“There is a large sum here,” he remarked.

“Fifty thousand francs.  It’s for you, and as much more will be handed you the day you sail for Brazil.  Just a moment—­let me finish.  This sum is a bonus in addition to the salary already fixed.  And, remember, you have a life position there with a brilliant chance of fame.  That is what you care about, I take it—­fame; it is for fame you want to follow up this crime.”

Coquenil snapped his fingers.  “I don’t care that for fame.  I’m going to work out this case for the sheer joy of doing it.”

“You will never work out this case!” The man spoke so sternly and with such a menacing ring in his voice that M. Paul felt a chill of apprehension.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because you will not be allowed to; it’s doubtful if you could work it out, but there’s a chance that you could and we don’t purpose to take that chance.  You’re a free agent, you can persist in this course, but if you do——­”

He paused as if to check too vehement an utterance, and M. Paul caught a threatening gleam in his eyes that he long remembered.

“Why?”

“If you do, you will be thwarted at every turn, you will be made to suffer in ways you do not dream of, through those who are dear to you, through your dog, through your mother——­”

“You dare—­” cried Coquenil.

“We dare anything,” flashed the stranger.  “I’m daring something now, am I not?  Don’t you suppose I know what you are thinking?  Well, I take the risk because—­because you are intelligent.”

There was something almost captivating in the very arrogance and recklessness of this audacious stranger.  Never in all his experience had Coquenil known a criminal or a person directly associated with crime, as this man must be, to boldly confront the powers of justice.  Undoubtedly, the fellow realized his danger, yet he deliberately faced it.  What plan could he have for getting away once his message was delivered?  It must be practically delivered already, there was nothing more to say, he had offered a bribe and made a threat.  A few words now for the answer, the refusal, the defiance, and—­then what?  Surely this brusque individual did not imagine that he, Coquenil, would be simple enough to let him go now that he had him in his power?  But wait!  Was that true, was this man in his power?

As if answering the thought, the stranger said:  “It is hopeless for you to struggle against our knowledge and our resources, quite hopeless.  We have, for example, the fullest information about you and your life down to the smallest detail.”

“Yes?” answered Coquenil, and a twinkle of humor shone in his eyes.  “What’s the name of my old servant?”

“Melanie.”

“What’s the name of the canary bird I gave her last week?”

“It isn’t a canary bird, it’s a bullfinch.  And its name is Pete.”