He suddenly exposed his insignia like the end of a sash, and by a very polite gesture, with an amiable and engaging manner, pointed to the way out by the side of the archway of the hotel. "I have two of my men yonder, monsieur, but you will not place me under the necessity of--" "What is this, monsieur?" said Lissac. "I frankly confess that I understand nothing of this enigma. I hope you will explain it to me." All this was said in a conversational tone, _mezzo voce_, and accompanied with smiles. No one could have guessed what these two men were saying to each other. Only, Guy was very pale and his somewhat haughty glance around him seemed to indicate that he was seeking some support or witness. He uttered a slight exclamation of satisfaction on perceiving the journalist to whom he had just before spoken a few words before a little canvas by Meissonier. "My dear Brevans," he said in a loud voice, "here is an unpublished item for your journal. This gentleman has laid his hand on my collar." With a sly look he indicated the Commissioner of Police, who did not budge. "What! my dear fellow?" "They have arrested me, that is all," said Lissac. "Monsieur," the Commissioner quickly interrupted in a low voice, "no commotion, please. For my sake--and for yours." He lightly touched Lissac's buttonhole with the end of his finger, as if to intimate that there was the explanation of his arrest, and Guy suddenly became very red and stamped his foot. "Idiot that I am!--I am at your orders, monsieur," he said, making a sign to the Commissioner to pass out. He again saluted the stupefied journalist, and the Commissioner bowing to him, out of politeness or prudence, Guy passed before him, angrily twirling his mustache. Besides Brevans, nobody in all that crowd suspected that a man had just been arrested in the midst of the Exposition. Unless the journalist had hawked the news from group to group, it would not have been suspected. Lissac found at the door of the Club on Place Vendome a hired carriage which had come up as soon as the driver saw the Commissioner. Two agents, having the appearance of good, peaceable bourgeois, were walking about, chatting together on the sidewalk, as if on duty. The Commissioner said to one of them: "I have no further need of you, Crabot will do." Crabot, a little man with the profile of a weasel, slowly mounted the box beside the coachman, and the Commissioner of Police took his seat next to Lissac, who had nervously plucked the rosette of the Portuguese Order of Christ from his buttonhole. "What!" he said. "Really, then, it is for this? Because I wear this ribbon without having paid five or six louis into the Chancellery?--I have always intended to do so, but, believe me, I have not had the time. But a fiscal question does not warrant publicly insulting--"