“Why did you fly at the time of the commencement of hostilities? You are not a Frenchman? If you had not intrigued against France, or even if you had ceased to intrigue, why did you leave your wife because our troops were about to arrive, since you were a German and settled in Germany on the territory of a Prince, who is on good terms with this same France? But we have reason to believe that you were still carrying on your intrigues. We have reason to think that you came secretly to Paris five or six months ago. You were seen in the Rue de Richelieu. Further, we have reason to think that, stationed as you were on our frontier, you were perilously inclined by your long experience as a spy to continue to spy on us, and that you did not confine yourself to a correspondence with our enemies, but actually controlled men of the class of those whom you directed at Rastadt according to your own acknowledgment.” Such were the complaints formulated by the Minister, and they were sufficient, it must be admitted, to convince him of the importance of his capture. Even if the Baron’s past life since 1800 could be voluntarily ignored--although this past life could not fail to arouse a host of just suspicions--there still remained his complicity in the drama of Rastadt, and also the coincidence--though not a very convincing one--of Bourcard’s arrest with the Baron’s presence on the banks of the Rhine. So Fouché, in his reply to Baron de Dalberg, who had begged him to comply with his requests, wished to show that he had made up his mind. “You understand, monsieur, from what has passed,” he wrote on August 29, “that Baron d’Auerweck cannot be set free, and that it is necessary to convey him to Paris in order to give his explanation of the fresh and singular information which has been received about him. Your Excellency may rest assured that his examination will be conducted with perfect impartiality, such as he may desire, and that he will obtain the fullest justice, if he can clear himself.” The unfortunate Baron had now been kicking his heels for more than a month in the jail at Offenburg, where he was kept under observation day and night by a sentinel. The heat was intense, and d’Auerweck, suffering as he was from an internal complaint, which made his detention all the harder to bear, cursed his bad luck. He reproached his Sovereign in picturesque language with having allowed him to be imprisoned without any proof of crime upon “knavish accusations,” him--