ng his story and poured himself out a
second cup of coffee, with the satisfied air of a man who has got off
cheaply.

The three women were silent. Suzanne lowered her head, lest she should
betray her emotion. At last, Marthe, who had no suspicions, but who was
worrying her head about Philippe's falsehood, resumed:

"At what time did you come in last night?"

"At a quarter to eleven."

"And you went to bed at once?"

"At once."

"Then how is it that your bed has not been touched?"

Philippe gave a start. The question took his breath away. Instead of
inventing some pretext or other, he stammered, guilelessly:

"Oh, so you went in ... you saw ..."

He had not thought of this detail, nor, for that matter, of any of those
which might make his story appear to clash with the facts; and he no
longer knew what to say.

Suzanne suggested:

"Perhaps Philippe spent the night in a chair...."

Marthe shrugged her shoulders; and Philippe, utterly at a loss, trying
to make up another version, did not even answer. He remained dumb, like
a child caught at fault.

"Come, Philippe," asked Marthe, "what's underneath this? Didn't you come
straight back?"

"No," he admitted.

"You came back by the frontier?"

"Yes."

"Then why conceal it? I couldn't very well be anxious now, seeing that
you are here."

"That's just it!" cried Philippe, plunging at a venture along this path.
"That's just it! I did not want to tell you that I had spent the night
looking for my father."

"The night! Then you knew before this morning that he had been carried
off?"

"Yes, last evening."

"Last evening? But how? Who told you? You can only have known it by
witnessing the arrest."

He hesitated for a second. He could have dated his interview with the
deserter Baufeld to that particular moment. But he did not think of
this; and he declared, in a firm tone:

"Well, yes, I was there ... or, at least, not far off...."

"And you heard the shots?"

"Yes, I heard the shots and also some cries of pain.... When I arrived
on the scene of the fighting, there was no one there. Then I hunted
about.... You understand, I was afraid that my father or M. Jorance had
been hit by the bullets.... I hunted all night, following their track in
the dark: a wrong track, first of all, which led me towards the Albern
Woods. And then, this morning, I found Private Baufeld, who told me
which way the attacking party had gone, and I pushed on to the factory
and