“I’d try to get rid of him.”

“Exactly.”  Coquenil paused, and then, leaning closer to his friend, he said with extraordinary earnestness:  “Lucien, for over two years some one has been trying to get rid of me!”

“The devil!” started Pougeot.  “How long have you known this?”

“Only to-day,” frowned the detective.  “I ought to have known it long ago.”

“Hm!  Aren’t you building a good deal on that dream?”

“The dream?  Heavens, man,” snapped Coquenil, “I’m building nothing on the dream and nothing on the girl.  She simply brought together two facts that belong together.  Why she did it doesn’t matter; she did it, and my reason did the rest.  There is a connection between this Rio Janeiro offer and my discharge from the force.  I know it.  I’ll show you other links in the chain.  Three times in the past two years I have received offers of business positions away from Paris, tempting offers.  Notice that—­business positions away from Paris! Some one has extraordinary reasons for wanting me out of this city and out of detective work.”

“And you think this ‘some one’ was responsible for your discharge from the force?”

“I tell you I know it.  M. Giroux, the chief at that time, was distressed at the order, he told me so himself; he said it came from higher up.”

The commissary raised incredulous eyebrows.  “You mean that Paris has a criminal able to overrule the wishes of a chief of police?”

“Is that harder than to influence the Brazilian Government?  Do you think Rio Janeiro offered me a hundred thousand francs a year just for my beautiful eyes?”

“You’re a great detective.”

“A great detective repudiated by his own city.  That’s another point:  why should the police department discharge me two years ago and recommend me now to a foreign city?  Don’t you see the same hand behind it all?”

M. Pougeot stroked his gray mustache in puzzled meditation.  “It’s queer,” he muttered; “but——­”

In spite of himself the commissary was impressed.

After all, he had seen strange things in his life, and, better than anyone, he had reason to respect the insight of this marvelous mind.

“Then the gist of it is,” he resumed uneasily, “you think some great crime is preparing?”

“Don’t you?” asked Coquenil abruptly.

“Why—­er—­” hesitated the Other.

“Look at the facts again.  Some one wants me off the detective force, out of France.  Why?  There can be only one reason—­because I have been successful in unraveling intricate crimes, more successful than other men on the force.  Is that saying too much?”

The commissary replied impatiently:  “It’s conceded that you are the most skillful detective in France; but you’re off the force already.  So why should this person send you to Brazil?”

M. Paul thought a moment.  “I’ve considered that.  It is because this crime will be of so startling and unusual a character that it must attract my attention if I am here.  And if it attracts my attention as a great criminal problem, it is certain that I will try to solve it, whether on the force or off it.”