made several. A man might stand in the middle of the street and shy it
in through the open door. But then he might miss the doorway. Also
until the hour the café closed the street was as light as day. Then the
policeman was all alert for people in the middle of the street. His own
safety depended upon it too. How was the man in the street to be
dispensed with, yet the result attained? If the Boulevard was not so
wide, a person on the opposite side in a front room might fire a
dynamite bomb across, as they do from dynamite guns, but then there
was--

"By God!" cried Dupré, "I have it!"

He drew in his outstretched legs, went to the window and threw it open,
gazing down for a moment at the pavement below. He must measure the
distance at night--and late at night too--he said to himself. He bought
a ball of cord, as nearly the colour of the front of the building as
possible. He left his window open, and after midnight ran the cord out
till he estimated that it about reached the top of the café door. He
stole quietly down and let himself out, leaving the door unlatched. The
door to the apartments was at the extreme edge of the building, while
the café doors were in the middle, with large windows on each side. As
he came round to the front, his heart almost ceased to beat when a
voice from the café door said--

"What do you want? What are you doing here at this hour?"

The policeman had become so much a part of the pavement in Dupré's mind
that he had actually forgotten the officer was there night and day.
Dupré allowed himself the luxury of one silent gasp, then his heart
took up its work again.