The Face And The Mask

CONTENTS.


CHAP.
I. THE WOMAN OF STONE
II. THE CHEMISTRY OF ANARCHY
III. THE FEAR OF IT
IV. THE METAMORPHOSES OF JOHNSON
V. THE RECLAMATION OF JOE HOLLENDS
VI. THE TYPE-WRITTEN LETTER
VII. THE DOOM OF LONDON
VIII. THE PREDICAMENT OF DE PLONVILLE
IX. A NEW EXPLOSIVE
X. THE GREAT PEGRAM MYSTERY
XI. DEATH COMETH SOON OR LATE
XII. HIGH STAKES
XIII. "WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS"
XIV. THE DEPARTURE OF CUB MCLEAN
XV. OLD NUMBER EIGHTY-SIX
XVI. PLAYING WITH MARKED CARDS
XVII. THE BRUISER'S COURTSHIP
XVIII. THE RAID ON MELLISH
XIX. STRIKING BACK
XX. CRANDALL'S CHOICE
XXI. THE FAILURE OF BRADLEY
XXII. RINGAMY'S CONVERT
XXIII. A SLIPPERY CUSTOMER
XXIV. THE SIXTH BENCH




[Illustration]

_The Personal Conductor:_ "It is a statue of no importance
whatever."

_The Personally Conducted:_ "Yes, but what does it mean?"

_The Personal Conductor:_ "I don't suppose it means anything in
particular. It is not by any well-known artist and the guidebooks say
nothing about it."

_The Personally Conducted:_ "Perhaps the sculptor intended to
typify life; the tragic face representing one side of existence and the
comic mask another."

_The Personal Conductor:_ "Very likely. This way to the Louvre, if
you please."




THE WOMAN OF STONE.


Lurine, was pretty, _petite_, and eighteen. She had a nice
situation at the Pharmacie de Siam, in the Rue St. Honoré. She had no
one dependent upon her, and all the money she earned was her own. Her
dress was of cheap material perhaps, but it was cut and fitted with
that daintiness of perfection which seems to be the natural gift of the
Parisienne, so that one never thought of the cheapness, but admired
only the effect, which was charming. She was book-keeper and general
assistant at the Pharmacie, and had a little room of her own across the
Seine, in the Rue de Lille. She crossed the river twice every day--once
in the morning when the sun was shining, and again at night when the
radiant lights along the river's bank glittered like jewels in a long
necklace. She had her little walk through the Gardens of the Tuileries
every morning after crossing the Pont Royal, but she did not return
through the gardens in the evening, for a park in the morning is a
different thing to a park at night. On her return she always walked
along the Rue de Tuileries until she came to the bridge. Her morning
ramble through the gardens was a daily delight to her, for the Rue de
Lille is narrow, and not particularly bright, so it was pleasant to
walk beneath the green trees, to feel the crisp gravel under her feet,
and to see the gleaming white statues in the sunlight, with the sparkle
on the round fountain pond, by the side of which she sometimes sat. Her
favorite statue was one of a woman that stood on a pedestal near the
Rue de Rivoli. The arm was thrown over her head, and there was a smile
on the marble face which was inscrutable. It fascinated the girl as she
looked up to it, and seemed to be the morning greeting to her busy
day's work in the city. If no one was in sight, which was often the
case at eight o'clock in the morning, the girl kissed the tips of her
fingers, and tossed the salute airily up to the statue, and the woman
of stone always smiled back at her the strange mystical smile which
seemed to indicate that it knew much more of this world and its ways
than did the little Parisienne who daily gazed up at her.