Of Dourlowski, there was no mention. He was ignored. "But the whole case depends upon him!" exclaimed Morestal, after receiving the Prefect of the Vosges at the Saint-Elophe town-hall and discussing the German argument with him and the examining-magistrate. "The whole case depends upon him, monsieur le prefet. Even supposing their argument to be correct, what is it worth, if we prove that we were drawn into an ambush by Weisslicht and that Baufeld's desertion was a got-up job contrived by subordinate officials of police? And the proof of this rests upon Dourlowski!" He was indignant at the hawker's disappearance. But he added: "Fortunately, we have Farmer Saboureux's evidence." "We had it yesterday," said the examining-magistrate, "but we haven't it to-day." "How so?" "Yesterday, Wednesday, when I was questioning him, Farmer Saboureux declared that he had seen Weisslicht and Dourlowski together. He even used certain words which made me suspect that he had noticed the preparations for the attack and that he was an unseen witness of it ... and a valuable witness, as you will agree. This morning, Thursday, he retracts, he is not sure that it was Weisslicht he saw and, at night, he was asleep ... he heard nothing ... not even the shooting.... And he lives at five hundred yards from the spot!" "I never heard of such a thing! What does he mean by backing out like that?" "I can't say," replied the magistrate. "Still, I saw a copy of the _Boersweilener Zeitung_ sticking out of his pocket ... things have altered since yesterday ... and Saboureux has been reflecting...." "Do you think so? Is he afraid of war?" "Yes, afraid of reprisals. He told me an old story about Uhlans, about a farm that was burnt down. So that's what it is: he's afraid!..." * * * The day began badly. Morestal and his son walked silently by the old road to the frontier, where the enquiry was resumed in detail. But, at the Butte, they saw three men in gold-laced caps smoking their pipes by the German frontier-post. And, further on, at the foot of the slope, in a sort of clearing on the left, they perceived two more, lying flat on their stomachs, who were also smoking. And, around these two, there were a number of freshly-painted black-and-yellow stakes, driven into the ground in a circle and roped together. In reply to a question put to them, the men said that that was the place where Commissary Jorance had been arrested. Now this place, adopted by the hostile enquiry, was on German territory and at twenty yards beyond the road that marked the dividing-line between the two countries! Philippe had to drag his father away. Old Morestal was choking with rage: "They are lying! They are lying! It's scandalous.... And they know it! Is it likely I should be mistaken? Why, I belong here! Whereas they ... a pack of police-spies!..."