der?" the gendarme heard Almeyer say to the judge.

"Give it to the governor of the jail, and he will see to it," was the reply. Again Almeyer thanked the judge and retired.

As the door closed the prisoner tapped the gendarme on the shoulder and pulled a paper out of his pocket. "What did I tell you?" he said. "At last I am released; and what a kind, considerate man the judge is. You saw the paper which he has given me. Well, here it is," so saying he handed over to the gendarme a paper which he pulled out of his pocket.

As you see," said Almeyer, "it is an order for my release, and it was really most considerate of him to have given it to me instead of handing it over to you."

The gendarme congratulated his prisoner and was returning the document when the latter asked him to take charge of it.

"It is too precious," he remarked; "and I might lose it on the way; besides which I do not know the formalities which have to be observed, and I much prefer that you should arrange everything, as I do not want to stop in prison a minute longer than can be helped." The gendarme took the document, and on reaching the jail handed it over to the proper authorities. It was a printed form duly filled up with the prisoner's name, signed by the judge and bearing his official stamp.

So Almeyer was released and left the prison after receiving the warm congratulations of the governor of the jail.

Two days later an order came from the judge for the prisoner to be brought to his office. When he heard. that Almeyer had been released two days before he was dumfounded, the more so when the order of release was produced to him and proved to be a forgery. How this was done will now be seen.

The last time that Almeyer was

brought up before the Judge d'Instruction he asked to speak privately to him, and requested him to send his clerk for a few moments out of the room-which the kind-hearted judge consented to do.

Almeyer began by expressing great contrition for his past errors, and, growing excited, gesticulated a good deal, finally upsetting the inkstand over the judge's hands and papers. He was profuse in his apologies, and the kind magistrate assured him that it did not matter, and passed into an adjoining lavatory to wash his hands. This is exactly what the scoundrel had calculated upon. While the judge was away he rapidly filled in a release form, of which he had noticed several on the table; he forged the judge's signature -from a model which he noticed at the bottom of a document-and affixed the official stamp, which lay in a drawer which was unlocked; before the judge had returned he had pocketed the document. While he was doing all this he kept talking to the judge, who had his back turned. In order to be able to speak of an "order" for the jail in the hearing of the gendarme he then asked the judge for leave to obtain some clothes from his own place, as he was short of several things, and the magistrate readily acceded to his request.

We have seen how success crowned this scheme.

A hue-and-cry was raised so soon as his disappearance was discovered, but he had two days' start, and it was felt by the police that it was useless to watch the station, as he must long have cleared from Paris.

A less expert and ingenious criminal would have hastened to run away into the country and attempted to "hide" himself in some provincial town. Almeyer was too clever and cunning to follow such a course.

He knew well that a hue-and-cry would be raised by the police and in

formation conveyed to the various country police departments, so that the arrival of a stranger would not fail to attract attention. In Paris, on the contrary, he would be far safer, especially if he did not attempt to conceal himself. His calculations proved correct. The day he had escaped he boldly went to one of the great theaters of the Boulevard and took supper in a fashionable restaurant-the last place in the world where the police would have thought of hunting for an escaped criminal.

With money at his disposal-where and how he laid hands on it remains a mystery-he remained in the gay capital for some time, and then repaired to the picturesque banks of the Loire, posing as a tourist in quest of fine scenery. Ultimately he landed at Tours, where he gave himself out as a partner in a Paris stockbroker's office. An old lady whom he had met during his trip invited him to visit her, and, when he did so, she began to ask his advice about investments. The experience which he had gained in his father's office and his aptitude for finance enabled him to give the lady sound advice. She pressed him to undertake some small speculation for her; but he declined to do so, alleging that he was having a holiday and made it an invariable rule never to attend to business matters once he had left his office; he suggested to the lady to act upon his advice through her own stockbrokers, insisting also upon the fact that it was against etiquette for a firm to transact business with the clients of another firm. The old lady appreciated his delicacy, followed his advice, and reaped a handsome profit. Her regard for the young stockbroker was greatly enhanced, and finally she pressed him so hard that he consented to take charge of some $10,000.00, to be laid out in some "safe" speculation. He remarked, however, that he would only do so as a friend, and would charge no commission whatever. From time to time he handed over to the old lady

a few hundred dollars, alleged to represent the profit realized on his friendly transaction. He was too clever to represent the profit as inordinately large, and finally won the lady's confidence to such an extent that she entrusted him with $15,000.00-to invest for her.

Needless to say she never saw her money again.

With such ample means at his command, Almeyer began to lead a life of mad extravagance, and after a few months' time he fell once more into the hands of the police.

He was taken by detectives to Paris, the strictest watch being kept over him, and before being lodged in jail he was taken to the depot, where all newly arrested prisoners are first incacerated to undergo the various processes of identification, measurement,. etc.

The day after he had reached the depot he was being exercised in the yard with a number of other prisoners; but,. while the others belonged to the hooligan class, Almeyer stood in fashionable attire in a frock coat and silk hat -not having yet been convicted and therefore being allowed to retain his own clothes.

While he was walking along round the yard between two ruffians-all the prisoners marched in Indian file-the detective who was looking over them was called aside by a colleague, with whom he remained in earnest conversation for a few minutes. Taking advantage of this, Almeyer stepped out of the file and made for a door which stood half open; he had no fixed plan of action, but thought that this open doorway might lead him to some means of es

cape.

Just as he was pushing the door to walk through it, he turned a little. round to see if he was noticed, and as he did so he saw that the detective who had looked after the prisoners so far had gone and that the one who

had called him had taken his place. He had never seen the man, and was not known to him; this suggested at once a bold plan to his ever-fertile brain. Closing the door as if he had just come out of it he walked to the middle of the yard towards the detective.

"Can't you see that your men are talking?" he said to the detective in haughty tones. "I shall have to report you," he went on. "And why don't you stand at attention and take off your hat? Is this the way to speak to an inspector?"

The detective, who had newly joined the force, thinking that some high official was addressing him, removed his hat and apologized.

"You have not been long in the service," continued Almeyer. "I don't know your face. What is your name?"

The poor young detective was full of apologies, but Almeyer interrupted

him.

¶ "All right," he said. "I'll overlook the matter this time. I never like to punish a man for his first offence. But mind you, it must not occur again, and you must learn to treat high officials with proper consideration. Now," he said, "call someone to take your place and you come with me to the door and call me a cab. I am in a hurry."

The poor fellow, glad to get out of a scrape so easily, turned to obey the "Inspector's" orders, and, with hat in hand, walked in front of Almeyer to the door, answering his questions by "Oui, Monsieur l'Inspecteur," hearing which, the jailers saluted, the doorkeeper hastened to open the gate, the sentry presented arms, and Almeyer left the depot with the obsequious salutations of the too simple detective.

Before he was recaptured he added a fresh number of frauds to the list which stood already to his credit, and finally he found himself once more in durance vile.

W

HILE he was at the depot a special detective was attached to him, and he was finally transferred to the Conciergerie-the prison where prisoners used then to be confined before trial.

"This time you will not get a chance to escape, my fine fellow," the. governor remarked the day following his arrival.

"To tell you the truth, sir,” replied Almeyer, "I mean to leave you next Monday."

"I hope for your sake that you will succeed," replied the governor, laughing.

"Certainly I shall," replied the prisoner; "in fact, I have been making my arrangements before you sent for me, sir."

¶ "Well, good luck!"

"Thank you, sir;" and with these. words he returned to his cell.

It was no empty boast of which Almeyer had delivered himself; in fact, he had really discovered a means of escape on his way to the governor's office. He noticed, while passing through a courtyard outside the prisoner's quarters, a van filled with large bins which was leaving the jail.

He inquired from the warder who ¶ was escorting him what these were.

"They are the refuse bins," replied the man. "The refuse is shot down into them and they are cleared every Monday You see, the jail is an old

one, and the sewers are not connected with it."

This was enough for Almeyer.

The following Monday he was missing, and it was only long after that the manner in which he had escaped was discovered. So impossible, however, did it seem to most of those connected with the jail that any living being could have passed down the dustchute in the first place, and, in the second place, survived several hours' incarceration in the bin at the foot,

that Almeyer's subsequent account of his escape on this occasion was hardly credited.

But everything comes to an end. Recaptured, he was so closely guarded that all chance of escape for him became out of the question. He was tried, convicted, and transported to New Caledonia.

His ability as a clerk and as an accountant soon caused him to be employed in the offices of the penal settlement. As usual, his winning ways made him gain the regard of the governor, and his conduct having been exemplary he was soon appointed to a post in the governor's office. He had not yet sufficient residence to be entitled to the privilege of "living out," and had every night to return to the common dormitory. He took advantage of this to hatch a most dastardly plot. He contrived to have money sent to him from time to time from home, and by distributing small sums among his companions soon gained great influence over them. He then chummed with the most dangerous ruffians of the gang whose dormitory he shared, and he organized, with their help, a plot to murder the governor in revenge for some punishment inflicted by him upon one of the refractory convicts. When the plot was ripe, and when the conspirators, having tried to secure the co-operation of a number of convicts who had refused to join them, had thus given irrefutable proof of their intentions, Almeyer denounced them to the governor, thus gaining his utmost confidence. The conspirators were tried, some being sentenced to death and others to most terrible penalties such as confinement in total darkness for one or two years. Almeyer himself was promoted to the post of secretary to the governor. This gave him a chance of escape, which had been the object which he kept in view ever since he landed in New Caledonia. A large steam launch-almost a

In

yacht-had recently arrived from Europe for the use of the governor. his capacity of secretary to the governor, Almeyer sent, in the governor's name, the order to fill the boat with coals and provisions to its utmost capacity, under pretence of a proposed surprise visit to some of the small islands where convicts are settled; "the utmost secrecy was, in consequence, to surround these preparations." When everything was ready Almeyer forged an order for the officer commanding the local gunboat to proceed at once to some distant island, whence news of a rebellion was alleged to have been received. When night came he ordered, in the governor's name, steam to be got up on the launch, telling the engineer that he need not sit up, but could bank up his fires and go to rest.

A few hours later Almeyer came on board, accompanied by two other convicts, one of whom was himself an engineer and the other a sailor. They seized the engineer, gagged him, and made for the open sea. When they were a good way off they placed the man in a small boat, which they had been towing behind the launch for the purpose, and before he could reach land and give the alarm the fugitives were miles away. The absence of the gunboat made pursuit impossible.

What happened to Almeyer and his companions has never been known; the launch was picked up derelict some time afterwards. All the coal had been exhausted and no provisions were left on board.

The launch's boat was missing, and it is probable that when they had exhausted their coal the escaping criminals took to the boat. Whether they ever reached land or were swamped and eaten up by sharks, whether they landed on some island where the cannibals seized and ate them will forever remain a mystery.

One cannot help feeling sorry that a criminal taint should have marred the