"There's a passage from the first courtyard into a second one, and from that you can go out either into the Place de la Madeleine or the Rue de l'Arcade. I've got a man at each exit but"——he shook his head dubiously—"one man may not be enough."
"Tonnere de Dieu, it's Madam Cecile's!" cried Coquenil. Then he gave quick orders: "Put the chauffeur with one of your men in the Rue de l'Arcade, bring your other man here and we'll double him up with this driver. Listen," he said to the jehu; "you get twenty francs extra to help watch this doorway for the man who just went in. We have a warrant for his arrest. You mustn't let him get past. Understand?"
"Twenty francs," grinned the driver, a red-faced Norman with rugged shoulders; "he won't get past, you can sleep on your two ears for that."
Meantime, Tignol had returned with one of his men, who was straightway stationed in the courtyard.
"Now," went on Coquenil, "you and I will take the exit on the Place de la Madeleine. It's four to one he comes out there."
"Why is it?" grumbled Tignol.
"Never mind why," answered the other brusquely, and he walked ahead, frowning, until they reached an imposing entrance with stately palms on the white stone floor and the glimpse of an imposing stairway.
"Of course, of course," muttered M. Paul. "To think that I had forgotten it! After all, one loses some of the old tricks in two years."
"Remember that blackmail case," whispered Tignol, "when we sneaked the countess out by the Rue de l'Arcade? Eh, eh, eh, what a close shave!"
Coquenil nodded. "Here's one of the same kind." He glanced at a sober coupé from which a lady, thickly veiled, was descending, and he followed her with a shrug as she entered the house.