The Dark Star

One of the policemen, noticing them, smiled sympathetically at their

battered appearance.

"Would you like to have a cat for your lively ménage?" he said,

pointing to the melancholy animal which Neeland recognised as the

dignified property of the Cercle Extranationale.

The other policeman, more suspicious, eyed Ilse Dumont closely as she

knelt impulsively and picked up the homeless cat.

"Where are you going in such a state?" he asked, moving over the heaps

of splintered glass toward her.

"Back to the Latin Quarter," said Neeland, so cheerfully that

suspicion vanished and a faint grin replaced the official frown.

"Allons, mes enfants," he muttered. "Faut pas s'attrouper dans la

rue. Also you both are a scandal. Allons! Filez! Houp! The sun is

up already!"

They went out across the rue Royale toward the Place de la Concorde,

which spread away before them in deserted immensity and beauty.

There were no taxicabs in sight. Ilse, carrying the cat in her arms,

moved beside Neeland through the deathly stillness of the city, as

though she were walking in a dream. Everywhere in the pale blue sky

above them steeple and dome glittered with the sun; there were no

sounds from quai or river; no breeze stirred the trees; nothing

moved on esplanade or bridge; the pale blue August sky grew bluer; the

gilded tip of the obelisk glittered like a living flame.

Neeland turned and looked up the Champs Elysées.

Far away on the surface of the immense avenue a tiny dark speck was

speeding--increasing in size, coming nearer.

"A taxi," he said with a quick breath of relief. "We'll be all right

now."

Nearer and nearer came the speeding vehicle, rushing toward them

between the motionless green ranks of trees. Neeland walked forward

across the square to signal it, waited, watching its approach with a

slight uneasiness.

Now it sped between the rearing stone horses, and now, swerving, swung

to the left toward the rue Royale. And to his disgust and

disappointment he saw it was a private automobile.

"The devil!" he muttered, turning on his heel.

At the same moment, as though the chauffeur had suddenly caught an

order from within the limousine, the car swung directly toward him

once more.

As he rejoined Ilse, who stood clasping the homeless cat to her

breast, listlessly regarding the approaching automobile, the car swept

in a swift circle around the fountain where they stood, stopped short

beside them; and a woman flung open the door and sprang out to the

pavement.