"See here," broke in the latter, "wouldn't you be ugly if somebody butted into a case that had been given to you?"
"Why," smiled Coquenil, "if he thought he could handle it better than I could, I—I think I'd let him try."
"'Have one?' said M. Paul, offering his cigarette case."
Then there was another silence, broken presently by Gibelin.
"Do you imagine the préfet de police is going to stand being pulled out of bed at three in the morning just because Paul Coquenil wants something? Well, I guess not."
"No? What do you think he'll do?" asked Coquenil.
"Do? He'll tell those men they are three idiots, that's what he'll do. And you'll never get your appointment. Bet you five louis you don't."
M. Paul shook his head. "I don't want your money."