The chief hunched his shoulders, spread out his hands, palms upward, screwed his face into an indescribable expression, and replied:
“What can I do? What could you do, in my position? Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“I could at least keep the woman under such close surveillance that she would not make a move that I did not know about. She would not——”
“Ah! Ah! Ah! Well, I will do that. I have already given directions to that effect. But I have done it before, times without number—and it has always been the same.”
“The same what? Do you mean that she gives you the slip?”
“I mean that, although my men believe that they can put their hands upon her at any moment of the day or night, while they watch her, yet—yet the things that I have attempted to describe, happen.”
“Who is the man who telephoned to you just now, chief?”
“Louis Mouquin; one of my best men. There is no better detective in Paris to-day, and not another one who is as good at shadowing.”
“He has shadowed her before, has he not?”
“Yes. Many times.”