"It is finished," he declared. "Monsieur Decresson and Monsieur Grisson are of one mind in this matter. The man Tapilow's punishment was deserved."
I looked from one to the other of them in wonder.
"But I do not understand!" I exclaimed. "You mean to say, then, that even if Tapilow himself should wish it—"
Monsieur Decresson smiled grimly.
"What happens in the Café des Deux Épingles," he said, "happens outside the world. Without special permission it would not be possible for Monsieur Tapilow to speak to the police of this assault. Buy your Figaro every evening," he continued, "and soon you will read. In the meantime, I recommend you, monsieur, not to stay too long in Paris."
They took leave of me with some solemnity on the pavement outside the restaurant, but Monsieur Decresson, before stepping into his automobile, drew me a little on one side.
"Capitaine Rotherby," he said, "you have been dealt with to-day as a very privileged person. You were brought to the Café des Deux Épingles a stranger, almost a guest, and your behavior there might very well have been resented by us."
"If I have not said much," I answered, "please do not believe me any the less grateful."
"Let that go," Monsieur Decresson said coldly. "Only I would remind you of this. You are a young man, but your experience has doubtless told you that in this world one does not often go out of one's way to serve a stranger for no purpose at all. There is a chance that the time may come when we shall ask you, perhaps through Louis here, perhaps through some other person, to repay in some measure your debt. If that time should come, I trust that you will not prove ungrateful."
"I think," I answered confidently, "that there is no fear of that."