Jacques Futrelle

“ In your country, Monsieur, we understand perfectly that it is occasionally necessary for men in our profession to use force. Here it is very different. A blow in the face is a criminal offense. I am referring, Monsieur, to the incident in the cab last night.”
“Yes, I understand.” Mr. Smith nodded.
“The other day, when we discovered that you are who you are, we allowed you to go, Monsieur, and said nothing about the girl who also has been seeking M. Clarke. If you were not M. Clarke, then M. Clarke remained to be found. ”

“ Neither M. Remi nor myself desires to be unpleasant about the incident, recognizing in you, as we do, a master of the craft; but, in all the circumstances, we agreed that it might be advisable to warn you against employing such—er—such forcible tactics. We trust you will understand our position? ”

“ I didn’t know who was following her; but I couldn’t afford to take any risk of having my plans knocked skywestern crooked, so when a man came sticking his nose in the cab I hit it.”
M. Baudet considered the matter in detail and smiled. “Your explanation is quite satisfactory, M. Smith. However, in your future work in France it might be well to remember that striking a man with your fist is a criminal offense. You may kick a man, or slap him, I mean if violence is absolutely necessary; but you must not hit him.” There was a pause. “And now, M. Clarke. You say you have found him. ”