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By F. D. MERRALL3

ILondon I am never persuaded that summer has really 1 come until the first day that the taxi-men put down the hoods of their cabs and their fares assume a happier mien, sniffing up something more invigorating than carbon- monoxide and taking note of the gay window-boxes and newly-painted houses along their route. In Paris such seasonal signs are earlier ; or perhaps Parisians have more faith in their climate.

On just such a morning, anyway, Mademoiselle Zuki, of the Comedic Francaise, felt it was time to make a first gesture of confidence in the sun that shone through the drawing-room window of her ground-floor apartment in a quiet street off the Faubourg St. Honore. Both she, as a favourite of the Stage, and her Amazon parrot, the gift of a South American admirer, had a public which must be humoured, as her publicity agent often pointed out. And, indeed, she made a pretty picture at the open window as she hung out the beautiful bird's cage in the warm sunshine.

An exotic pet is a definite asset to a footlight celebrity, as everyone knows. The parrot had during the previous summer been much admired by passers-by. It would converse politely with most of them, and had become a well-known feature of the neighbourhood. • Had you had the good fortune to be a witness of this pretty initiation of summer your eye would have rested with decidedly less pleasure upon a seedy-looking little man who chanced to be shuffling along the other side of the road at that precise moment. The Weasel, as he was known in his own circle, knew Mlle. Zuki's parrot by sight. He was in the habit of allowing little to escape his alert eye wherever he happened to find himself. For this unprepossessing individual kept a squalid little bird and animal shop in a nearby slum, where he did a miserable trade in stolen pets and other ill-gotten livestock.

On this particular morning he was considerably more interested in the bird than he cared to show. A better-class bird dealer had presented himself at his unsavoury premises the evening before and asked if he had just such a parrot, as he wanted one for a wealthy client. The Weasel had replied that he thought he knew where he could lay hands on one (his words were not ill-chosen), but it might take him two or three weeks to complete the transaction. This had seemed to satisfy the dealer. And the Weasel, naming a good price, had promised to do his best, and cunningly plotted to acquire Mlle. Zuki's pet.

Now a less astute criminal would simply have stolen the bird from the window—relatively an easy operation— and covered his tracks as best he might. But the Weasel realised it was not enough merely to gain possession of the parrot. He must establish title as well : he must construct' the perfect crime.

So he developed a technique. Each morning and evening the Weasel would walk the length of Mlle. Zuki's road, as though on the way to and from work, and would stop by the way to admire the parrot. And each time, as he stood in front of the bird, he would rapidly mutter the same phrases which in the course of a few days the parrot, after the manner of its kind, would imitate. Repeated practice duly made perfect, until one day the Weasel decided that the time was ripe for the next and more decisive step. Bringing an empty cage of his own he hid it over a low garden wall conveniently near. Then, waiting until there was rib one in sight, he opened the parrot's cage with the ferrule of his walking-stick. The bird, of course, was delighted to gain its freedom and stretch its wings, and promptly flew off into a neighbouring garden. The Weasel followed with his cage and knocked at the door of the house to ask permission to retrieve his parrot which, he explained, had escaped while he was taking it to a customer. He wisely volunteered his name and address to the householder, to whom appearances were convincing enough, and departed with the parrot in his cage.

So far so good, thought the Weasel, now fully prepared for the long arm of the law to stretch out and grasp him by his not over-clean collar. Which it was not long in doing. The loss of the parrot had been promptly reported to the prefecture, and without hesitation a gendarme was sent to the shop to arrest him for the theft.

With perfunctory surprise the Weasel contented himself with maintaining, calmly but firmly, that it was indeed his parrot, and that he had recently bought it from a sailor. Of this man he gave a most detailed description, but added that the name on the receipt for 25 francs, which he readily proffered for inspection, was likely enough a false one.

The law took its course, the Weasel in the meantime having instructed an advocate no less artful than himself. This son of Solomon, when prosecuting counsel had elicited a repetition of the Weasel's statement, proceeded to cross- question Mlle. Zuki about the subject of dispute.

" Has your parrot ever learned to swear, Ma'mselle ? " was his first question, after the formal preliminaries.

" Ma foi ! Most certainly not," was the angry reply. " My parrot is never known to swear."

" And is there," continued counsel, quite unruffled, " a gentleman in your house who smokes a pipe and has not been perhaps entirely unconnected with the sea ? "

" Mon Dieu ! " exclaimed Mademoiselle, even more indignantly. " Certainly there neither is, nor has been, a gentleman of any description whatsoever residing in my house."

" Ma'mselle, I thank you. That is " I will now call the parrot, a most sagacious and helpful witress, as your Honour will doubtless admit," said counsel.

The astute_ bird was brought in, placed on the Magistrate's desk, and the cover removed from its cage. Whereupon the parrot, cocking an eye at the Bench, remarked in shrill tones of annoyance, " Tiens, but your breath smells most damnably of cognac ! "

The Magistrate looked indignantly surprised and, not seeming to realise by whom he was being addressed, replied sharply, " What's that you say ? "

" Must you smoke that foul pipe here ? " said the parrot. " It stinks the fo'c'stle out."

And there the matter ended, the Magistrate remarking acidly that he hardly expected that Mlle. Zuki would claim to own a bird with such vulgar associations.

The poor lady did not in fact feel disposed to do anything about it for the moment. While the Weasel, displaying neither surprise nor emotion, carried off the cage with the bird in it.

Nor would the true facts of the story ever have emerged had not a journalist friend of Mlle. Zuki had the perspicacity to seek out the Weasel in his lair and, under strict promises of secrecy, offered him a much larger sum of money for the parrot plus the story of its abduction than he could ever have asked for the parrot alone.

Which is how it comes that, if you care to search through the files of a •certain Paris paper for round about 19o8, you will find what I tell you is true.