The signal from the adjutant was so slight, so swift, that Marie barely intercepted it. The lips of the general shut together like the leaves of a book. To show the interview was at an end, he reached for a pen. "I thank you," he said. "Of course," prompted the adjutant, "Madame d'Aurillac understands the man must not know we inquired concerning him." General Andre frowned at Marie. "Certainly not!" he commanded. "The honest fellow must not know that even for a moment he was doubted." Marie raised the violet eyes reprovingly. "I trust," she said with reproach, "I too well understand the feelings of a French soldier to let him know his loyalty is questioned." With a murmur of appreciation the officers bowed and with a gesture of gracious pardon Marie left them. Outside in the hall, with none but orderlies to observe, like a cloak the graciousness fell from her. She was drawn two ways. In her work Anfossi was valuable. But Anfossi suspected was less than of no value; he became a menace, a death-warrant. General Andre had said, "We have learned--" and the adjutant had halted him. What had he learned? To know that, Marie would have given much. Still, one important fact comforted her. Anfossi alone was suspected. Had there been concerning herself the slightest doubt, they certainly would not have allowed her to guess her companion was under surveillance; they would not have asked one who was herself suspected to vouch for the innocence of a fellow conspirator. Marie found the course to follow difficult. With Anfossi under suspicion his usefulness was for the moment at an end; and to accept the chance offered her to continue on to Paris seemed most wise. On the other hand, if, concerning Anfossi, she had succeeded in allaying their doubts, the results most to be desired could be attained only by remaining where they were.