"Where have you been?" he asked. "My men had entirely lost sight of you, and I was beginning to be afraid of a relapse."
"Monsieur need not have been anxious," I answered. "My disappearance was not for any criminal purpose. Quite the contrary. Monsieur le Préfet may remember that when he was so lenient as to pardon me, he tried to extract certain information in regard to a suspected criminal organisation?"
"Quite so," answered the Prefect dryly, "and you declined to furnish it on the ground that you had just arrived from the other side of the Atlantic, and knew nothing about our European thieves. Of course, I did not believe you."
"At any rate," said I, "this defective knowledge has since been remedied. I have reason to believe that I can now take monsieur to a rendezvous of the most important malefactors on this side of the ocean. The chief of the band is none other than Chu-Chu le Tondeur."
The Prefect's head shot forward, and he glared at me across his desk.
"What!" he cried "you can lead me to Chu-Chu and his gang?"
"I think so, monsieur."
"Where are they?"
"At Meudon."
He leaned still closer, his eyes like gimlets and his jaw set.
"Is it"—his voice was almost a whisper—"Monsieur de Maxeville?"
"Monsieur de Maxeville and Chu-Chu le Tondeur are the same person."
