"The upland widens out at this part," said Morestal, "and the road which
marks the boundary winds.... It is possible for foreigners to make a
mistake. It is not possible for us, for me. We were arrested on French
soil."

"You certify this on your honour?"

"I swear it on the heads of my wife and son. I swear it to God."

Le Corbier turned to the special commissary:

"M. Jorance, do you confirm this deposition?"

"I confirm each of my friend Morestal's words in every respect," said
the commissary. "They express the truth. I swear it on the head of my
daughter."

"The policemen have taken just as solemn oaths," observed Le Corbier.

"The German policemen's evidence is interested. It helps them to shield
the fault which they have committed. We have committed no fault. If
chance had caused us to be arrested on German territory, no power on
earth would have prevented Morestal and myself from admitting the fact.
Morestal is free and fears nothing. Well, I, who am a prisoner, fear
nothing either."

"That is the view which the French government has adopted," said the
under-secretary. "Moreover, we have additional evidence: yours, M.
Philippe Morestal. That evidence the government, through an excessive
feeling of scruple, has not wished to recognize officially. As a matter
of fact, it appeared to us less firm, more undecided, at the second
hearing than at the first. But, such as it is, it assumes a peculiar
value in my eyes, because it corroborates that of the two other
witnesses. M. Philippe Morestal, do you maintain the terms of your
deposition, word for word?"

Philippe rose, looked at his father, pushed back Marthe, who came
running up to him, and replied, in a low voice:

"No, monsieur le ministre."

CHAPTER VII

MARTHE ASKS A QUESTION

The conflict was immediate. Between Morestal and Philippe, the duel set
in at once. The events of the previous days had cleared the way for it:
at the first word, they stood up to each other like irreconcilable
adversaries, the father spirited and aggressive, the son anxious and
sad, but inflexible.

Le Corbier at once foresaw a scene. He went out of the tent, ordered the
sentry to stand away, made sure that the group of Germans could not hear
the sound of the raised voices. Then, after carefully closing the fly,
he returned to his place.

"You are mad! You are mad!" said Morestal, who had come up to his son.
"How dare you?"

And Jorance joined in:

"Come, co