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Updated: June 11, 2025
But for M. Paul they would never have caught the slippery devil, never! Ah, what a triumph for M. Paul! He would have the whole department bowing down to him now. And Gibelin! Eh, eh! Gibelin! Tignol closed the iron gate carefully behind him and walked down the graveled walk with as little crunching as possible.
With a mingling of alarm and satisfaction Mother Bonneton obeyed the summons, and a moment later, as she unlatched the door, a fat man with a bristling red mustache and keen eyes pushed forward into the room where the lovers were waiting. Two burly policemen followed him. "Ah!" exclaimed Gibelin with a gesture of relief as his eye fell on Kittredge.
"Whoever goes," continued Coquenil, "had better carry him the five-pound notes found on Martinez and see if he can trace them through the Bank of England. They often take the names of persons to whom their notes are issued." "Excellent. I'll see to it at once," and, ringing for his secretary, the judge gave orders to this effect. To all of which Gibelin listened with a mocking smile.
"Gibelin says you have no business here. He's an impudent devil! 'Tell Beau Cocono, he sneered, 'to keep his hands off this case. Orders from headquarters. I told him you had business here, business for me, and come on, I'll show 'em." He took Coquenil by the arm, but the latter drew back. "Not yet. I have a better idea. Go ahead with your report. Never mind me."
"Ah!" said the judge, and Coquenil rubbed his glasses nervously. There is no detective big-souled enough not to tingle with resentment when he finds that a rival has scored a point. "Our friend lives at the Hôtel des Étrangers, near the corner of the Boulevard St. Michel," went on Gibelin. "I happened to be talking with the man who sent out the banquet invitations and he told me.
"M. Gibelin says I take orders from him." "We'll see about this," muttered M. Paul, and crossing the little bridge, he entered the courtyard of the Palais de Justice and hurried up to the office of Judge Hauteville. On the stairs he met Gibelin, fat and perspiring. "See here," he said abruptly, "what have you done with that auger?" "Put it in the department of old iron," rasped the other.
"It's you, M. Paul, who have done good work this night," chuckled Tignol. "Eh! Eh! What a lesson for Gibelin!" "The brute!" muttered Pougeot. Then they turned to the commissary's report of his investigation, Coquenil listening with intense concentration, interrupting now and then with a question or to consult the rough plan drawn by Pougeot.
Papa Tignol explained shamefacedly: "We did it looking for the pistol; it was Gibelin's orders." "Bon Dieu! What a pity! We can never get a clean print in this mess. But wait! How far along the alleyway did you look?" "As far as that back wall. Poor Gibelin! He never thought of looking on the other side of it. Eh, eh!" Coquenil breathed more freely. "We may be all right yet.
That note for M. Robert? There was no Robert?" "Of course not." "And and you knew it was Gibelin all the time?" "Yes. Be patient, Lucien, until we get back and I'll tell you everything." "Now," said Coquenil, as they left the garage, "where can we go and be quiet? A café is out of the question we mustn't be seen. Ah, that room you were to take," he turned to Tignol. "Did you get it?"
Coquenil smiled. "I was not with the driver, I was the driver and I had the honor of receiving five francs from my distinguished associate." He bowed mockingly to Gibelin and held up a silver piece. "I shall keep this among my curiosities." "It was a foolish trick, a perfectly useless trick," declared Gibelin, furious.
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