A Debt Discharged
ON the afternoon of March 4th, 1913, M. Trebolino, the chief of the French Detective Department, was sitting in his office in a thoughtful frame of mind. His big desk chair had been drawn to an open fire which blazed cheerfully in the grate, for the day was piercingly cold and Paris lay under a mantle of snow.
France was passing through a passive period of lawfulness which was particularly complimentary to the genius of the Italian who had adopted the nationality of France with some profit to himself.
Crime ran in normal grooves, the mystery of the Seven Banks had been satisfactorily cleared up, and M. Trebolino was enjoying a rest. It was the bus driver's holiday for him—no other would have pleased him. The smaller incidents, which ordinarily would have engaged the attention of his subordinates, were, in the circumstances, big enough to interest him, and such an incident now occupied the restless brain of the man who, perhaps, more than any other in modern times, fought crime effectively.
He reached forward and pressed a bell-push by the side of the fireplace, and a clerk answered the summons.
"Send M. Lecomte to me," he said, without withdrawing his gaze from the dancing flames.
In a few moments there was a knock on the door and the dapper Lecomte, fated to take the place of his chief, came in.
"M. Lecomte," said the great detective, looking up with a smile of welcome,"seat you, if you please. Have you heard of a certain 'Crime Club' which exists in this Paris of yours?"
M. Lecomte nodded.
"It is amusing, that 'Cercle de Crime', is it not?" Trebolino went on with a smile;"but I am not easy in my mind, and I think you had best break it up —students are the devil."
"Will it not break itself?" asked Lecomte.
The detective pursed his lips as one who had thought both ways and was decided on one.
"What do you know of it?" he asked.
"No more than yourself," said Lecomte, stretching out his fingers to the blaze,"a number of students join together, they have solemn rituals, passwords, oaths—the whole paraphernalia of mystic brotherhood, and they meet in divers secret places, all of which are known to the police a week before."
He laughed softly, and Trebolino nodded.
"Each member swears to break some law of France," Lecomte went on;"so far they have confined their illegalities to annoying one poor gendarme."
"They threw one into the Seine," commented the chief.
"And two of the rascals nearly lost their lives getting him out," chuckled Lecomte;"we gave them three days' detention and fined them each a hundred francs
