A whispered conversation went on in French between his captors and the Préfet, who made several entries in a large book, looking through his large, round spectacles at their prisoner from time to time, and then most severely at a little roll of printed papers, which the officer of gendarmes laid before him. 'What is all this about--what is the meaning of this absurdity, this outrage?' demanded Goring. 'No outrage at all,' replied the official, knitting his brows. 'Why has my baggage been seized!' 'You will learn in good time. _Sapristi_.' 'Why not now?' 'Well, it contained what it should not.' 'My baggage?' 'Yes.' 'It was duly inspected by the _douanier_ at the quay and passed.' 'Yes; your portmanteau, as he is here ready to affirm,' replied the Préfet; 'but not your roll of railway rugs?' 'And what the deuce was in it?' 'That which you were too cunning to have in your portmanteau.' 'Too cunning to put in my portmanteau!' said Goring, in utter bewilderment, and almost inclined to laugh now. '_Sapristi_!' exclaimed the other, using that exclamation which is for ever on a Belgian tongue; 'don't repeat my words, insolent! You concealed there these revolutionary papers, the existence of which and your object in coming to Belgium were duly and fortunately reported to the police the moment you stepped upon the Quai Van Dyck.' 'My object--reported--and by whom?' 'I do not precisely know--one of your countrymen, however; it was reported to the gendarme on duty there, and the report proved a true one. Here is a roll of nearly fifty circulars issued by the chiefs of the late French Commune in three languages, one of them being Flemish, inciting a rising against kings and all constituted authorities, which no doubt you intended to distribute here in the cause of liberty, equality, fraternity, and social democracy.' Goring was so confounded by all this that he remained for a moment or two silent, and then he laughed heartily. 'You will find this no laughing matter--Sapristi?' exclaimed the other, dipping a pen in the ink-bottle. 'Your name, coquin?' Goring's brow knit at this epithet; so he replied sternly, giving his name and rank. 'Calls himself a British officer, does he?' said the magistrate to the gendarmes, who laughed at it as a joke. 'Were you ever in Belgium before?' 'No.' 'What is your profession or occupation?' 'I have already told you.' 'Are you married?' 'Really, monsieur, your questions border on the impertinent.' 'You are an Englishman?' 'I am glad to say I am.' 'But well acquaint with Lester Squarr, I doubt not, where all the foreign _canaille_ do congregate?' 'You are an insolent fool.' 'We shall teach you to play tricks in Belgium, however.' 'D--n Belgium!' exclaimed Goring, losing patience utterly at last. 'I wish it was a few inches under the sea, instead of being a few inches out of it.'