“But how am I to know?” said the officer.
“Why, here I am.”
“But,” said the man, suspiciously, “I want to know how I am to know?”
“Nonsense,” said Elliott, laughing.
“But, Monsieur,” expostulated the officer, politely.
“This is Reginald Gethryn, artist, I tell you!”
The policeman shrugged his shoulders. He was noncommittal and very polite.
“Messieurs,” he said, “my orders are to lock up this room.”
“But it’s my room, I can’t spare my room,” laughed Gethryn. “From whom did you take your orders?”
“From Monsieur the Prefect of the Seine.”