"Well?"
"I'll have to set you to work on it. Ha, ha! Upon my soul, I will."
"You'd better look out," menaced the red-haired man with an ugly look, "or I'll do some work on this case you'll wish I hadn't done." With this he flung himself out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
"What did he mean by that?" muttered M. Paul, and he sat silent, lost in thought, until the others returned. In a glance, he read the answer in their faces.
"It's all right," said the chief.
"Congratulations, old friend," beamed Pougeot, squeezing Coquenil's hand.
"The préfet was extremely nice," added M. Hauteville; "he took our view at once."
"Then my commission is signed?"
"Precisely," answered the chief; "you are one of us again, and—I'm glad."
"Thank you, both of you," said M. Paul with a quiver of emotion.