“Have no fear, my beloved,” I whispered hurriedly. “Your own Hector will protect you!”
Already the door of the carriage had been violently torn open; the next moment a gruff voice called out peremptorily:
“By order of the Chief Commissary of Police!”
I was dumbfounded. In what manner had the Chief Commissary of Police been already apprised of this affair? The whole thing was, of course, a swift and vengeful blow dealt to me by that cowardly Rochez. But how, in the name of thunder, had he got to work so quickly? But, of course, there was no time now for reflection. The gruff voice was going on more peremptorily and more insistently:
“Is Hector Ratichon here?”
I was dumb. My throat had closed up, and I could not have uttered a sound to save my life. The police had even got my name quite straight!
“Now then, Ratichon,” that same irascible voice continued, “get out of there! In the name of the law I charge you with the abduction of a defenceless female, and my orders are to bring you forthwith before the Chief Commissary of Police.”
Then it was, Sir, that bliss once more re-entered my soul. I had just felt a small hand pressing something crisp into mine, whilst a soft voice whispered in my ear:
“Give him this, and tell him to let you go in peace. Say that I am Mademoiselle Goldberg, your promised wife.”
The feel of that crackling note in my hand at once restored my courage. Covering the lovely creature beside me with a protecting arm, I replied boldly to the minion of the law.