"I arrest you, in the Emperor's name," said a third man.
Angelot struggled to free himself, and Martin lifted his stick threateningly.
"What is this, rascals? Do you know what you are saying? This is the son of Monsieur de la Marinière."
"It is some mistake. You have no business to arrest me. You will answer for this, police! You will answer it to Monsieur le Préfet. He is ill, and cannot have given the order. Show me your authority."
"Never mind our authority," said the chief. "We don't want Monsieur de la Marinière, but we do want his son. Are you coming quietly, young gentleman, or must we put on handcuffs? Get out of the way with your stick, you one-legged fellow, or I shall have to punish you."
"Keep back, Martin; you can do nothing. Go and tell my father," said Angelot. He shook off the men's hands, and stood still and upright in the midst of them.
"Why do you arrest me?" he said. "Where are you going to take me?"
"Ah, that you will see," said the police officer.
The snarling malice in his voice seemed suddenly familiar to Angelot.
"Why, I know you—you are—"