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THE NET CLOSES
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An unholy light blazed from his fierce old face. "I knew it," he cried softly—"or, at least, I suspected it. For a while my suspicion rested on another man, but I discovered a few days ago that he was merely a political intrigant. So it had to be Maxeville! But the man had disappeared as though the earth had swallowed him up. How many do you think there are at this rendezvous?"

"Six or eight—ten, perhaps. Chu-Chu is the only one of whom I know anything personally or would recognise by sight."

"My men will know the others." He touched a bell, then, as the attendant entered, left the room to make his arrangements for himself. These did not take long and presently he returned.

"We will go out there immediately," said he. "I shall conduct this affair myself. There are reasons why I wish to have it managed as quietly as possible—political reasons, you understand. Even the Press will be instructed to be discreet. As for yourself, Monsieur Clamart, if the business turns out successfully you may be assured of my most distinguished consideration."

I thanked him, then asked how many men he was taking to capture the gang.

"I am taking six," he answered, "and they will go in plain clothes in two taxis. You and I will go in my own private car. You can designate the place, then wait for me in the car."

"Very well, monsieur," I answered, and wondered what he would think if he could guess at my own little scheme.

The Prefect was a good policeman and it didn't