CHAPTER XI
A DISCONCERTED COMMISSARY
The journey across Paris proceeded without further incident, until they reached the prefecture.
The two detectives hurried their prisoner into a large general office, where he was surveyed with some curiosity by the subordinates lounging near a huge fire, whilst one of their number reported his arrival. After a brief interval he was taken into an inner office. Behind a green baize-covered table was seated a sharp-looking man, whose face was chiefly composed of eyebrows, pince-nez, a hooked nose, and a furious imperiale.
This individual turned the shade of the lamp so that the light fell in its full radiance on the face and figure of the prisoner. He produced a huge volume, and thumbed over its leaves until he reached the first vacant place, ruled and numbered for the description of all persons brought before him.
"Your name?" he said sharply.
"Reginald Brett," was the reply.
The Frenchman required this to be spelt for him.