Both Pougeot and Tignol noted with surprise the half-resigned, half-discouraged tone of the famous detective.
"You don't mean that you think the American may be guilty?" questioned the commissary.
"I don't say he is guilty," answered M. Paul, "but I am not so sure he is innocent. And, if there is doubt about that, then there is doubt whether this case is really a great one. I have assumed that Martinez was killed by an extraordinary criminal, for some extraordinary reason, but--I may have been mistaken."
"Of course," agreed Pougeot. "And if you were mistaken?"
"Then I've been wasting my time on a second-class investigation that a second-class man like Gibelin could have carried on as well as I; and losing the Rio Janeiro offer besides." He leaned forward suddenly toward the chauffeur. "See here, what are you trying to do?" As he spoke they barely escaped colliding with a cab coming down the Champs Elysées.
"It was his fault; one of his lanterns is out," declared the chauffeur, and, half turning, he exchanged curses with the departing jehu.
They had now reached Napoleon's arch, and, at greater speed, the automobile descended the Avenue de la Grande Armée.
"Are you thinking of accepting the Rio Janeiro offer?" asked the commissary presently.
"Very seriously; but I don't know whether it's still open. I thought perhaps you would go to the Brazilian Embassy and ask about it delicately. I don't like to go myself, after this affair. Do you mind?"
"No, I don't mind, of course I don't mind," answered, Pougeot, "but, my dear Paul, aren't you a little on your nerves to-night; oughtn't you to think the whole matter over before deciding?"
"What is there to think about?" said Coquenil. "If you've got anything to say, either of you, say it now. Run on through the _bois_," he directed the chauffeur, "and then out on the St. Cloud road. This air is doing me a lot of good," he added, drawing in deep breaths.
For some minutes they sat silent, speeding along through the Bois de Boulogne, dimly beautiful under a crescent moon, on past crowded restaurants with red-clad musicians on the terraces, on past the silent lake and then through narrow and deserted roads until they had crossed the great park and emerged upon the high-way.