“If you like.”

“And I’ll go, if you don’t mind,” put in the commissary.  “I may have some influence with the prefet.”

“He won’t refuse me,” declared Simon.  “After all, I am responsible for the pursuit of criminals in this city, and if I tell him that I absolutely need Paul Coquenil back on the force, as I do, he will sign the commission at once.  Come, gentlemen.”

A moment later the three had hurried off, leaving Coquenil and Gibelin together.

“Have one?” said M. Paul, offering his cigarette case.

“Thanks,” snapped Gibelin with deliberate insolence, “I prefer my own.”

“There’s no use being ugly about it,” replied the other good-naturedly, as he lighted a cigarette.  His companion did the same and the two smoked in silence, Gibelin gnawing savagely at his little red mustache.

“See here,” broke in the latter, “wouldn’t you be ugly if somebody butted into a case that had been given to you?”

“Why,” smiled Coquenil, “if he thought he could handle it better than I could, I—­I think I’d let him try.”

[Illustration:  “‘Have one?’ said M. Paul, offering his cigarette case.”]

Then there was another silence, broken presently by Gibelin.

“Do you imagine the prefet de police is going to stand being pulled out of bed at three in the morning just because Paul Coquenil wants something?  Well, I guess not.”

“No?  What do you think he’ll do?” asked Coquenil.

“Do?  He’ll tell those men they are three idiots, that’s what he’ll do.  And you’ll never get your appointment.  Bet you five louis you don’t.”

M. Paul shook his head.  “I don’t want your money.”

“Bon sang! You think the whole police department must bow down to you.”

“It’s not a case of bowing down to me, it’s a case of needing me.”

“Huh!” snorted the other.  “I’m going to walk around.”  He rose and moved toward the door.  Then he turned sharply:  “Say, how much did you pay that driver?”

“Ten louis.  It was cheap enough.  He might have lost his place.”

“You think it’s a great joke on me because I paid you five francs?  Don’t forget that it was raining and dark and you had that rubber cape pulled up over half your face, so it wasn’t such a wonderful disguise.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Anyhow, I’ll get square with you,” retorted the other, exasperated by M. Paul’s good nature.  “The best men make mistakes and look out that you don’t make one.”

“If I do, I’ll call on you for help.”

“And if you do, I’ll take jolly good care that you don’t get it,” snarled the other.

“Nonsense!” laughed Coquenil.  “You’re a good soldier, Gibelin; you like to kick and growl, but you do your work.  Tell you what I’ll do as soon as I’m put in charge of this case.  Want to know what I’ll do?”

“Well?”