for M. Pougeot. The commissary glanced at it quickly and then, with a word
of excuse, left the room, returning a few minutes later and whispering
earnestly to M. Simon.

"You say _he_ is here?" exclaimed the latter. "I thought he was sailing
for----"

M. Pougeot bent closer and whispered again.

"Paul Coquenil!" exclaimed the chief. "Why, certainly, ask him to come in."

A moment later Coquenil entered and all rose with cordial greetings, that
is, all except Gibelin, whose curt nod and suspicious glances showed that
he found anything but satisfaction in the presence of this formidable
rival.

"My dear Coquenil!" said Simon warmly. "This is like the old days! If you
were only with us now what a nut there would be for you to crack!"

"So I hear," smiled M. Paul, "and--er--the fact is, I have come to help
you crack it." He spoke with that quiet but confident seriousness which
always carried conviction, and M. Simon and the judge, feeling the man's
power, waited his further words with growing interest; but Gibelin blinked
his small eyes and muttered under his breath: "The cheek of the fellow!"

"As you know," explained Coquenil briefly, "I resigned from the force two
years ago. I need not go into details; the point is, I now ask to be taken
back. That is why I am here."

"But, my dear fellow," replied the chief in frank astonishment, "I
understood that you had received a magnificent offer with----"

"Yes, yes, I have."

"With a salary of a hundred thousand francs?"

"It's true, but--I have refused it."

Simon and Hauteville looked at Coquenil incredulously. How could a man
refuse a salary of a hundred thousand francs? The commissary watched his
friend with admiration, Gibelin with envious hostility.

"May I ask _why_ you have refused it?" asked the chief.

"Partly for personal reasons, largely because I want to have a hand in this
case."

Gibelin moved uneasily.

"You think this case so interesting?" put in the judge.

"The most interesting I have ever known," answered the other, and then he
added with all the authority of his fine, grave face: "It's more than
interesting, _it's the most important criminal case Paris has known for
three generations_."

Again they stared at him.

"My dear Coquenil, you exaggerate," objected M. Simon. "After all, we have
only the shooting of a billiard player."

M. Paul shook his head and replied impressively: "The billiard player was a
pawn in the game. He became t