"What's that?" said Mole.
"Votre nom, s'il vous plait," repeated the commissaire.
"Really, I haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance."
"Sapristi!" ejaculated the commissaire, to one of his subordinates. "Quel type!"
"Now, Mr. Mole," said Jack, who was close behind the old gentleman, "why don't you speak up?"
"I don't quite follow him."
"He's only asking a question, you know. You polly-voo like a native."
"Yes; precisely, Jack. But I don't follow his accent. He's some peasant, I suppose."
"Votre nom!" demanded the official, rather fiercely this time.
"Now, then, Mr. Mole," cried a voice in the rear, "you're stopping everyone. Get it out and move on."