was brief and to the
point. "This man is a foreigner who pays constant visits to another
foreigner, supposed to be sick. This evening he arrived with a box under
his arm which he left with his friend. The concierge has reason to
suppose that there is something wrong, for he does not believe in the
man's illness. He is supposed to be poor, and still he and his family
are living on the fat of the land. My prisoner refused to give me his
name and address, or an explanation of his visit."

"What have you to say, monsieur?" asked the captain, a man of about
thirty-five, evidently belonging to the better classes. I found out
afterwards that his name was Garnier or Garmier, and that he was a
cashier in one of the large commercial establishments in the Rue St.
Martin. He was killed in the last sortie of the Parisians.

It was the first time I had been addressed that evening as "monsieur." I
simply took a card from my pocket-book and gave it to him. "If that is
not sufficient, some of your men can accompany me home and ascertain for
themselves that I have not given a false name or address," I said.

He looked at it for a moment. "It is quite unnecessary. I know your name
very well, though I have not the honour of knowing you personally. I
have seen your portrait at my relatives' establishment"--he named a
celebrated picture-dealer in the Rue de la Paix,--"and I ought to have
recognized you at once, for it is a very striking likeness, but it is so
dark here." Then he turned to his men and to the crowd: "I will answer
for this gentleman. I wish we had a thousand or so of foreign spies like
him in Paris. France has no better friend than he."

I was almost as much afraid of the captain's praise as I had been of the
corporal's blame, because the crowd wanted to give me an ovation; seeing
which, M. Garmier invited me to stay with him a little while, until the
latter should have dispersed. It was while sitting in his own room that
he told me the following story.

"My principal duty, monsieur, seems to consist, not in killing Germans,
but in preventing perfectly honest Frenchmen and foreigners from being
killed or maimed. Not later than the night before last, three men were
brought in. They were all very powerful fellows; there was no doubt
about their being Frenchmen. They did not take their arrest as a matter
of course at all, but to every question I put they simply sent me to the
devil. It was not the behaviour of the presumed s