"I understand," answered M. Paul. "I appreciate what you say. There's a bond between a good detective and——"
"A great detective!" put in the baron admiringly, "the greatest detective Paris has known in fifty years or will know in fifty more. Yes, yes, it's a pity!"
"I was saying," resumed the other, "that there is a bond between a detective and a criminal—I suppose it gets stronger between a—a great detective," he smiled, "and a great criminal."
De Heidelmann-Bruck looked pleased. "You regard me as a great criminal?"
Coquenil nodded gravely. "I certainly do. The greatest since Ludovico Schertzi—you know he had your identical little finger."
"Really!"
"Yes. And your absolute lack of feeling about crime. Never a tremor! Never a qualm of remorse! Just cold intelligence!"
"Of course." The baron held his left hand close to the candle and looked at it critically. "Strange about that little finger! And pretty the way you caught the clew of it on that photographer's neck. Poor little devil!"
"What did you do with the boots you were trying to return that night?" questioned the detective.
"Burned them."