"What's the matter?" demanded Chester, as the little man stopped.
"We can't go in there," was the reply. "They won't let us speak. We'll be thrown into jail and kept there."
"Oh, no, we won't," said Chester. "Leave it to me. Come on."
A sudden suspicion struck Jean.
"Tell me," he cried, and grasped the lad fiercely by the arm, "are you a detective?"
"No," replied Chester calmly. "What made you think that?"
"I don't know," was the reply, "but the suspicion came to me and I could not down it. I will have nothing to do with a detective."
"Well," said Chester, "I am no detective; but"—he paused and laid his hand on Jean's arm—"I am a French army officer!"
"A spy!" cried Jean, and freed his arm.
"A spy, if you choose to call me one," said Chester, "but still your friend, for I believe you have come to your senses."