is detective drove up in a
carriage, accompanied by a uniformed official, and requested the
astounded American to accompany them to the police headquarters.

"What for?" he asked.

"It is only a formality," said the detective; and when Burwell still
protested the man in uniform remarked: "You'd better come quietly,
monsieur; you will have to come, anyway."

An hour later, after severe cross-examination by another official, who
demanded many facts about the New Yorker's age, place of birth,
residence, occupation, etc., the bewildered man found himself in the
Conciergerie prison. Why he was there or what was about to befall him
Burwell had no means of knowing; but before the day was over he
succeeded in having a message sent to the American Legation, where he
demanded immediate protection as a citizen of the United States. It was
not until evening, however, that the Secretary of Legation, a
consequential person, called at the prison. There followed a stormy
interview, in which the prisoner used some strong language, the French
officers gesticulated violently and talked very fast, and the Secretary
calmly listened to both sides, said little, and smoked a good cigar.

"I will lay your case before the American minister," he said as he rose
to go, "and let you know the result to-morrow."

"But this is an outrage. Do you mean to say--" Before he could finish,
however, the Secretary, with a strangely suspicious glance, turned and
left the room.

That night Burwell slept in a cell.

The next morning he received another visit from the non-committal
Secretary, who informed him that matters had been arranged, and that he
would be set at liberty forthwith.

"I must tell you, though," he said, "that I have had great difficulty in
accomplishing this, and your liberty is granted only on condition that
you leave the country within twenty-four hours, and never under any
conditions return."

Burwell stormed, raged, and pleaded; but it availed nothing. The
Secretary was inexorable, and yet he positively refused to throw any
light upon the causes of this monstrous injustice.

"Here is your card," he said, handing him a large envelope closed with
the seal of Legation. "I advise you to burn it and never refer to the
matter again."

That night the ill-fated man took the train for London, his heart
consumed by hatred for the whole French nation, together with a burning
desire for vengeance. He wired his wife to meet him at the sta