repeated weakly: "Discharged! Paul Coquenil discharged!"

[Illustration: "'I _didn't_ resign; _I was discharged_.'"]

"Yes, sir, discharged from the Paris detective force for refusing to arrest
a murderer--that's how the accusation read."

"But it wasn't true?"

"Judge for yourself. It was the case of a poacher who killed a guard. I
don't suppose you remember it?"

M. Pougeot thought a moment--he prided himself on remembering everything.
"Down near Saumur, wasn't it?"

"Exactly. And it was near Saumur I found him after searching all over
France. We were clean off the track, and I made up my mind the only way to
get him was through his wife and child. They lived in a little house in the
woods not far from the place of the shooting. I went there as a peddler in
hard luck, and I played my part so well that the woman consented to take me
in as a boarder."

"Wonderful man!" exclaimed the commissary.

"For weeks it was a waiting game. I would go away on a peddling tour and
then come back as boarder. Nothing developed, but I could not get rid of
the feeling that my man was somewhere near in the woods."

"One of your intuitions. Well?"