"Now is my opportunity to play quits," she said to herself, and her face betrayed the intensity of her purpose.
"Monsieur l'Inspecteur!"
"Well?"
"I would like a private word with you, please."
"What's that? Oh, it's of no use," he replied.
"To your advantage, monsieur."
"And yours, eh?"
"Undoubtedly," she frankly said.
They walked on a few steps. Then the inspector raised his hand for those in the rear to stop.
They soon stood in the dark entrance of a wine-shop, the inspector of the secret police and his petite moucharde, both as sharp and hard as flint.