He was returning, he said, to Pau, where he was staying with friends. Finding that he had run out of petrol, while he was passing through Tarbes, he had turned into a side-street to refill without obstructing a main thoroughfare. As he was starting again, an assault had been made--an unprovoked assault--seriously damaging the car. Thereupon he had sent for the police. Now, foiled in their enterprise, the thieves, he understood, were actually daring to say that he had assaulted them. One of them--he nodded at Berry--had certainly been roughly handled, but, Mon Dieu, what did they expect? (Here he took out his watch and frowned at the dial.) And now would the police get to work? His friends at Pau would be wondering what had become of him. I admit that you could have pushed me over. Upon the question of ownership the rogue said not a word. The whole onus of raising that issue he had thrust on to me. I was to broach the barrel of improbability, and by so doing to taint my whole case... The police were manifestly impressed. There was no doubt at all that we were up against it. The asperity with which the official asked me what we had to say sent my heart into my boots. I started to tell my story. The moment I said that the car belonged to us, police and robber stared at me as if bewitched. Then the latter exploded. It was certainly very well done. Such fulminations of outraged dignity, such out-pourings of righteous indignation, never were witnessed. It took the united sympathy and assurance of the whole personnel of the station, to smooth the ruffian down. After a while, however, he condescended to see the humorous side. The police laughed with him.... Throughout my recital I had to endure the like. As for the chief of police, he was plainly extremely bored. He listened, patently because it was his duty to let me speak. His cold, indifferent air, the way in which his eyes went straying about the room, were simply maddening. Desperately endeavouring to keep my temper, I ploughed my way on. At last-- "Listen," I said dramatically. "You do not believe me. I do not blame you. My friend has told a good tale. At present it is my word against his. Supposing I bring some evidence?" "What evidence can you bring?" "The papers belonging to the car." I pointed to the usurper. "On his own showing I cannot have seen them. Yet I will tell you their contents. I pray you, send for them. They're in the left----" "Wrong, sonny," said my antagonist, tapping his coat. "I always carry 'em here." And, with that, he drew out our wallet and flung it upon the desk. With our Pass in his hands, the chief of the police blinked at me. "The chassis number?" he said. "P 1709." Up went his eyebrows. "And on the number-plates?" "XD 2322." The official folded the Pass and shook his head. "Wrong," he said shortly. As I stared at him, frowning--