told you," said Coquenil, "I want to be put back on the force. I want to handle this case."
M. Simon thought a moment. "That ought to be easily arranged. I will see the préfet de police about it in the morning."
But the other demurred. "I ask you to see him to-night. It's ten minutes to his house in an automobile. I'll wait here."
The chief smiled. "You're in a hurry, aren't you? Well, so are we. Will you come with me, Hauteville?"
"If you like."
"And I'll go, if you don't mind," put in the commissary. "I may have some influence with the préfet."
"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."
Then there was another silence, broken presently by Gibelin.
"Do you imagine the préfet 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?"
"I'll have to set you to work on it. Ha, ha! Upon my soul, I will."
"You'd better look out," menaced the red-haired man with an ugly look, "or I'll do some work on this case you'll wish I hadn't done." With this he flung himself out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
"What did he mean by that?" muttered M. Paul, and he sat silent, lost in thought, until the others returned. In a glance, he read the answer in their faces.
"It's all right," said the chief.
"Congratulations, old friend," beamed Pougeot, squeezing Coquenil's hand.
"The préfet was extremely nice," added M. Hauteville; "he took our view at once."
"Then my commission is signed?"
"Precisely," answered the chief; "you are one of us again, and—I'm glad."
"Thank you, both of you," said M. Paul with a quiver of emotion.
"I give you full charge of this case," went on M. Simon, "and I will see that you have every possible assistance. I expect you to be on deck to-morrow morning."
Coquenil hesitated a moment and then, with a flash of his tireless energy, he said: "If it's all the same to you, chief, I'll go on deck to-night—now."
Chapter VI.
The Weapon
Right across from the Ansonia on the Rue Marboeuf was a little wine shop that remained open all night for the accommodation of cab drivers and belated pedestrians and to this Coquenil and the commissary now withdrew. Before anything else the detective wished to get from M. Pougeot his impressions of the case. And he asked Papa Tignol to come with them for a fortifying glass.
"By the way," said the commissary to Tignol when they were seated in the back room, "did you find out how that woman left the hotel without her wraps and without being seen?"
The old man nodded. "When she came out of the telephone booth she slipped on a long black rain coat that was hanging there. It belonged to the telephone girl and it's missing. The rain coat had a hood to it which the woman pulled over her head. Then she walked out quietly and no one paid any attention to her."
"Good work, Papa Tignol," approved Coquenil.
"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.
"Are you sure there is no exit from the banquet room and from these private rooms except by the corridor?" he asked.
"They tell me not."
"So, if the murderer went out, he must have passed Joseph?"
"Yes."
"And the only persons who passed Joseph were the woman
