light upon the circumstances surrounding his death, are urgently requested to call at the office of the Evening Moon at any time after the appearance of this advertisement. Liberal rewards will be paid to all who give such information, and the best legal assistance is offered by the proprietors of this journal, entirely at their own expense, to all who may desire it and who are in any way interested in M. Felix's death.'
"Meanwhile, so far as the police were concerned, matters remained in abeyance. They seemed to do nothing, and certainly discovered nothing. One of our contemporaries, in a leading article, has suggested that the insertion of this advertisement in our columns was an attempt to tamper with justice, or, if not to tamper, to defeat its ends. We can afford to smile at such an insinuation. There was no case before the public courts, and no person was accused of anything whatever in connection with the strange affair. The action we took was taken in the cause of justice, to arouse it to action and assist it. In the lighted torch of publicity there is an irresistible moral force. It would be well if material light were thrown upon the black spaces in this mighty city-upon the black spaces in which crimes are committed, the perpetrators of which are enabled to escape because of the convenient darkness in which they carry their horrible plans to a successful issue. If old-time officialism refuses to stir out of the old routine of useless and pernicious methods, forces which are not amenable to red tapeism must take the reins, must take into their own hands the plain duties of lawful authority, duties which they neglect and evade to the injury of society at large. We do not preach socialism, we preach justice-and light.
"Thus far in our narrative we have brought matters up to the night of January 18th. The house in Gerard Street is dark and silent; the body of M. Felix is lying on the bed to which it was lifted from the arm-chair in which it was discovered.
"The night was unusually dark. The snow-storm had ceased on the previous day, and the reflected light of white thoroughfares no longer helped to dispel the pervading gloom.
"The morning newspapers of the 19th contained no items of particular interest in connection with the death of M. Felix. We were the first to announce an extraordinary and apparently inexplicable move in the mystery. In order to do this we published our first edition two hours earlier than usual.
"At nine o'clock on this morning one of our reporters, in the exercise of his duty, was outside the house in Gerard Street, looking up at the window of the sitting-room which M. Felix had occupied. He had exchanged a few words with a policeman in the street.
"'I am on the staff of the Evening Moon,' he said to the policeman. 'Is there anything new concerning M. Felix?'
"'Nothing,' replied the policeman, quite civilly, and passed on.
"Our reporter remained outside the house. Patient and persevering, he hoped to pick up some item of interest which he might be able to weave into a paragraph.
"Suddenly the street door was opened from within, and Mrs. Middlemore appeared. Her face was flushed, and in her eyes was a wandering look as she turned them this way and that. The moment our reporter observed these symptoms of distress he came to the conclusion that there was some interesting item of which he could avail himself. He stepped up to Mrs. Middlemore.
"'What is the matter?' he asked.
"'He's gone!' gasped Mrs. Middlemore, wringing her hands. 'He's vanished!'
"'Who has gone? Who has vanished?' inquired our reporter.
"'M. Felix,' said Mrs. Middlemore, in a faint tone.
"'My good creature,' said our reporter, 'you must be dreaming.'
"'I'm not dreaming,' said Mrs. Middlemore. 'He's vanished. If you don't believe me, go up and look for yourself. Where are the police. Oh, where are the police?'
"'Don't make a disturbance,' said our reporter, soothingly. 'Let us see if you're not mistaken.'
"Gladly availing himself of the invitation to go up and look for himself, our reporter entered the house, and ascended the stairs, followed by Mrs. Middlemore, moaning in a helpless, distracted fashion.
"The door of the sitting-room was open, and also the inner door, leading to the bedroom. There was no person, living or dead, in either of the rooms.
"'Where was he?' asked our reporter.
"'There, on the bed,' moaned Mrs. Middlemore. 'He was there last night before I locked the door; and when I looked in a minute ago he was gone.'
"It was undeniably true. The bed bore the impression of a human form, but that was all. The body of M. Felix had, indeed, disappeared!"
CHAPTER IX.
INTRODUCES SOPHY
"Our reporter gazed at the bed in astonishment, while Mrs. Middlemore continued to move her hands and eyes helplessly around, and moan for the police. Our reporter is a man of resource, quick-witted, ready-minded, and ever ready to take advantage of an opportunity. He took advantage of this.
"'My good creature,' he said, 'what is the use of crying for the police? Have they assisted you in any way in this mysterious affair?'
"'No, they 'aven't,' replied Mrs. Middlemore, adding inconsequentially, 'but where are they-Oh! where are they?'
"'What have they done already for you?' continued our reporter. 'Brought you into trouble with the newspapers because of their evidence contradicting yours; and whatever other people may say, I am sure you spoke the truth.' Our reporter observed something frightened in the look she cast at him as he made this assertion. 'The best thing for you is to confide in a friend who is really anxious to serve you, and whose purpose is to get at the truth of the matter.'
"'That's all I want. But where's the friend?'
"'Here. I am on the staff of the Evening Moon, which is ready to spend any amount of money in clearing the innocent and bringing the guilty to justice. They haven't any interested motives to serve; they didn't know the dead man, who some people say was murdered, and some people say wasn't. If you are an innocent woman you would jump at the chance I offer you; if you're guilty, it's a different pair of shoes, and I wash my hands of you.'
"The threat cowed Mrs. Middlemore.
"'I'm innocent, you know I am,' she gasped.
"'Of course I know you are, and I should like the opportunity to silence the wretches who speak of you in a suspicious way.'
"'What 'ave they said of me? What 'ave they dared to say?'
"'What you wouldn't like to hear; but never mind them just now. We'll soon take the sting out of their tails. Besides, while you are working in the cause of innocence your time will not be wasted. You will be well paid for the information you give.'
"This appeal to her cupidity settled the point.
"'I'll do it,' she said, 'whatever it is. I'm a innocent woman, and I want the world to know it.'
"'The world shall know it,' said our reporter, with inward satisfaction at the success of his arguments; 'and when the whole thing is made clear through you you'll be looked upon as a heroine, and everybody will be running to shake hands with you. People will say, "There, that's the woman that brought to light the truth about M. Felix. If it hadn't been for her we should never have known it. She's a real true woman; no nonsense about her." Why, I shouldn't wonder if they got up a subscription for you.'
("We have no doubt, when this meets the eyes of our contemporaries, that some of them will be ready to take us severely to task for the tactics adopted by our reporter. Let them. We are thoroughly satisfied with the means he employed, and we offer him our sincere thanks. There is not a move we make in this mystery which is not made in the interests of justice, and that we are not ashamed of our methods is proved by the absolutely frank manner in which we place before our readers every word that passes.)
"'What is it you want me to do?' asked Mrs. Middlemore.
"'Merely,' replied our reporter, to answer a few simple questions. I have my reasons for believing that the police have advised you to say nothing to anyone but themselves.'
"'They 'ave, sir, they 'ave.'
"'What better are you off