Through the Wall

Through the Wall

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Through the Wall, by Cleveland Moffett This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Through the Wall
Author: Cleveland Moffett
Release Date: February 29, 2004 [EBook #11373]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THROUGH THE WALL
BY
CLEVELAND MOFFETT
AUTHOR OF
THE BATTLE, ETC.
With Illustrations by
H. HEYER
NEW YORK 1909

TO
MY WIFE
AND OUR DELIGHTFUL PARIS HOME IN THE
VILLA MONTMORENCY, WHERE THIS
BOOK WAS WRITTEN
C. M.
NEW YORK, AUGUST 1, 1909.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.
--A BLOOD-RED SKY II.--COQUENIL'S GREATEST CASE III.--PRIVATE ROOM NUMBER SIX IV.--"IN THE NAME OF THE LAW" V.--COQUENIL GETS IN THE GAME VI.--THE WEAPON VII.--THE FOOTPRINTS VIII.--THROUGH THE WALL IX.--COQUENIL MARKS HIS MAN X.--GIBELIN SCORES A POINT XI.--THE TOWERS OF NOTRE-DAME XII.--BY SPECIAL ORDER XIII.--LLOYD AND ALICE XIV.--THE WOMAN IN THE CASE XV.--PUSSY WILMOTT'S CONFESSION XVI.--THE THIRD PAIR OF BOOTS XVII.--"FROM HIGHER UP" XVIII.--A LONG LITTLE FINGER XIX.--TOUCHING A YELLOW TOOTH XX.--THE MEMORY OF A DOG XXI.--THE WOOD CARVER XXII.--AT THE HAIRDRESSER'S XXIII.--GROENER AT BAY XXIV.--THIRTY IMPORTANT WORDS XXV.--THE MOVING PICTURE XXVI.--COQUENIL'S MOTHER XXVII.--THE DIARY XXVIII.--A GREAT CRIMINAL XXIX.--THE LOST DOLLY XXX.--MRS. LLOYD KITTREDGE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"'We'll show 'em, eh, Caesar?'" "'Alice,' he cried ... 'Say it isn't true'" "'I want you,' he said in a low voice" "'I didn't _resign_; I was discharged'" "On the floor lay a man" "'Ask Beau Cocono,' he called back" "'Alice, I am innocent'" "'Have one?' said M. Paul, offering his cigarette case" "'There it lies to the left of that heavy doorway'" "'_Cherche!_' he ordered" "He prolonged his victory, slowly increasing the pressure" "Gibelin beamed. 'The old school has its good points, after all'" "'I know why you are thinking about that prison'" "She was just bending over it when Coquenil entered" "'Did you write this?'" "And when he could think no longer, he listened to the pickpocket" "'They all swore black and blue that Addison told the truth'" "A door was opened suddenly and he was pushed into a room" "'Stand still, I won't hurt you'" "'There!' he said with a hideous grin, and he handed Tignol the tooth" "'My dog, my dog!'" "The confessional box was empty--_Alice was gone!_" "'You mean that Father Anselm helped her to run away?' gasped Matthieu" "'No nonsense, or you'll break your arm'" "'It's the best disguise I ever saw, I'll take my hat off to you on that'" "'You have ordered handcuffs put on a prisoner _for the last time_'" "'No, no, no!' he shrieked. 'You dogs! You cowards!'" "'What's the matter? Your eyes are shut'" "And a moment later he had carried her safely through the flames"
CHAPTER I
A BLOOD-RED SKY
It is worthy of note that the most remarkable criminal case in which the famous French detective, Paul Coquenil, was ever engaged, a case of more baffling mystery than the Palais Royal diamond robbery and of far greater peril to him than the Marseilles trunk drama--in short, a case that ranks with the most important ones of modern police history--would never have been undertaken by Coquenil (and in that event might never have been solved) but for the extraordinary faith this man had in certain strange intuitions or forms of half knowledge that came to him at critical moments of his life, bringing marvelous guidance. Who but one possessed of such faith would have given up fortune, high position, the reward of a whole career, simply because a girl whom he did not know spoke some chance words that neither he nor she understood. Yet that is exactly what Coquenil did.
It was late in the afternoon of a hot July day, the hottest day Paris had known that year (1907) and M. Coquenil, followed by a splendid white-and-brown shepherd dog, was walking down the Rue de la Cit��, past the somber mass of the city hospital. Before reaching the Place Notre-Dame he stopped twice, once at a flower market that offered the grateful shade of its gnarled polenia trees just beyond the Conciergerie prison, and once under the heavy archway of the Prefecture de Police. At the flower market he bought a white carnation from a woman in green apron and wooden shoes, who looked in awe at his pale, grave face, and thrilled when he gave her a smile and friendly word. She wondered if it was true, as people said, that M. Coquenil always wore glasses with a slightly bluish tint so that no one could see his eyes.
The detective walked on, busy with pleasant thoughts. This was the hour of his triumph and justification, this made up for the cruel blow that had fallen two years before and