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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Enfin!" sighed Pougeot, when they were finally settled in Tignol's room, which they reached after infinite precautions, for M. Paul seemed to imagine that all Paris was in a conspiracy to follow them. "I've been watched every minute since I started on this case," he said thoughtfully.
"I shall work in the dark, and, when the time comes, I'll strike in the dark." "You'll need money?" Coquenil shook his head. "I have all the money I want, and know where to go for more. Besides, my old partner here is going to lay off for a few weeks and work with me. Eh, Papa Tignol?" Tignol's eyes twinkled. "A few weeks or a few months is all the same to me.
You have the money for her; say I want her to buy a new dress, a nice one, and if there's anything else she wants, why, she must have it. Understand?" Tignol nodded. Then, dropping the cab window, M. Paul told the driver to stop, and they drew up before the terraced fountains of the Trinité church. "Good-by and good luck," said Coquenil, clasping Tignol's hand, "and don't let her worry."
"There's some devil's work in this," he muttered, and as his eyes caught the fires of the lurid sky he thought of Papa Tignol's words. "What is it?" asked the sacristan, approaching timidly. The detective faced him sharply. "Who is the girl in there? Where did she come from? How did she get here?
They left the hotel by the main entrance, and were just going around into Rue Marboeuf when the concierge from across the way met them with word that Caesar had arrived. "Caesar?" questioned Gritz. "He's my dog. Ph-h-eet! Ph-h-eet! Ah, here he is!" and out of the shadows the splendid animal came bounding. At his master's call he had made a mighty plunge and broken away from Papa Tignol's hold.
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