"Do you usually make searches?" asked the prisoner, with visions of his own home being desecrated and ransacked.

"Yes, we generally do," the commissaire of police admitted. "As I have explained, it is for that reason we do not allow a prisoner's wife to know that he is under arrest."

"But such an action is abominable!" cried Le Pontois angrily. "That my house should be turned upside down and searched as though I were a common thief, a forger, or a coiner is beyond toleration. I shall demand full inquiry. My friend Carlier shall put an interpellation in the Chamber!"

"Monsieur le Ministre acts upon his own discretion," the detective replied coldly.

"And by so doing sometimes ruins the prospects and the lives of some of our best men," blurted forth the angry prisoner. It was upon the tip of his tongue to say much more in condemnation, but the sight of the man with the notebook caused him to hesitate.

Every word he uttered now would, he knew, be turned against him. He was under arrest--for some crime that he had not committed.

The other pa.s.sengers by that night express, who included a party of English tourists, little dreamed as they pa.s.sed up and down the corridor that the smart, good-looking man who wore the b.u.t.ton of the Legion d'Honneur, and who sat there with the three quiet, respectable-looking men, was being conveyed to the capital under escort--a man who, by the law of France, was already condemned, was guilty until he could prove his own innocence!

In the cold grey of dawn they descended at last at the great bare Gare de l'Est in Paris. Paul felt tired, cramped and unshaven, but of necessity entered a taxi called by one of his companions, and, accompanied by Pierrepont and the elder of his a.s.sistants, was driven along through the cheerless, deserted streets to the Surete.

As he entered the side door of the ponderous building the police officer on duty saluted his escort.

His progress across France had been swift and secret.

What, he wondered, did the future hold in store for him?

His lip curled into a smile when they ushered him into a bare room on the first floor. Two police officers were placed outside the door, while two stood within.

Then, turning to the window, which looked out upon the bare trees of the Place below, he laughed aloud and made some humorous remark which caused the men to smile.

But, alas! he knew not the truth. Little did he dream of the amazing allegation that was to be made against him!--little did he dream how completely the enemies of his father-in-law, the general, had triumphed!

CHAPTER XVII

WALTER GIVES WARNING

THE morning dawned bright and sunny--a perfect autumn morning--at the pretty Chateau of Lerouville.

The message which Blanche had received after returning had not caused her much consternation. She supposed that Paul had been suddenly called away on business. So she had eaten her supper with her father and Enid and retired to rest.

When, however, they sat at breakfast--served in the English style--Sir Hugh opened a letter which lay upon his plate, and at once announced his intention of returning to London.

"I have to see Hughes, my solicitor, over Aunt Mary's affairs," he explained suddenly to Blanche. "That executorship is always an infernal nuisance."

"But surely you can remain a day or two longer, Dad?" exclaimed Madame Le Pontois. "The weather is delightful just now, and I hear it is too dreadful for words in England."

"I, too, have to be back to prepare for going away with Mrs. Caldwell,"

Enid remarked.

"But surely these solicitors will wait? There is no great urgency--there can't be! The old lady died ten years ago," Blanche exclaimed as she poured out coffee.

"My dear, I'm extremely sorry," said her father quietly, "but I must go--it is imperative."

"Not to-day?"

"I ought to go to-day," he sighed. "Indeed, I really must--by the _rapide_ I usually take. Perhaps I shall alter my route this time, and go from Conflans to Metz, and home by Liege and Brussels. It is about as quick, and one gets a _wagon-lit_ from Metz. I looked up the train the other day, and find it leaves Conflans at a little after six."

"Surely you will remain and say au revoir to Paul? He'll be so disappointed!" she cried in dismay.

"My dear, you will make excuses for us. I must really go, and so must Enid. She had a letter from Mrs. Caldwell urging her to get back, as she wants to start abroad for the winter. The bad weather in England is affecting her, it seems."

And so, with much regret expressed by little Ninette and her mother, Sir Hugh Elcombe and his stepdaughter went to their rooms to see about their packing.

Both were puzzled. The sudden appearance of those strange men out of the darkness had frightened Enid, but she had said nothing. Perhaps it was upon some private matter that Paul had been summoned. Therefore she had preserved silence, believing with Blanche that at any moment he might return.

Back in his room, Sir Hugh closed the door, and, standing in the sunshine by the window, gazed across the wide valley towards the blue mists beyond, deep in reflection.

"This curious absence of Paul's forebodes evil," he murmured to himself.

He had slept little that night, being filled with strange apprehensions.

Though he had closely questioned Enid, she would not say what had actually happened. Her explanation was merely that Paul had been called away by a man who had met him outside.

The old man sighed, biting his lip. He cursed himself for his dastardly work, even though he had been compelled by Weirmarsh to execute it on pain of exposure and consequent ruin.

Against his will, against his better nature, he had been forced to meet the mysterious doctor of Pimlico in secret on that quiet, wooded by-road between Marcheville and Saint-Hilaire, four kilometres from the chateau, and there discuss with him the suggested affair of which they had spoken in London.

The two men had met at sundown.

"You seem to fear exposure!" laughed the man who provided Sir Hugh with his comfortable income. "Don't be foolish--there is no danger. Return to England with Enid as soon as you possibly can without arousing suspicion, and I will call and see you at Hill Street. I want to have a very serious chat with you."

Elcombe's grey, weather-worn face grew hard and determined.

"Why are you here, Weirmarsh?" he demanded. "I have helped you and your infernal friends in the past, but please do not count upon my a.s.sistance in the future. Remember that from to-day our friendship is entirely at an end."

"As you wish, of course, my dear Sir Hugh," replied the other, with a nonchalant air. "But if I were you I would not be in too great a hurry to make such a declaration. You may require a friend in the near future--a friend like myself."

"Never, I hope--never!" snapped the old general.

"Very well," replied the doctor, who, with a shrug of his shoulders, wished his friend a cold adieu and, turning, strode away.

As Sir Hugh stood alone by the window that morning he recalled every incident of that hateful interview, every word that had fallen from the lips of the man who seemed to be as ingenious and resourceful as Satan himself.

His anxiety regarding Paul's sudden absence had caused him to invent an excuse for his own hurried departure. He was not prepared to remain there and witness his dear daughter's grief and humiliation, so he deemed it wiser to get away in safety to England, for he no longer trusted Weirmarsh. Suppose the doctor revealed the actual truth by means of some anonymous communication?

As he stood staring blankly across the valley he heard the hum of an approaching motor-car, and saw that it was General Molon's, being driven by Gallet, the soldier chauffeur.

There was no pa.s.senger, but the car entered the iron gates and pulled up before the door.

A few minutes later Blanche ran up the stairs and, bursting into her father's room, cried: "Paul has been called suddenly to Paris, Dad! He told Gallet to come this morning and tell me. How strange that he did not come in to get even a valise!"