"You saw him?" whispered the detective.
"Did I see him!" exulted the other. "Oh, the cheek of that fellow!"
"You recognized him?"
"Did I? I'd know those little pig eyes anywhere. And that brush of a mustache! Only half of it was blacked."
"Good; that's all I want," and, stepping out of the auto, Coquenil changed quickly to the front seat. Then he drew the starting lever and the machine began to move.
"Halloa! What are you doing?" cried the chauffeur, running toward them.
"Going back to Paris!" laughed Coquenil. "Hope you find the walking good, Gibelin!"
"It's only fifteen miles," taunted Tignol.
"You loafer, you blackguard, you dirty dog!" yelled Gibelin, dancing in a rage.
"Try to be more original in your detective work," called M. Paul. "Au revoir."