"Yes, but the troops were overborne by the crowd."

"Next?"

"Germany is mobilizing all her frontier army-corps."

"But in Paris? What about Paris?"

"Nothing but riots.... The boulevards are overrun.... At this moment,
the municipal guards are charging the mob to clear the approaches to the
Palais-Bourbon."

"But what do they want, when all is said?"

"War."

The word rang out like a death-knell. After a few seconds, Le Corbier
asked:

"Is that all?"

"The prime minister is anxiously awaiting your return. 'Don't let him
lose a minute,' he said. 'His report might spell safety. It is my last
shot. If it misses fire, I can't answer for what will happen.' And he
added, 'And, even then, it may be too late.'"

The silence was really excruciating around the table, in the little
space inside that tent in which the cruelest of tragedies was hurling
against one another a group of noble souls united by the most loyal
affection. Each of them forgot his private suffering and thought only of
the horror that loomed ahead. The sinister word was echoed in all their
hearts.

Le Corbier gave a gesture of despair:

"His last shot! Yes, if my report gave him an opportunity of retreating!
But ..."

He watched old Morestal, as though he were still expecting a sudden
retractation. What was the good? Supposing he took it upon himself to
extenuate the old man's statements, Morestal was the sort of
uncompromising man who would give him the lie in public. And then the
government would find itself in an unenviable plight indeed!

"Well," he said, "let fate take its course! We have done our very
utmost. My dear Trebons, is the motor at the cross-roads?"

"Yes, monsieur le ministre."

"Please collect the papers; we will go. We have an hour to reach the
station. It's more than we want."

He picked up his hat, his coat, took a few steps to and fro and stopped
in front of Philippe. Philippe, he half thought, had perhaps not done
his utmost. Philippe perhaps had still one stage to travel. But how was
Le Corbier to find out? How was he to fathom that mysterious soul and
read its insoluble riddle? Le Corbier knew those men endowed with the
missionary spirit and capable, in furtherance of their cause, of
admirable devotion, of almost superhuman sacrifice, but also of
hypocrisy, of craft, sometimes of crime. What was this Philippe
Morestal's evidence worth? What part exactly was he playing? Had he
deliberately and falsely given ris