“My father went to Paris on a secret mission in which there was almost no hope of success; a secret mission in which his life was at stake from the moment he departed from St. Petersburg. The display of the jewels was a necessary part of his enterprise. The possession of a great sum of money, and the lavish expenditure of that money, was another necessary part of it. The woman known as ‘The Leopard,’ was supposed at that time to be also in the service of Russia, but it has been thought—not determined, mind you, but only suspected—since then, that she was all the while in the actual service of another government. It was because she was ostensibly in the service of Russia, that she was seen so much with my father. That was another definite part of the enterprise.” “I understand.” “My own opinion—and it is only an opinion, not knowledge—is that she was all the time working against my father in Paris. If she did not actually murder him, she was nevertheless the direct cause of his death. Well, sir, now I come to the point toward which this conversation has tended.” “Yes?” “That woman—‘The Leopard’—is now in the city of Washington. She lives there openly, supposedly the possessor of a large fortune. She occupies a large house in one of the fashionable streets of the capital where she entertains lavishly. She is a woman of most remarkable beauty and attractiveness. She is a creature of many fascinations. All who go near her fall under the spell she casts about her.” “You surprise me, colonel,” said the detective. And indeed it was so. Nick Carter was surprised that Juno had ventured to return to the United States so soon. “But assuredly she does not call herself ‘The Leopard,’ in Washington society, does she?” “No, indeed. She is now the Countess Juno Narnine—Countess Narnine—and Narnine happens to be the name of one of the branches of my own family. I can positively assure you that she is in no manner related to them, notwithstanding the fact that this woman has succeeded in establishing herself beyond question; and supplied credentials which cannot be denied. Now, sir, I will get down to the purpose of my visit here.” “Wait a moment. Why have you chosen to tell me about this countess? We will call her so, since she has succeeded in establishing her right to use the name.” “Because she has something to do with the purpose of my call upon you—I think.” “Oh. You think so. You are not sure of it, then?” “Nobody has ever been sure of anything connected with that woman, sir.” “I see. You regard her much as the chief over in Paris did.”