“Very well. I cannot blame you for that. Does the woman know that you are on her track? Does she suspect that you are searching out her record?” “She suspects; I do not think she knows.” “You are positive that she suspects?” “No; I am not positive; but I suppose she does suspect. I am morally certain of it.” “Carter, have you read that _dossier_ very carefully?” “Yes.” “Have you taken careful account of the number of fatalities to others that have followed in her wake wherever she has gone?” “Yes.” “Very well. There is one thing which is not written down in words upon that record, and it is to that I now call your attention.” “What is it, chief?” “I have said that we have never been able to prove anything against your Juno. The principle reason for that is that in every case where it has been supposed that she could no longer escape us, death by violence, self-inflicted, or otherwise, has removed the person, or persons, whose testimony might have convicted her. Does that statement convey an idea to you, Carter?” “Yes. You mean to tell me, in that roundabout fashion, that if Juno suspects that I am on her track my own life is in danger. Is that it?” “My dear fellow, I am speaking only in generalities; you may call it superstition if you like; but fatalities have pursued those who have been inimical to the peace and liberty of that woman. Whether it is the result of coincidence or of design, I am not prepared to say; but if I were on that woman’s trail and had unearthed anything which could be used against her, and knew that she suspected it, I would make my will and all arrangements for a sudden taking off, confidently expecting that death might overtake me at any moment.” “You would make Juno out a murderer, chief.” “I would make her out what she is called, a leopard, who destroys. Whether she strikes the necessary blows herself or has them delivered for her—who can say? If she plots the fatalities and arranges them—who can tell? If the fiend himself protects her and drives men mad and makes them kill themselves—who can determine? The facts remain. Those who are hostile to that woman die. There you are.” “I have lived rather a long time, chief, and I am not dead yet.” “No; but if that woman suspects that you are on her trail with any chance of doing her a permanent injury, I wouldn’t give a centime for your life; not one.” The detective shrugged his shoulders and smiled; but he made no further comment. Then the chief took the receiver from the telephone hook, in answer to a call that came in at that moment. CHAPTER XX. THE SIREN EXERTS HER SKILL. Had the detective known that Juno was in Paris at that moment he might possibly have paid more attention to the remarks of the chief of police. But he was soon to know it.