The following day, I rehearsed my lines over and over. I called the police for the third time and a young man answered. He tried to pull one over me, but I insisted in French that it was against the rule to be noisy after 22:30. I live in Paris, I added. He uttered, 'Ah' and transferred me to the police station of the appropriate district. A sympathetic major answered my call and he took the address of the restaurant from HELL. He also took down my phone number and promised to send his men. After the call, I waited without much hope.