Through the Wall Part 42

"See here," he said abruptly, "what have you done with that auger?"

"Put it in the department of old iron," rasped the other. "We can't waste time on foolish clews."

Coquenil glared at him. "We can't, eh? I suppose _you_ have decided that?"

"Precisely," retorted Gibelin, his red mustache bristling.

"And you've been giving orders to young Bobet?"

"Yes, sir."

"By what authority?"

"Go in there and you'll find out," sneered the fat man, jerking a derisive thumb toward Hauteville's door.

A moment later M. Paul entered the judge's private room, and the latter, rising from his desk, came forward with a look of genuine friendliness and concern.

"My dear Coquenil," exclaimed Hauteville, with cordial hand extended. "I'm glad to see you but--you must prepare for bad news."

Coquenil eyed him steadily. "I see, they have taken me off this case."

The judge nodded gravely. "Worse than that, they have taken you off the force. Your commission is canceled."

"But--but why?" stammered the other.

"For influencing Dedet to break a rule about a prisoner _au secret_; as a matter of fact, you were foolish to write that letter."

"I thought the girl might get important evidence from her lover."

"No doubt, but you ought to have asked me for an order. I would have given it to you, and then there would have been no trouble."

"It was late and the matter was urgent. After all you approve of what I did?"

"Yes, but not of the way you did it. Technically you were at fault, and--I'm afraid you will have to suffer."

M. Paul thought a moment.

"Did you make the complaint against me?"

"No, no! Between ourselves, I should have pa.s.sed the thing over as unimportant, but--well, the order came from higher up."

"You mean the chief revoked my commission?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen the chief, but the order came from his office."

"With this prison affair given as the reason?"

"Yes."

"And now Gibelin is in charge of the case?"

"Yes."

"And I am discharged from the force? Discharged in disgrace?"

"It's a great pity, but----"

"Do you think I'll stand for it? Do you know me so little as that?" cut in the other with increasing heat.

"I don't see what you're going to do," opposed the judge mildly.

"You don't? Then I'll tell you that--" Coquenil checked himself at a sudden thought. "After all, what I do is not important, but I'll tell you what Gibelin will do, and that _is_ important, _he will let this American go to trial and be found guilty for want of evidence that would save him_."

"Not if I can help it," replied Hauteville, ruffled at this reflection on his judicial guidance of the investigation.

"No offense," said M. Paul, "but this is a case where even as able a judge as yourself must have special a.s.sistance and--Gibelin couldn't find the truth in a thousand years. Do _you_ think he's fit to handle this case?"

"Officially I have no opinion," answered Hauteville guardedly, "but I don't mind telling you personally that I--I'm sorry to lose you."

"Thanks," said M. Paul. "I think I'll have a word with the chief."

In the outer office Coquenil learned that M. Simon was just then in conference with one of the other judges and for some minutes he walked slowly up and down the long corridor, smiling bitterly, until presently one of the doors opened and the chief came out followed by a black bearded judge, who was bidding him obsequious farewell.

As M. Simon moved away briskly, his eye fell on the waiting detective, and his genial face clouded.

"Ah, Coquenil," he said, and with a kindly movement he took M. Paul's arm in his. "I want a word with you--over here," and he led the way to a wide window s.p.a.ce. "I'm sorry about this business."

"Sorry?" exclaimed M. Paul. "So is Hauteville sorry, but--if you're sorry, why did you let the thing happen?"

"Not so loud," cautioned M. Simon. "My dear fellow, I a.s.sure you I couldn't help it, I had nothing to do with it."

Coquenil stared at him incredulously. "Aren't you chief of the detective bureau?"

"Yes," answered the other in a low tone, "but the order came from--from higher up."

"You mean from the _prefet de police?_"

M. Simon laid a warning finger on his lips. "This is in strictest confidence, the order came through his office, but I don't believe the _prefet_ issued it personally. _It came from higher up!_"

"From higher up!" repeated M. Paul, and his thoughts flashed back to that sinister meeting on the Champs Elysees, to that harsh voice and flaunting defiance.

"He said he had power, that left-handed devil," muttered the detective, "he said he had the biggest kind of power, and--I guess he has."

CHAPTER XVIII