The Clichy Police Station — the one that has served as the stage setting for some legendary cases of the third degree — nearly met its end in an apotheosis of dynamite.
Two cute little copper red bombs had been placed in a corridor leading to the Superintendent’s office; the fuses had been lit … everything was going along beautifully from the specific point of view of the depositor arguing for the purification of the place, when a dog, the Superintendent’s dog, noticed the a giorno lighting and began to raise his voice. Thus, the alarm was sounded. He barked; he barked, and someone came quickly enough to extinguish the threatening light.
It should be noted that, since the geese of the Capitol, there have always been animals that interfere in things that don’t concern them. The vile beasts — this is an image — always cry out: “Watch out!” at the smallest shake-up.
In all fairness, I’d like to make clear that the dog’s case could be pled: however dishonorable his master’s function may be, this faithful quadruped seeks to protect him. One should appreciate such complete devotion, and not cast solemn blame on the puppy who prevented things from totally blowing up.
In any case, it’s optional to fear that that the people of the Clichy police station — those worthy representatives of authority who, on May 1 and July 14, conquered a bloody reputation as executioners in the poor suburbs — only backed up in order to better blow up …