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"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.
And a few moments later, with clanking harness and sounding horn, the gay party rolled away. Coquenil sat silent by his dog. A detective, like an actor or a soldier, must go on fighting and playing his part, regardless of personal feelings.
"Yes, of course," agreed Alice, "but how shall I get a lawyer?" The lady frowned. "Ah, if I could only send you to my lawyer! But that would involve explanations. We need a man to advise us, some one who knows about these things." "I have it," exclaimed Alice joyfully. "The very person!" "Who is that?" "M. Coquenil." "What?" The other stared. "You mean Paul Coquenil, the detective?"
"No, I'm through, I wash my hands of the case. The Baron de Heidelmann-Bruck can sleep easily as far as I am concerned." Tignol bounded to his feet and his little eyes flashed indignantly. "I don't believe it," he cried. "I won't have it. You can't tell me Paul Coquenil is afraid. Are you afraid?" "I don't think so," smiled the other. "And Paul Coquenil hasn't been bought?
And Jean, the garçon, had a good look at her and he told Rose, the chambermaid, and she had a look and recognized her as the woman whose photograph she had often seen in the American's room." "Ah, that's lucky!" rejoined the judge. "And you have this photograph?" "No, but " "You said you found it?" put in Coquenil. "I did, that is, I found a piece of it, a corner that wasn't burned."
Coquenil smiled. "That's how I know he escaped. If they had caught him they would have told you, wouldn't they?" "Why er " "Of course they would. Well, think what it means to commit murder in a crowded restaurant and get away. It means brains, Lucien. Ah, we're nearly there!"
With an incredulous movement Hauteville took the glass, and in his turn studied the photographs. As he looked, his frown deepened. "It seems true, it certainly seems true," he grumbled, "but how do you account for it?" Coquenil smiled in satisfied conviction.
He tracked a murderer once three miles across rough country near Liége and found him hidden in a barn. But he had better conditions there. We'll see." They had entered the courtyard now and Coquenil led Caesar to the spot where the weapon lay still undisturbed. "Cherche!" he ordered, and the dog nosed the pistol with concentrated effort.
A day of sinister portent this must have been, for scarcely had Coquenil left Notre-Dame when another scene was enacted there that should have been happy, but that, alas! showed only a rough and devious way stretching before two lovers. And again it was the girl who made trouble, this seller of candles, with her fine hands and her hair and her wistful dark eyes.
As M. Simon moved away briskly, his eye fell on the waiting detective, and his genial face clouded. "Ah, Coquenil," he said, and with a kindly movement he took M. Paul's arm in his. "I want a word with you over here," and he led the way to a wide window space. "I'm sorry about this business." "Sorry?" exclaimed M. Paul.
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