When the chief took down the telephone, Nick picked up a paper that was lying on the desk and was scanning the front page, when an ejaculation from his companion caused him to turn his head and regard the man attentively. “Very well,” he heard the chief say over the phone, in French, “let nothing throw you off the scent, Mouquin. Keep me informed. Let me know everything concerning her with the least possible delay. It is vitally important, just at this time.” He replaced the receiver on its hook and turned to Nick Carter. “My friend,” he said, “you will admit that perhaps I am not an unwise prophet. You are here in Paris on the trail of The Leopard; The Leopard is here in Paris on your trail. I am so informed by one of my best men, Mouquin by name. What will you?” “Do you mean to tell me that Juno is in Paris?” asked Nick, interested. “She has only just left the train at the _gare du nord_,” was the reply. “Are you sure that there can be no mistake, chief?” “Perfectly.” “And she has entered the city openly? Without any attempt at disguise?” “Yes. Why should she disguise herself? There is nothing for which we can apprehend the woman. She knows that every footstep she takes while she is here will be watched. She has known that for a long time. I think she rather likes it; so why should she not come here openly?” “What has brought her here, I wonder?” mused the detective. “You have brought her here, my friend,” replied the chief. “But, why should she follow me here? I know why she would like to have me out of the way—dead, if you will—but——” “Listen here, Mr. Carter. On the other side of the water, in your own country, you are something of a celebrity. Murder is as common there as here, but it is done differently, as a rule. Believe me, you are a dangerous man to that woman, and, being dangerous, she desires to overcome that danger. Very well; there is no place on earth where she would rather see you just now, than here in Paris. In coming here you have played directly into her hands.” “Well, admitting that it is so, what then?” “What then? He asks me, what then? Death, then, my friend!” “And you, the chief of the secret police of Paris, sit here, in your chair, in your own private office, and tell me that? And you still permit such a woman to run at large in the streets of your city!” Nick smiled when he made that remark; smiled tauntingly. The chief hunched his shoulders, spread out his hands, palms upward, screwed his face into an indescribable expression, and replied: “What can I do? What could you do, in my position? Nothing. Nothing at all.” “I could at least keep the woman under such close surveillance that she would not make a move that I did not know about. She would not——” “Ah! Ah! Ah! Well, I will do that. I have already given directions to that effect. But I have done it before, times without number—and it has always been the same.” “The same what? Do you mean that she gives you the slip?”