"Voila!" shouted its owner. "Je vous l'avais bien dit."
The officer took up the bottle, eyeing it suspiciously. He examined the label; he took out the stopper and sniffed, then held the bottle to the noses of his colleagues, who sniffed in turn.
"It will not explode?" he said to the Frenchman.
"Explode!" snorted the man scornfully. "It is harmless; it is perfect; it contains no petroleum; look, there is the warranty on the label. Bah!"
He struck a match and held it to the mouth of the open bottle, which the officer extended at arm's length. The flame flickered and went out.
"Voila!" said the Frenchman with a triumphant snort.
Then fumbling in his pocket he drew out a sheaf of flimsy papers. One of these he handed to the officer, who glanced at it, smiled, said, "Ah! oui! oui!" and replacing the stopper, rolled the bottle in the pyjamas again.
"But it is not yet certain," he exclaimed. "Monsieur will permit me."
He plunged his hand again into the bag, whose owner made a comical gesture of outraged modesty as the officer brought out, first the companion jacket of the pantaloons, then a somewhat ancient tooth-brush. He rummaged further, turned the bag upside down. It contained nothing else.
"A thousand excuses, monsieur," he said, replacing the articles, and chalking the bag.