heath! At ten o'clock, I saw the steeple of Saint-Elophe from the Cote-Blanche and I cut straight across, so as to get home quicker. And here I am! A bit tired, I admit, but quite presentable.... Well, what do you say to old Morestal now, eh?" He had stood up and, forgetting all about the fatigue of the night, was enlivening his discourse with a savage display of gesture which alarmed his wife. "And my poor father was not able to escape?" asked Suzanne. "No, they had taken care to search him," replied Morestal. "Besides, they watched him more closely than they did me ... so he could not do as I did...." And he added. "And a good job too! For I should have been left to languish in their prisons until the end of an interminable trial; whereas he, in forty-eight hours ... But this is all talk. The authorities can't be far away. I want to have my report ready. There are certain things which I suspect ... the business was a plot from start to finish...." He interrupted himself, as though startled by an unexpected thought, and sat for a long time motionless, with his head in his hands. Then, suddenly, he struck the table with his fist: "That's it! I understand the whole thing now! Upon my word, it's taken me long enough!" "What?" asked his wife. "Dourlowski, of course!" "Dourlowski?" "Why, yes! From the first minute, I guessed that it was a trap, a trap contrived by inferior police-agents. But how was it laid? I see it now. Dourlowski came here yesterday, on some pretext or other. He knew that Jorance and I would take the frontier-road in the evening; and the passing of the deserter was contrived to take place at that moment, in connivance with the German detectives! One of them whistles as soon as we come up; and the soldier, who has been told, of course, that this whistle is a signal from the French accomplices, the soldier, whom Dourlowski or his confederates hold in a leash, like a dog, the soldier is let go. That's the whole mystery! It was not he, the poor wretch, whom they were after, but Jorance and Morestal. Morestal, right enough, flies to the rescue of the fugitive. They collar him, they lay hold of Jorance; and there we are, accomplices both. Bravo, gentlemen! Well played!" Mme. Morestal murmured: "But, I say, it might be a serious thing ..." "For Jorance," he replied, "yes, because he is in custody; only--there is an 'only'--the pursuit of the deserter took place on French soil. We also were arrested on French soil. It was a flagrant violation of the frontier. So there's nothing to be afraid of." "You think so?" asked Suzanne. "You think that my father ...?" "Nothing to be afraid of," repeated Morestal. And he declared, positively, "I look upon Jorance as free." "Tut, tut!" mumbled the old lady. "Things won't go so fast as that." "Once more, I look upon Jorance as free and for this good reason, that the frontier has been violated." "Who will prove the violation?"