M. Simon thought a moment. "That ought to be easily arranged. I will see the préfet de police about it in the morning."
But the other demurred. "I ask you to see him to-night. It's ten minutes to his house in an automobile. I'll wait here."
The chief smiled. "You're in a hurry, aren't you? Well, so are we. Will you come with me, Hauteville?"
"If you like."
"And I'll go, if you don't mind," put in the commissary. "I may have some influence with the préfet."
"He won't refuse me," declared Simon. "After all, I am responsible for the pursuit of criminals in this city, and if I tell him that I absolutely need Paul Coquenil back on the force, as I do, he will sign the commission at once. Come, gentlemen."
A moment later the three had hurried off, leaving Coquenil and Gibelin together.
"Have one?" said M. Paul, offering his cigarette case.
"Thanks," snapped Gibelin with deliberate insolence, "I prefer my own."
"There's no use being ugly about it," replied the other good-naturedly, as he lighted a cigarette. His companion did the same and the two smoked in silence, Gibelin gnawing savagely at his little red mustache.