hal covered. There was not much to be found—but one thing that Hal feared he would discover and which he realized he should have dropped with the revolvers under the bed.
His searcher found it, drew it forth, and, with an exclamation of triumph, held it up for Duval to see.
It was the police whistle General Gallieni had given him.
"So!" he exclaimed. "A police spy, eh! I thought so."
Hal shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, you have me," he said. "What are you going to do with me?"
The two men laughed.
"I guess you won't be as much surprised at what we are going to do as the manner in which we are going to do it," replied Duval, with an evil leer.
"How?" asked his lieutenant. "Water?"
"Right," was his chief's reply. He turned to Hal. "This house," he explained, "is on the very bank of the River Seine. Perhaps you have skirmished about in the rear?"
Hal shook his head negatively.
"Well, such is the case. In the cellar is a neat little room of four solid walls—no windows. There is a slight crack at the bottom, and through this, by a contrivance of my own, I can let in the waters of the river. The door is solid, and, once locked in, you cannot get out. I believe that this is a fitting death for a police spy. What do you think?"
Again Hal shrugged his shoulders.
"One way is as good as another," he said briefly. Duval turned to his companion with a laugh.
"Quite a brave man we have here, eh?"
"Quite," returned the other. "However, I guess he'll change his tune when the water gets up to his neck."
"Right you are," was the reply. "But what do you say? Shall he not sup with us first?"
"A good idea!" exclaimed his lieutenant.
Hal had been thinking rapidly. The men still held their revolvers in their hands, but they no longer covered him. Taking advantage of this fact, Hal suddenly dived under the bed and his two automatics were once more in his hand.
But the two men were after him in an instant. Before he could turn and bring his weapons to bear they had him covered, while Duval cried out:
"Come out from there, or I'll put a hole through you."
Hal realized that he could not hope to dispose of his two enemies, so quickly shoving the two revolvers into his clothes, he once more emerged and got to his feet.
"What are you, an ostrich?" demanded Duval, with a slight smile. "Think if you get your head out of sight you are safe?"
Hal made no reply, but he felt considerably more comfortable with his two automatics reposing safely at hand.
"Well, we might as well give the doomed a little bite to hold him up," said Duval, with a smirk. "You guard him now while I see what the pantry has to offer. Keep him covered with your gun, for he is desperate and may jump you."
"I'll guard him, all right," was the reply.
"Good! Of course, it is easy enough to shoot him, but I would rather have him swim a while first."
Duval returned a few moments later with sandwiches and milk, which he placed upon a table at one side of the room. He drew up three chairs and motioned the other two to seats. Then, with his revolver upon the table near him, he sat down himself.
"Don't stand on ceremony," he said to Hal. "This will be your last meal on earth, so you may as well make the most of it. Pitch in."
"Thanks," replied Hal, showing no sign of fear.
He picked up a sandwich and proceeded to eat it with apparent relish.
Light now filtered through a window at the far end of the room. Duval glanced at his watch.
"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea it was so late."
"What time is it?" asked Hal calmly.
"I can't see as it makes any difference to you," said Duval, with an evil leer. "You are not going any place. However, I'll tell you. It is now just ten minutes past eight."
Hal did not reply, and proceeded to finish his sandwich.
Finally, all the food having disappeared, Duval pushed back his chair and produced three cigars, one of which he offered to Hal and the other to his lieutenant.
"I don't smoke," said Hal; "thanks all the same."
"Suit yourself," replied Duval. "However, you may as well make yourself comfortable while we enjoy our cigars."
He puffed luxuriously, as did the other.
Hal also leaned back in his chair. He chafed under this restraint, but he realized that it would be foolish to make an effort to escape under the very mouths of his two captors' guns. Nevertheless, he was ready to take advantage of the first opportunity that should offer itself.
But none came.
Duval and his lieutenant, having disposed of their cigars, arose. The former, poking the muzzle of his revolver close to Hal's head, said sharply:
"Get up, now, and walk ahead of us. No tricks!"
Hal did as ordered, and, with the Apache chief's revolver prodding him in the back, left the room. At a command he went down the stairs to the basement.
"Turn to the right," instructed Duval.
Hal obeyed. At the far end of the cellar they came to a little room.Duval motioned Hal into it and followed himself, as did his lieutenant.The latter now kept Hal covered, while Duval tapped the walls with thebutt of his revolver.
"Perfectly solid, you see," he said to Hal.
"I see," replied Hal.
Duval struck the open door several resounding blows.
"Also perfectly solid," he remarked. "If you had a gun now you might possibly blow the lock off, but, as you haven't, you will be safe enough."
He turned to his aide.
"You are sure he was not armed?"
"Sure. I searched him carefully."
"All right. Then there is no need to search him again."
With his revolver he covered the lad while he backed from the little room.
"Good-by," he said, and jumping out quickly, slammed the door closed.
"Good-by," Hal called after him, without a tremor.
"When the water begins to rise," shouted Duval, through the door, "you may lose some of your nerve. I'd like to stay and hear you cry for mercy, but I have other work to do. However, my friend here will stay in the house, and I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't hear you upstairs."
To this Hal made no reply.
He now turned his attention to an examination of the room in which he was confined. The walls rose on all sides to a height of perhaps fifteen feet. This he had perceived while the door stood open, but inside now it was perfectly dark, except for a tiny stream of light that filtered in from below the walls, which failed to reach the floor by less than an inch.
The lad felt the walls carefully with his hands. They were perfectly smooth. He placed his fingers on the floor. It was dry.
He stood silent for some moments and then, becoming conscious of a strange sound, he again touched the floor with his fingers. They came away wet. Water was slowly trickling into the room.
The room was very small, and Hal realized that it would not take it long to fill. Therefore he decided on instant action.
When Duval, before leaving the lad to his fate, had mentioned revolvers, Hal had feared for the moment that he might be searched anew; but, when Duval had said a second search was not necessary, the lad breathed easier. His reference to blowing away the lock had not been lost on Hal, but the lad had already thought of that.
"Well," he said to himself, "the sooner I act the better. If Duval has left the house already I shall have but one to deal with. If I wait until I am sure he has gone, I shall probably be drowned. Here goes!"
Quickly he produced his pair of automatics, and, running his hand over the door, found the lock. He placed the muzzle of one automatic right up against it, and holding the other in his other hand, ready for instant use should he encounter a foe on the opposite side, fired.
In the narrow room the shot sounded like an explosion of a cannon, and the force of it shook the lad from head to toe. Smoke filled the little aperture, strangling him. He pressed his weight against the door. It did not yield. Something had gone wrong.
Again he placed his revolver against the lock, and fired quickly twice, and then hurled his weight against the door. It gave way before him, and the lad staggered from the smoke into the damp but fresher air of the open cellar.
There, inhaling great breaths of air the while, he listened for the sound of his enemies. Not a sound was to be heard. The lad reasoned this out for himself.
"The shots were probably muffled within," he said. "I doubt if they could have been heard very far. Now to get out!"
He made his way to the end of the cellar where he had entered in the night, and finally came upon the little window. Then he gave vent to an exclamation of dismay.
"Great Scott!" he cried. "I can't reach it!"
It was true. The window was so high above the ground that there was no way in which the lad could secure so much as a finger-hold. He looked around for some object upon which to stand, but he could find none.
"Well, I'll have to go out through the house," he told himself. "There is no help for it."
Slowly and silently he climbed the steps once more, and as silently opened the door. There was light in the hall, and the boy could make out which way to go. He turned toward the room in which he had been taken prisoner and entered softly.
There, stretched out on the bed, was the Apache chief's lieutenant. Duval himself was not to be seen.
Hal, with revolver ready, tiptoed into the room. He saw a revolver on the little table, and muttered to himself:
"Careless of him."
At that moment the man on the bed turned and slowly opened his eyes. A cry of terror escaped him, as his gaze rested upon Hal, whom he was morally certain was in a living tomb in the cellar.
"Ghost, go away!" he exclaimed.
Hal laughed loudly, and it was no ghost laugh, either. The man in the bed sat up.
"How did you get out of there?" he demanded, as if it were the most momentous question in the world.
"I blew the lock off the door," replied Hal calmly.
"But your gun? You had no gun."
"Oh, yes, I had," smiled Hal. "I had two of 'em, and I've got 'em yet. See?"
He pointed both straight at the head of his late captor.
"Now," he said quietly, "get up and get out of there."
"What are you going to do with me?" asked the man in alarm.
"Deliver you into the care of General Gallieni."
The Apache lieutenant slowly moved toward the edge of the bed and Hal lowered his weapons. This act almost proved the lad's undoing.
A second revolver suddenly flashed in the hand of the man in the bed, and he cried in a stern voice:
"Hands up!"
Hal, taken absolutely by surprise, could do nothing but obey.
"You see the tables are turned again," said the man in the bed pleasantly. "You should always remember that a man may keep one of his revolvers under his pillow."
Hal was crestfallen, and he showed it plainly. However, he still held his own weapons in his upraised hands, and he had no mind to release the weapons if there was any way in which he could avoid it.
"Put those guns on the table, and be quick about it," ordered his enemy and slipped from the bed to the floor.
Hal advanced slowly toward the table, and laid down the revolver he held in his right hand. The man in the bed took a step toward him. It was the moment for which the lad had been waiting and he acted instantly.
Slowly his weapon came down, and then it suddenly flashed in the Apache's face as the lad's hand pressed the trigger.
A miss was impossible. Hal had made up his mind that he would trifle with his opponent no longer. He realized fully that his own life depended upon his getting the upper hand and that it was no time to be squeamish.
Accordingly, when the opportunity presented itself, he fired pointblank in his opponent's face. The latter threw up his hands, gave out a single loud scream of pain, and toppled backward to the floor in a heap.
Hal bent over him. "Dead," he said simply. "Now to get out of this."
He left the house and made his way with all speed toward the Hotel de Ville. But he had not gone a block when he beheld, in a little store he was passing, a scene of confusion. The lad stopped and peered in. He made out Chester's figure and, instantly realizing his danger, dashed forward.
He arrived just in time to catch an uplifted arm that would have crushedChester's head with a heavy wrench.
"What's going on here?" cried Hal angrily, as he twisted sharply on the upraised arm.
The man who held the wrench writhed in pain beneath the lad's strong fingers and he dropped the wrench and turned on Hal angrily.
"What business is it of yours?" he demanded.
"I've made it my business," said Hal. "He is a friend of mine."
Unmindful of the threatening gestures of the others, he stooped and gently lifted Chester's head. The latter was not badly hurt, and he was soon upon his feet.
"Where did he go?" he cried excitedly.
"Where did who go?" asked Hal.
"Duval—the man I was chasing. He attempted to assassinate thePresident."
A cry of surprise went up from those surrounding the two lads, and they pressed forward with eager questions. No longer were they enemies of the two lads. Word that an attempt had been made on the life of the President caused them to forget other troubles.
"He went that way," said one of them, pointing.
"After him," cried another, and the crowd dashed forward. Others of the mob that had given chase arrived by this time and also continued the chase.
"There is no use running after him," said Hal, as Chester also would have continued the pursuit.
"But we must get him!"
"I have an idea that I shall be able to find him," said Hal quietly.
"You know where he is?"
"I think I know where he will seek refuge."
Quickly he related his experiences to Chester.
"Come on, then," cried the latter eagerly. "Let's get away before he gets back, finds his friend dead and leaves the house."
The lads hurried forward and, by going directly toward the house, arrived there before the first of the crowd came into view.
Even as Hal had expected, Duval, believing that he had eluded his pursuers, made a detour and entered his home from a side entrance. From an upper window, a few moments later, he saw the first of the crowd. They had no idea he was in the house and went dashing by. He did not see the forms of the two lads across the street.
"I guess I'm safe enough for a while," he said to himself.
He made his way toward the bedroom, where he surmised his lieutenant would be sleeping. He entered the room, took a single look and staggered back.
His eyes had fallen upon the inert body of his aide.
Quickly he bent over him and felt his pulse.
"Dead!" he exclaimed.
He stood silent, struck by a sudden thought. Quickly he descended the steps into the cellar and approached the room where Hal had been left to die. The door was open and water trickled from within.
Duval uttered no word but, turning quickly, dashed up the steps. Once more he looked from the window, and the first figures upon which his eyes rested were Hal and Chester.
The boys, in the meantime, had halted the mad crowd and briefly explained that the object of their search was in the house. They were engaged in this occupation when Duval peered from the window the second time.
The Apache chief smiled grimly to himself. He produced his automatic and aimed at the two lads. His finger tightened on the trigger.
"Crack!"
Hal's cap seemed to leap from his head, and instinctively all of the crowd ducked. Then, with a terrible roar, they charged straight at the house.
But Duval, standing in an upper window, emptied one automatic into the howling mob and then another.
The crowd drew back.
While all this was going on, Hal had led Chester to the window leading into the basement, and silently the lads lowered themselves through it. Then, as the mob raged without, they made their way up the steps, through the hall, and up a second flight.
There, at the head of the stairs, they paused. Before them were two rooms, and they were not certain in which the Apache chief had taken refuge.
"You take the one on the right, Chester," whispered Hal.
Chester nodded and they advanced, Chester toward the door on the right and Hal toward the one on the left. They opened the doors upon the same instant.
But Duval had heard sounds in the hall, and his quick wit had detected the ruse. Therefore, when the lads flung open the doors, there was no one to be seen in either room. They turned and stared at each other blankly, and as they did so a bullet whistled between them.
Duval, stepping from behind the door where he had been concealed, had opened fire on them.
"Down!" cried Chester, and dropped to the floor.
Hal followed suit.
Both raised their weapons, but Duval was not in sight, so they did not fire. Slowly they got to their feet again, and dashed into the room where they now knew the Apache chief to be.
Hal went first. As he cleared the doorway, he was met by Duval himself, who, with the butt of his revolver, dealt the lad a heavy blow on the head. Hal fell like a log.
But Chester had been right at Hal's heels and before Duval could raise his weapon to fire, or bring it down on the lad's head, Chester had clinched with him.
With his two arms beneath those of the Apache chief, Chester brought them up, and, reaching over his shoulder, clasped hands under Duval's chin.
But Duval was a powerful man, and broke this hold with ease, even as the lad exerted his utmost strength in an attempt to strangle his opponent.
Chester staggered back, but rushed into another clinch as Duval raised his revolver. Ducking, Chester drove his fist to his opponent's chin, even as the latter pressed the trigger. The bullet whistled harmlessly over his head.
With a quick, upward stroke of his left arm, Chester sent his enemy's revolver spinning through the air. Deprived of this weapon, Duval sought to bring his greater strength to bear and overpower the lad.
Chester realized that in strength he was no match for Duval, and knew that what he lacked in this respect he must make up in agility and cunning.
Therefore, he slipped from his opponent's grasp, and, sidestepping, struck Duval a stinging blow just above the right ear. Duval staggered back, then came forward with a cry of rage.
The Apache chief realized the need of haste, for he could already distinguish the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall below. He hoped, by freeing himself from Chester, who had now grappled with him again, that he could gain a moment's advantage, jump into the next room, dash through the hall and descend by the rear before the crowd came upon him.
Accordingly, he exerted himself to his utmost, and Chester gave ground. Then the lad stepped suddenly backward, and Duval staggered headlong. Before he could recover his balance, Chester, getting a good start, hurled himself forward as he had been wont to do on the football field—but not in a tackle—and Duval, unable to entirely recover himself, found himself being pushed rapidly across the room.
In vain did he strike out at the lad with his one free arm. His blows fell short. Chester, with lowered head, continued to push, and Duval was unable to check this impetus.
Straight back and back the Apache chief was forced. Then his legs came into contact with something that caused him to cry out in despair. This something was the edge of the low window, and Duval realized in an instant that he was on the threshold of death.