But Aristide said nothing. He stared. On the seat reposed an amorous couple. The lady wore a white domino and a black mask. The cavalier, whose arm was around the lady's waist, wore a pig's head, and a clown or Pierrot's dress. Aristide's eyes fell upon the shoes. On one of them the pompon was missing. The lady's left hand tenderly patted the cardboard snout of her lover. The fierce light of the arc lamp caught the hand and revealed, on the fourth finger, a topaz ring, the topaz held in its place by two snakes' heads. Aristide stared for two seconds; it seemed to him two centuries. Then he turned simply, caught his partner again, and with a "_Allons, Hop!_" raced back to the middle of the throng. There, in the crush, he unceremoniously lost her, and sped like a maniac to the entrance gates. His friend the brigadier happened to be on duty. He unmasked himself, dragged the police agent aside, and breathless, half-hysterical, acquainted him with the astounding discovery. "I was right, _mon vieux!_ There at the end of the Avenue you will find them. The pig-headed prowler I saw, with _my_ pompon missing from his shoe, and his _bonne amie_ wearing the stolen ring. Ah! you police people with your tape-measures and your José Puégas! It is I, Aristide Pujol, who have to come to Perpignan to teach you your business!" "What do you want me to do?" asked the brigadier stolidly. "Do?" cried Aristide. "Do you think I want you to kiss them and cover them with roses? What do you generally do with thieves in Perpignan?" "Arrest them," said the brigadier. "_Eh bien!_" said Aristide. Then he paused--possibly the drama of the situation striking him. "No, wait. Go and find them. Don't take your eyes off them. I will run and fetch Monsieur le Maire and he will identify his property--_et puis nous aurons la scène à faire_." The stout brigadier grunted an assent and rolled monumentally down the Avenue. Aristide, his pulses throbbing, his heart exulting, ran to the Mayor's house. He was rather a panting triumph than a man. He had beaten the police of Perpignan. He had discovered the thief. He was the hero of the town. Soon would the wedding bells be playing.... He envied the marble of the future statue. He would like to be on the pedestal himself. He dashed past the maid-servant who opened the door and burst into the prim salon. Madame Coquereau was alone, just preparing to retire for the night. Mademoiselle Stéphanie had already gone to bed. "_Mon Dieu_, what is all this?" she cried. "Madame," shouted he, "glorious news. I have found the thief!" He told his tale. Where was Monsieur le Maire? "He has not yet come back from the café." "I'll go and find him," said Aristide. "And waste time? Bah!" said the iron-faced old lady, catching up a black silk shawl. "I will come with you and identify the ring of my sainted sister Philomène. Who should know it better than I?" "As you like, Madame," said Aristide.