o enjoy the effect which he had produced and then
continued:

"What do you say to it?"

"I say ... I say that it's most annoying.... They're in a very bad
temper as it is, on the other side. This means trouble for me."

"Why?"

"Well, of course. Haven't you heard that they're beginning to accuse me
of encouraging the German deserters?"

"Nonsense!"

"I tell you, they are. It seems that there's a secret desertion-office
in these parts. I'm supposed to be at the head of it. And you, you are
the heart and soul of it."

"Oh, they can't stand me at any price!"

"Nor me either. Weisslicht, the German commissary at Boersweilen, has
sworn a mortal hatred against me. We cut each other now when we meet.
There's not a doubt but that he is responsible for the calumnies."

"But what proofs do they put forward?"

"Any number ... all equally bad.... Among others, this: pieces of French
gold which are said to have been found on their soldiers. So you see ...
with the post tumbling down once more, the explanations that are certain
to begin all over again, the enquiries that are certain to be
opened...."

Philippe went up to him:

"Come, come, I don't suppose it's so serious as all that."

"You think not, my boy? Then you haven't seen the stop-press telegrams
in this morning's papers?"

"No," said Philippe and his father. "What's the news?"

"An incident in Asia Minor. A quarrel between the French and German
officials. One of the consuls has been killed."

"Oh, oh!" said Morestal. "This time ..."

And Jorance went into details:

"Yes, the position is exceedingly strained. The Morocco question has
been opened again. Then there's the espionage business and the story of
the French air-men flying over the fortresses in Alsace and dropping
tricolour flags in the Strasburg streets.... For six months, it has been
one long series of complications and shocks. The newspapers are becoming
aggressive in their language. Both countries are arming, strengthening
their defences. In short, in spite of the good intentions of the two
governments, we are at the mercy of an accident. A spark ... and the
thing's done."

A heavy silence weighed upon the three men. Each of them conjured up the
sinister vision according to his own temperament and instincts.

Jorance repeated:

"A spark ... and the thing's done."

"Well, let it be done!" said Morestal, with an angry gesture.

Philippe gave a start:

"What are you saying, father?"