"I was right, _mon vieux!_ There at the end of the Avenue you will find them. The pig-headed prowler I saw, with _my_ pompon missing from his shoe, and his _bonne amie_ wearing the stolen ring. Ah! you police people with your tape-measures and your José Puégas! It is I, Aristide Pujol, who have to come to Perpignan to teach you your business!"
"What do you want me to do?" asked the brigadier stolidly.
"Do?" cried Aristide. "Do you think I want you to kiss them and cover them with roses? What do you generally do with thieves in Perpignan?"
"_Eh bien!_" said Aristide. Then he paused--possibly the drama of the situation striking him. "No, wait. Go and find them. Don't take your eyes off them. I will run and fetch Monsieur le Maire and he will identify his property--_et puis nous aurons la scène à faire_."
The stout brigadier grunted an assent and rolled monumentally down the Avenue. Aristide, his pulses throbbing, his heart exulting, ran to the Mayor's house. He was rather a panting triumph than a man. He had beaten the police of Perpignan. He had discovered the thief. He was the hero of the town. Soon would the wedding bells be playing.... He envied the marble of the future statue. He would like to be on the pedestal himself.
He dashed past the maid-servant who opened the door and burst into the prim salon. Madame Coquereau was alone, just preparing to retire for the night. Mademoiselle Stéphanie had already gone to bed.
"_Mon Dieu_, what is all this?" she cried.
"Madame," shouted he, "glorious news. I have found the thief!"
He told his tale. Where was Monsieur le Maire?
"He has not yet come back from the café."
"And waste time? Bah!" said the iron-faced old lady, catching up a black silk shawl. "I will come with you and identify the ring of my sainted sister Philomène. Who should know it better than I?"
Two minutes found them on their journey. Madame Coquereau, in spite of her sixty-five years trudged along with springing step.
"They don't make metal like me, nowadays," she said scornfully.
When they arrived at the gate of the Avenue, the police on guard saluted. The mother of Monsieur le Maire was a power in Perpignan.
"Monsieur," said Aristide, in lordly fashion, to a policeman, "will you have the goodness to make a passage through the crowd for Madame Coquereau, and then help the Brigadier Pésac to arrest the burglar who broke into the house of Monsieur le Maire?"