"No, thank you, Monsieur le Président. I always carry a useful fifty thousand francs in my pocket-book, in case of need."
"In that case," said the Prefect of Police, "I shall have to send some one with you to the lockup. I presume your pocket-book was among the things taken from you."
Don Luis smiled:
"Monsieur le Préfet, the things that people can take from me are never of the least importance. My pocket-book is at the lockup, as you say. But the money—"
He raised his left leg, took his boot in his hands and gave a slight twist to the heel. There was a little click, and a sort of double drawer shot out of the front of the sole. It contained two sheafs of bank notes and a number of diminutive articles, such as a gimlet, a watch spring, and some pills.
"The wherewithal to escape," he said, "to live and—to die. Good-bye,
Monsieur le Président."
In the hall M. Desmalions told the inspectors to let their prisoner go free. Don Luis asked:
"Monsieur le Préfet, did Deputy Chief Weber give you any particulars about the brute's car?"
"Yes, he telephoned from Versailles. It's a deep-yellow car, belonging to the Compagnie des Comètes. The driver's seat is on the left. He's wearing a gray cloth cap with a black leather peak."
"Thank you, Monsieur le Préfet."