"Let us draw up a report," said the man, while one of the constables bound Pitou's hands by a rope and took the book into his own possession, and the other secured the prisoner to a ring happening to be by the window.
Pitou was going to bellow, but the same person who had already so influenced him seemed to hint he should submit.
He submitted with a docility enchanting the policemen, and the man in a black suit in particular. Hence, without any distrust, they walked into the farmhouse where the two policemen took seats at a table while the other—we shall know what he was after presently.
Scarcely had the trio gone in than Pitou heard the voice:
"Hold up your hands."
He raised them and his head as well, and saw Catherine's pale and frightened face: in her hand she held a knife.
Pitou rose on tiptoe and she cut the rope round his wrists.
"Take the knife," she said, "and cut yourself free from the ringbolt."
Pitou did not wait for twice telling but found himself wholly free.
"Here is a double-louis," went on the girl; "you have good legs. Make away. Go to Paris and warn the doctor."