"He knows there's work to be done and he's right." Then quickly he gave the word again and once more Cæsar was away, darting back along the sidewalk toward the Champs Elysées, moving nearer and nearer to the houses and presently stopping at a gateway, against which he pressed and whined. It was a gateway in the wall surrounding the Ansonia Hotel.
"The man came out here," declared Coquenil, and, unlatching the gate, he looked inside, the dog pushing after him.
"Down Cæsar!" ordered M. Paul, and unwillingly the ardent creature crouched at his feet.
The wall surrounding the Ansonia was of polished granite about six feet high, and between this wall and the hotel itself was a space of equal width planted with slim fir trees that stood out in decorative dignity against the gray stone.
"This is what you call the alleyway?" questioned Coquenil.
"Exactly."
From the pocket of his coat the detective drew a small electric lantern, the one that had served him so well earlier in the evening, and, touching a switch, he threw upon the ground a strong white ray; whereupon a confusion of footprints became visible, as if a number of persons had trod back and forth here.
"What does this mean?" he cried.
Papa Tignol explained shamefacedly: "We did it looking for the pistol; it was Gibelin's orders."
"Bon Dieu! What a pity! We can never get a clean print in this mess. But wait! How far along the alleyway did you look?"