is cruel, inhuman! His Excellency never meant that, I am quite
sure--especially when I am innocent of any crime, as far as I am aware."

"We can only obey our orders, m'sieur," replied the man in the dark
overcoat.

"Then may I not write a line to my wife, just one word of excuse?" he
pleaded.

The two police agents consulted.

"Well," replied the elder of the pair, who was the one in authority, "if
you wish to scribble a note, here are paper and pencil." And he tore a
leaf from his notebook and handed it to the prisoner.

By the light of the head-lamps of the car Paul scribbled a few hurried
words to Blanche: "I am detained on important business," he wrote. "I
will return to-morrow. My love to you both.--PAUL."

The detective read it, folded it carefully, and handed it to his
assistant, telling him to go up to the chateau and deliver it at the
servants' entrance.

When he had gone the detective, turning to the chauffeur, said: "I shall
require you to take us to Verdun."

"This is not my car, m'sieur," replied Paul. "It belongs to General
Molon."

"That does not matter. I will telephone to him an explanation as soon as
we arrive in Verdun. We may as well enter the car as stand here."

Paul Le Pontois was about to protest, but what could he say? The Minister
in Paris had apparently committed some grave error in thus ordering his
arrest. No doubt there would be confusion, apologies and laughter. So,
with a light heart at the knowledge that he had committed no offence, he
got into the car, and allowed the polite police agent to seat himself
beside him.

The only chagrin he felt was that the chauffeur had overheard all the
conversation. And to him he said: "Remember, Gallet, of this affair you
know nothing."

"I understand perfectly, m'sieur," was the wondering soldier's reply.

Then they sat in silence in the darkness until the hurrying police agent
returned, after which the car sped straight past the chateau on the high
road which led through the deep valley on to the fortress town of Verdun.

As they passed the chateau Paul Le Pontois caught a glimpse of its
lighted windows and sat wondering what Blanche would imagine. He pictured
the pleasant supper party and the surprise that would be expressed at his
absence.

How amusing! What incongruity! He was under arrest!

The car rushed on beneath the precipitous hill crowned by the great
fortress of Haudiomont, through the narrow gorge--the road to Paris.