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Cruchot saluted the empty sea, his shadow long and rigid against the sand. "Understood. The sun never sets on the Gendarmerie!"
"In the name of the Law!" Cruchot screamed, tripping over a driftwood log and performing a perfect somersault into the shallow water. He emerged dripping wet, pointing a soggy finger at a bewildered sunbather. "Your swimsuit is missing three square centimeters of fabric! To the station!" Le.gendarme.de.Saint-Tropez.(1964).HDlight.1080...
In the barracks, Adjutant Gerber was already nursing a headache. "Cruchot," he sighed, gesturing to a blurry photograph. "The 'Wild Ones' are back at the secret beach. The Mayor is furious. The tourists are scandalized. Handle it. Quietly." "Quietly" was not in Cruchot’s vocabulary. Cruchot saluted the empty sea, his shadow long