"I will call in Block," said the Chief, and the second detective
inspector appeared to take his instructions.

He was a stout, stumpy little man, with a barrel-like figure, greatly
emphasized by the short frock coat he wore; he had smallish pig's eyes
buried deep in a fat face, and his round, chubby cheeks hung low over
his turned-down collar.

"This gentleman," went on the Chief, indicating Ripaldi, "is a member of
the Roman police, and has been so obliging as to offer us his services.
You will accompany him, in the first instance, to the Hôtel Madagascar.
Put yourself in communication with Galipaud, who is there on duty."

"Would it not be sufficient if I made myself known to M. Galipaud?"
suggested the Italian. "I have seen him here, I should recognize him--"

"That is not so certain; he may have changed his appearance. Besides,
he does not know the latest developments, and might not be very
cordial."

"You might write me a few lines to take to him."

"I think not. We prefer to send Block," replied the Chief, briefly and
decidedly. He did not like this pertinacity, and looked at his
colleagues as though he sought their concurrence in altering the
arrangements for the Italian's mission. It might be wiser to detain him
still.

"It was only to save trouble that I made the suggestion," hastily put in
Ripaldi. "Naturally I am in your hands. And if I do not meet with the