It was an hour later when Mouquin called again and notified the chief of the street and number to which Juno had betaken herself; and then he received his orders to bring her to the private office of the chief without delay. When another half hour had passed she was ushered into the room. Nick had felt no doubt that Juno was aware of his presence in Paris, but he did expect her to manifest some surprise at finding him in that office in consultation with the chief of the secret police. But, quite on the contrary, her eyes sought him at once after she had greeted the chief, and she turned to him with a smile and exclaimed, quite as if she had confidently expected to see him: “How do you do, Mr. Carter? We meet again, in a strange place, after our last interview; is it not so?” “I must confess that I did not expect to find Mrs. Dinwiddie in Paris so soon,” replied the detective, rising and stepping toward her. Then, addressing the chief, he added: “Chief, I wish to present you to madam by her true name; a name which I fancy you have not known—Mrs. Dinwiddie, of Virginia.” She laughed, and with a gayety which did not appear to be assumed. “I am a respectable married woman now, chief,” she said. “I am, indeed, Mrs. Ledger Dinwiddie, of Virginia, and if you are perhaps wondering why I am here, or in Paris at all, I will enlighten you without delay. Mr. Carter, as you doubtless know, is that famous detective whom all America praises. He is supposed to be exceptionally great in his class, and his profession has brought about a strange circumstance. “Notwithstanding the great ability of Mr. Carter, he has committed a grievous error. He has mistaken my husband for a man who was once a criminal, but who is now dead. The highest court in the State of New York has adjudged that criminal to be dead and accepted the proofs of identity offered by my husband. Yet Mr. Carter persists in asserting that Ledger Dinwiddie is that dead criminal. Remarkable, isn’t it?” The chief did not reply. He preferred not to commit himself. He waited; but, in the meantime, he devoured the beauty of the woman with his eyes. It was quite true that she had brought with her into that obscure office a radiance, a fascination, and an atmosphere of influence which affected every person there. It was not her beauty alone; it was a certain magnetism which seemed to shed energy around her like the particles that spring spontaneously from radium. As no one spoke, she continued: “Not long ago, Mr. Carter appeared, during an evening, at my home in Virginia. He did not say that he was a detective, then; and I did not suspect it till after he had gone away. I remembered that Mr. Carter possessed an international reputation, and thought it not unlikely that he knew something about me, as you have known me here. I followed him to New York when he returned there—and then I followed him here.”