"No. She claims to be an agent of your office. Vernet, who was at the gates at my request, refused to place her and her companion under arrest. She got away with Mr. Stapleton's money. I believe, Monsieur Lefevre, that you are being made a fool of by a member of your own staff."
The Prefect leaned over, and picked up the package containing the money which lay upon his desk. "I do not agree with you, my friend. Here is Monsieur Stapleton's money."
Duvall started back in his chair, amazed. "Good Lord, Chief, am I losing my senses? What is this affair, anyway, a joke?"
"Far from it, Monsieur Duvall. The criminals are still at large. The boy is in their hands. We must recover him."
"But—this money—"
"I arranged to get it, in order to prevent Monsieur Stapleton from making a fool of himself. I wish to capture these men—not to let them blackmail him out of half a million francs."
"Had you not interfered, Monsieur Lefevre, they would have been in my hands, by now. I would have had them safely the moment they attempted to enter Paris. I knew their car."
The Prefect was filled with curiosity. "How?" he asked.
"My means of a device with which Mr. Stapleton's car was equipped, the body of the one into which he threw the money was spattered with red paint. I could have identified it anywhere."
"My dear Duvall! I feel that I should beg your pardon. Your plan was cleverness itself, and I will admit that, had I not interfered, you would in all probability have captured these men. I did not know what you had done, of course. Yet in their escape I have one consolation. It would have been extremely distasteful to me, to have had Mr. Stapleton boast that a private detective in his employ had succeeded, where the police of Paris had failed."