"Who?"
Victor turned his head and looked, and when his gaze fixed on that carriage, the expression of this Parisian Sleuth turned intrigued.
"Oh... Barthelemy, is it that bastard? Those damn raccoon eyes of his are unmistakably recognizable."
For some reason, just seeing that carriage made Arthur feel hollow inside.
Years of serving in the detective department had given him a special intuition. Connecting it to the previous unpleasant encounter with the Paris Police in front of the detective agency, Arthur felt that the appearance of the police chief named Barthelemy at St. Pelagie Prison was somewhat suspicious.
Arthur and Victor exchanged a glance, these two top detectives from countries across the channel almost instantly reached a consensus.
Victor took out a gold Louis from his jacket pocket and slipped it through the carriage window, instructing the coachman, "Follow the cart loaded with sacks ahead, make sure not to lose it."
