Those who remained behind speculated on the meaning of the signal.
In a few moments there was a sound of feet, and then one of the men who had hastened to answer the signal came bursting into the room. Behind him entered two men who clutched something that was enfolded in a blanket. The other end of this something was carried by yet another.
The door was closed, and the object they had brought into the room was dropped on the floor. Every man was on his feet, and all were asking questions.
“There has been a great mistake,” declared one of the new arrivals, who was Verlain. “Charron, our agent, is here. There he stands. He it was who notified us that the spy was coming, and now he says we have made a blunder—we have the wrong one. The one in the cellar is not the spy.”
“Is not?” cried several of the astonished anarchists.
“Then who is the spy?”
“We have him here! Look!”
The blanket was removed from the bundle it had concealed, and a man, securely bound and gagged, was revealed. Montparnasse lifted a lamp from the table and held it so the light fell on the face of the helpless captive.
“The Englishman!” he cried.
“The spy!” asserted Charron.