“You ask why I wish to see your daughter,” he said when they were alone. “Good! I shall tell you: your daughter, Madame, is a spy!” He watched the effect of this purposely abrupt statement and saw a look of shocked amazement come to his hearer’s face. “A spy! What do you mean?” she gasped. “_Savez-vous ce que vous dites?_” “Perfectly. She is precisely that! We have incontestable proof that Madame René de Z—— has crossed the frontier twice, with important information for the enemy, and has brought into this city written matter from the former Government of Belgium.” Madame de X—— stared, then smiled wanly. “Ah, Monsieur, I fear you have been very wrongly informed. However eager my daughter and I might be to serve our unhappy land, alas, women of our station have not the nervous strength, even had we the courage for such deeds!” “You may be ignorant of the fact; I trust you are, for your own sake; but your daughter has shown both the strength and the courage. She has done this thing; we know it beyond all possibility of doubt, and not only she, but you and all related to her must pay the penalty unless you confess. Confession now will save you much suffering.” Madame de X—— took up the embroidery that had fallen with her hands; “I may be physically weak, Monsieur, and unfit for daring deeds,” she said quietly, “but, had a daughter of mine done that with which your suspicions honour her, no fear of pain would force me to confess.” “Your daughter must suffer the death penalty; do you realize that?” “_Bien_—if I could believe her capable of doing this thing for Belgium, even her death and mine would not dim the pride of my last moment. But, oh, Monsieur, I only ask let us not be sacrificed without the glory! Let proof be found before we are made to suffer as I know others have suffered.” “Madame, I have told you we have the proof.” “Of what?” “Of your daughter’s guilt.” “May I ask what proof?” “It is known that she crossed the frontier on the sixth of last month, and returned on the tenth; she crossed again on Monday of this week and returned last night, bearing papers which are now in this house.” These statements, although not quite correct, were startlingly near the truth; but Madame de X—— betrayed no sign of their effect upon her. “My daughter Amelia!” she ejaculated. “But, Monsieur, she has not been to this house for over a month; she is heart-broken and dwells in absolute retirement at our château beyond Boitsfort. Ah, doubtless you are ignorant of the catastrophe she and we all have lately suffered!” “_Ja—ja!_” interrupted the officer, stirring uncomfortably; “I know her husband incurred his death by rash and guilty action. In these times mercy can be shown to no one who is guilty.”