HOW MONSIEUR SIMON SHOWED HIMSELF A LITTLE TOO CLEVER General Ratoneau had gone into the Prefecture in a good humour; he came out in a bad one. The change was not lost on the police agent, still loitering under the shade of the high white wall. Simon was a malcontent. He had talent, he wanted power. No one was cleverer at hunting out the details of a case; he was a born detective. It was hard on such a man, who intended to rise high in his profession, and found the spying and chasing of state criminals an agreeable duty, to be under the orders of so weak-kneed an official as the Baron de Mauves. What was the use of giving in reports that were never acted on! In other departments there were substantial money rewards to be had, if a police spy, at his own risk, hunted out treason against the Empire. In other departments a Prefect made it worth while, in every sense, for his subordinates to do their duty. In this one, since the present Prefect came into office, there was neither rising pay nor quick promotion. He drove with a slack rein; his weapons were trust and kindness. He had to be driven to extremities before he would treat anybody, even a proved Chouan, with the rigour of the law. Simon tried to do a little terrorising on his own account, and had made some money by blackmailing less wide-awake men than Urbain de la Marinière; but, on the whole, he earned more hatred than anything else in his prowlings round the country. Ratoneau, coming out with a sulky, scowling face from his interview with the Prefect, happened to look up as he passed Simon, and the fellow's expression struck him oddly. It was full of intelligence, and of a queer kind of sympathy. He had noticed it before. Simon had made himself useful to him in several underhand ways. "What do you want?" he said, stopping suddenly. Simon stepped up close to him, so that neither sentries nor passers-by might hear. "Me? I want nothing. I was only thinking that Monsieur le Général had been annoyed. A thousand pardons! I was only wondering--well, I have my provocations too, plenty of them!" "I'll be bound you have, in such a service as yours," said the General, staring at him. "Come to the hotel this evening, and I'll talk to you." The officers who dined that day with their chief found his company less attractive than ever. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts, and to judge by his face, they were anything but agreeable. The whole mess was glad to be relieved of his scowling presence unusually early. He had drunk little, and went away unusually sober; but that was not always a good sign with him. If he chose to keep a clear brain, it was generally for his own ends, and they were seldom virtuous or desirable.