'
'Have no discontent, monsieur. Rest tranquil; I will intervene.'
With this he stepped across the pavement in front of the cafe, into
the street, and gave utterance to a low, peculiar whistle. The cafe
was now nearly deserted, for the hour was very late, or, rather, very
early. When the waiter returned I whispered to him in some anxiety,--
'Not the police, surely?'
'But no!' he cried in scorn; 'certainly not the police.'
He went on unconcernedly taking in the empty chairs and tables. A few
minutes later there swaggered up to the cafe two of the most
disreputable, low-browed scoundrels I had ever seen, each wearing a
dark-blue cap, with a glazed peak over the eyes; caps exactly similar
to the one which lay in front of Simard. The band of Apaches which now
permeates all Paris has risen since my time, and Simard had been
mistaken an hour before in asserting that Valmont was familiar with
their haunts. The present Chief of Police in Paris and some of his
predecessors confess there is a difficulty in dealing with these
picked assassins, but I should very much like to take a hand in the
game on the side of law and order. However, that is not to be;
therefore, the Apaches increase and prosper.
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