"Melanie."
"What's the name of the canary bird I gave her last week?"
"It isn't a canary bird, it's a bullfinch. And its name is Pete."
"Not bad, not at all bad," muttered the other, and the twinkle in his eyes faded.
"We know the important things, too, all that concerns you, from your forced resignation two years ago down to your talk yesterday with the girl at Notre-Dame. So how can you fight us? How can you shadow people who shadow you? Who watch your actions from day to day, from hour to hour? Who know exactly the moment when you are weak and unprepared, as I know now that you are unarmed because you left that pistol with Papa Tignol."
For a moment Coquenil was silent, and then: "Here's your money," he said, returning the envelope.
"Then you refuse?"
"I refuse."
"Stubborn fellow! And unbelieving! You doubt our power against you. Come, I will give you a glimpse of it, just the briefest glimpse. Suppose you try to arrest me. You have been thinking of it, now act. I'm a suspicious character, I ought to be investigated. Well, do your duty. I might point out that such an arrest would accomplish absolutely nothing, for you haven't the slightest evidence against me and can get none, but I waive that point because I want to show you that, even in so simple an effort against us as this, you would inevitably fail."
The man's impudence was passing all bounds. "You mean that I cannot arrest you?" menaced Coquenil.