What was I to do? Yet life is sweet
to me. I do not wish to be guillotined. I have heard that you are on my
track. Is it true that the case is in your hands?"
"It is."
"Thank le bon Dieu, then, I am saved."
The Gray Wolf carefully adjusts the climbers on his feet and descends
the spire.
Tictocq takes out his notebook and writes in it.
"At last," he says, "I have a clue."
* * * * * *
Monsieur le Compte Carnaignole Cusheau, once known as the Gray Wolf,
stands in the magnificent drawing-room of his palace on East 47th
Street.
Three days after his confession to Tictocq, he happened to look in the
pockets of a discarded pair of pants and found twenty million francs in
gold.
Suddenly the door opens and Tictocq, the detective, with a dozen
gensd'arme, enters the room.
"You are my prisoner," says the detective.
"On what charge?"
"The murder of Marie Cusheau on the night of August 17th."
"Your proofs?"
"I saw you do it, and your own confession on the spire of Notadam."
The Count laughed and took a paper from his pocket.
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