"Yes, sir," replied the man, saluting respectfully.
"Before I go in, Lucien, you'd better speak to Gibelin," whispered M. Paul. "It's a little delicate. He's a good detective, but he likes the old-school methods, and—he and I never got on very well. He has been sent to take charge of the case, so—be tactful with him."
"He can't object," answered Pougeot. "After all, I'm the commissary of this quarter, and if I need your services——"
"I know, but I'd sooner you spoke to him."
"Good. I'll be back in a moment," and pushing his way through the crowd of sensation seekers that blocked the sidewalk, he disappeared inside the building.
M. Pougeot's moment was prolonged to five full minutes, and when he reappeared his face was black.
"Such stupidity!" he stormed.
"It's what I expected," answered Coquenil.
"Gibelin says you have no business here. He's an impudent devil! 'Tell Beau Cocono,' he sneered, 'to keep his hands off this case. Orders from headquarters.' I told him you had business here, business for me, and—come on, I'll show 'em."
He took Coquenil by the arm, but the latter drew back. "Not yet. I have a better idea. Go ahead with your report. Never mind me."