It was the first time within Inspector Loup's experience that he had found any one wanting to quit--actually refusing good money to quit--the Secret System, having once enjoyed its delightful atmosphere.
But he was so much involved in his mental struggle with this new phase of detective life that he did not answer. He had figured it out.
"So! I think I understand now. But why quit? You have struck something better; but, surely, mademoiselle, one can be in love and yet do one's duty to the State."
"Oh, well; you can resign, can't you? Nobody hinders you." And be a fool! was in Monsieur l'Inspecteur's tone.
"Yes; but that is not all, monsieur. I want it with your free consent and written quittance,--and more, your word of honor that I will never be molested by you or your agents,--that I will be as if I had never been!"
"Good! Then we _do_ understand each other," he said, taking her hand for the first time in his life.
"You have my word. But you will permit me to give you a last word of fatherly advice before I cease to know you. Keep that gay young lover of yours out of mischief; he will never again get off as easily as he did the other day."
"Thanks, Monsieur l'Inspecteur!" said Mlle. Fouchette, very glad indeed now that the lantern was not turned on her.
"Allons!" he cried, looking about him. "And my men, mademoiselle?"
"I would put two at the door where you met us--out of sight--and leave two in the Rue St. Jacques where we shall enter,--until you see for yourself,--the coast is clear."
"Good!" said he, and he gave the necessary orders.
Inspector Loup issued from the Rue Soufflot entrance an hour later with a look of keen satisfaction.
Between the royalists on the one hand, and the republicans on the other, there were gigantic possibilities for an official of Inspector Loup's elasticity of conscience.
He had first of all enjoined strict silence on the part of Mlle. Fouchette and Jean Marot.
During his inspection of the premises he had found opportunity to secretly transfer an envelope to the hand of Mlle. Fouchette. For the chief of the Secret System was too clever not to see the shoe that pinched Mlle. Fouchette's toes, and, while despising her weakness, was loyal to his obligation.