Well these young roysterers knew the police formula! Armand Massard gave in his record at a nod. The veteran commissary wrote the replies down.
"And what is your name, monsieur?"
"Henri Lerouge, Monsieur le Commissaire."
"Ah! I think we have had the pleasure of meeting before this," observed the official. "A hundred francs that this is our man," he added under his breath. Then, turning to his men, who had stolen in, shamefaced, one by one,—
"Dubat!"
"Yes, monsieur." A keen-eyed agent stepped forward and saluted military fashion.
"Do you recognize one of these gentlemen as the man who crossed the Pont de Solferino this evening with something——"
"Yes, Monsieur le Commissaire,"—pointing promptly to Henri Lerouge,—"that's the man!"
"So. You may step aside, Dubat. Now where is that—oh! Monsieur Perriot?"
"Monsieur le Commissaire," responded the unhappy cabman, who had scarcely recovered from his mishap in the stairway. He limped painfully to the front.