There, a sharp divergence to the right, on German territory. Here, back
in France and, further on, at that exact spot, fifteen yards on this
side of the frontier, the scene of the fight, the place of the arrest.
Indications, undeniable indications, abounded. It was the truth, with no
possible fear of a mistake.

Philippe was carried away and categorically confirmed his original
declaration. He had heard the special commissary shouting, as he
approached the Butte-aux-Loups. The words, "We are in France!... There
is the frontier!" had reached him distinctly. And he described his
search, his conversation with Private Baufeld and the wounded man's
evidence concerning the encroachment on French territory.

The enquiry ended with a piece of good news. On Monday, a few hours
before the attack, Farmer Saboureux was said to have seen Weisslicht,
the chief of the German detectives, and a certain Dourlowski, a hawker,
walking in the woods and trying to keep hidden. Now Morestal, without
confessing the relations that existed between him and that individual,
had nevertheless spoken of the visit of this Dourlowski and of his
proposal that the witness should act as an accomplice. An understanding
between Dourlowski and Weisslicht was a proof that an ambush had been
laid and that the passing of Private Baufeld across the frontier,
arranged for half-past ten, was only a pretext to catch the special
commissary and his friend in a trap.

The magistrates made no secret of their satisfaction. The Jorance case,
a plot hatched by subordinate officials of police, whom the imperial
government would not hesitate to disown was becoming rapidly reduced to
the proportions of an incident which would lead to nothing and be
forgotten on the morrow.

"That's all right," said Morestal, walking away with his son, while the
magistrates went on to Saboureux's Farm. "It will be an even simpler
matter than I hoped. The French government will know the results of the
enquiry this evening. There will be an exchange of views with the German
embassy; and to-morrow ..."

"Do you think so?..."

"I go further. I believe that Germany will make the first advance."

As they came to the Col du Diable, they passed a small company of men
headed by one in a gold-laced cap.

Morestal took off his hat with a flourish and grinned:

"Good-afternoon!... I hope I see you well!"

The man passed without speaking.

"Who is that?" asked Philippe.

"Weisslicht, the c