"I didn't say it was."

"Anyhow, I'll get square with you," retorted the other, exasperated by M.
Paul's good nature. "The best men make mistakes and _look out that you
don't make one_."

"If I do, I'll call on you for help."

"And _if_ you do, I'll take jolly good care that you don't get it," snarled
the other.

"Nonsense!" laughed Coquenil. "You're a good soldier, Gibelin; you like to
kick and growl, but you do your work. Tell you what I'll do as soon as I'm
put in charge of this case. Want to know what I'll do?"

"Well?"

"I'll have to set you to work on it. Ha, ha! Upon my soul, I will."

"You'd better look out," menaced the red-haired man with an ugly look, "or
I'll do some work on this case you'll wish I hadn't done." With this he
flung himself out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"What did he mean by that?" muttered M. Paul, and he sat silent, lost in
thought, until the others returned. In a glance, he read the answer in
their faces.

"It's all right," said the chief.