do some laughing myself before I get
through with this case."

Both men stared at him. "But you are through."

"Am I? Ha! Through? I want to tell you, my friends, that I've barely
begun."

"My dear Paul," reasoned the commissary, "what can you do off the force?
How can you hope to succeed single-handed, when it was hard to succeed with
the whole prefecture to help you?"

Coquenil paused, and then said mysteriously: "That's the point, _did_ they
help me? Or hinder me? One thing is certain: that if I work alone, I won't
have to make daily reports for the guidance of some one higher up."

"You don't mean--" began the commissary with a startled look.

M. Paul nodded gravely. "I certainly do--there's no other way of explaining
the facts. I was discharged for a trivial offense just as I had evidence
that would prove this American innocent. They don't _want_ him proved
innocent. And they are so afraid I will discover the truth that they let
the whole investigation wait while Gibelin shadows me. Well, he's off my
track now, and by to-morrow they can search Paris with a fine-tooth comb
and they won't find a trace of Paul Coquenil."

"You're going away?"

"No. I'm going to--to disappear," smiled the detective. "I shall work in
the dark, and, when the time comes, I'll _strike_ in the dark."

"You'll need money?"

Coquenil shook his head. "I have all the money I want, and know where to go
for more. Besides, my old partner here is going to lay off for a few weeks
and work with me. Eh, Papa Tignol?"

Tignol's eyes twinkled. "A few weeks or a few months is all the same to me.
I'll follow you to the devil, M. Paul."

"That's right, that's where we're going. And when I need you, Lucien,
you'll hear from me. I wanted you to understand the situation. I may have
to call on you suddenly; you may get some strange message by some queer
messenger. Look at this ring. Will you know it? A brown stone marked with
Greek characters. It's debased Greek. The stone was dug up near Smyrna,
where it had lain for fourteen hundred years. It's a talisman. You'll
listen to anyone who brings you this ring, old friend? Eh?"

Pougeot grasped M. Paul's hand and wrung it affectionately. "And honor his
request to the half of my kingdom," he laughed, but his eyes were moist. He
had a vivid impression that his friend was entering on a way of great and
unknown peril.

"Well," said Coquenil cheerfully, "I guess that's all for to-night. There's
a coupl