"The imperial order has not yet been sent down," said Georges, his blue eyes flashing like steel.
He would have said more; he did not know what he might have said, for at that moment his sympathy with his father was growing by leaps and bounds, and his mother's plan began to seem incomprehensible. However, to do her justice, she had never seen General Ratoneau as he saw him.
"What do you mean by that?" said Ratoneau, sharply, and Georges found himself already repenting.
For the thing had to be carried through, and he knew it.
Further argument was stopped, at that moment, by a gentle tap at the door.
"Come in!" roared the General. "What the devil have you got there, Simon?"
The police agent stepped lightly across the room. He laid a folded paper on the table, and drew out from between its pages an unsealed letter. He spread this out with the signature uppermost, "De Mauves, Préfet du Loir."
Georges de Sainfoy, a silent looker-on, stood by the chimneypiece while General Ratoneau eagerly seized the papers. He first read the letter, which seemed to give him satisfaction, for he laughed aloud; then he snatched up the larger document, which looked like a government report of some kind. Simon, in his gendarme's dress, stood grinning in the background.
"But—but in the name of thunder what does all this mean?" Ratoneau's looks had changed to sudden fury. "Are these copies or originals? Simon, you ass, do you mean to tell me—"
Simon shrugged his shoulders and showed his teeth.