He uttered these words in the tone of a man who manifestly desires his worth to be recognized, a man whose professional conscience governs his every thought. “Well said, Monsieur Commissary,” said Ralph in approving accents, considering the while that Marescal appeared to mix up his duty with a good many other things among which in particular were rancor and ambition. Marescal looked at his watch, then seeing that he had plenty of time to get some rest before the coming of the examining magistrate and his clerk, he drew his legs up on to the seat and scribbled a few notes in a little note-book. Presently the note-book came to rest on his knee; his hand loosed its hold on it; the Commissary yielded to his weariness and slept. Ralph sat watching him for two or three minutes. Since their meeting in the train his memory had been busy with the good gentleman, presenting him little by little with a more precise remembrance of his doings and his character. It had summoned up the figure of a rather interesting detective, or rather of a rich amateur who had taken up the detection of crime from a taste for it and to amuse himself, but also to serve his interests and his passions. A man fortunate in love, as Ralph now remembered, a woman-hunter, by no means always scrupulous, a man who was on occasion helped by women in his rather too rapid career. Did not people say that he had the entry into the house of the Minister himself, and that the Minister’s wife knew a good deal about certain undeserved favors he had received? Ralph took the note-book, and with one eye on the detective wrote: Notes regarding Rudolph Marescal. “A remarkable policeman. Clearsighted and full of initiative. But too fond of talking. He confides in the first comer, without asking his name or examining the state of his boots, or even looking closely at him and observing carefully his physiognomy. “Badly brought up. If he meets a young girl of his acquaintance leaving a confectioner’s on the Boulevard Haussmann, he accosts her and talks to her, though she does not wish it. If he finds her some hours later disguised, covered with blood, and guarded by the police, does not make sure that the bolt is in its proper place and that the gentleman whom he left in the railway car is not crouching behind the mail-bags.