"But I demand to be taken to Sonnay," Angelot said, and stopped. "The warrant for my arrest, if you have such a thing, must be from the Prefect. Take me to him, and I will soon convince him that there is some mistake." "Monsieur le Préfet is ill, as you know. Walk on, if you please." "Then take me to the sous-Préfet, or whoever is in his place." "You are going to a higher authority, monsieur, not a lower one." "What do you mean by that?" "You are going to Paris. Monsieur le Comte Réal, the head of our branch of the police, will decide what is to be done with you." "Mon Dieu! The old Jacobin! He nearly had my uncle in his fangs once," said Angelot, half to himself. "But what do they accuse me of? Chouannerie? But I am not a Chouan, and you know enough of our affairs to know that, Monsieur Simon!" The Chouan-catcher laughed sourly. "I believe this is some private devilry," the prisoner went on, with careless daring. "The Prefect has nothing to do with it. It is spite against my uncle--but you are a little afraid of touching him. Don't imagine, though, that you will annoy him particularly by carrying me off. We are not on good terms just now, my uncle and I. In truth, I have offended all my relations, and nobody will be sorry to have me away for a time." "Tant mieux, monsieur!" said Simon. "Then you won't object to giving the Minister of Police a little information about your uncle and the other Chouan gentlemen, his friends." "Ah! that is quite another story! That is the idea, is it? Monsieur le Duc de Rovigo, and Monsieur le Comte Réal, flatter themselves that they have got hold of a traitor?" "Pardon, monsieur! It is the Chouans who are traitors." "I think I could find a few others in our poor France this very night. But I am not one of them. Again, whose authority have you for arresting me? Is it Monsieur Réal who has stretched his long arm so far?" "The authority is sufficient, and you are my prisoner," Simon answered coolly. "I suspect you have no authority but your own!" "They will enlighten you in Paris, possibly." "Come, tell me, how much are they paying you for this little trick?" One of the other men laughed suddenly, and Simon became angry. "Hold your tongue, prisoner, or I shall have you gagged. You need not speak again till the authorities in Paris take means to make you. Yes, I assure you, they can persuade rather strongly when they like. Now, quick march--we have a post-chaise waiting in the road over there." Angelot saw that his wisest course was to say no more. He was unarmed; they had taken away the knife he had used for cutting grapes; his faithful fowling-piece was hanging in the hall at La Marinière. He was guarded by five men, all armed, all taller and bigger than himself. He walked along in silence, apparently resigned to his fate, but thinking hard all the while.