“And strangely enough, they were on their way to the house,” added Ned Grandiere.
“Some of the servants must have had the discretion to go for them. Well, officers, I am glad that you are here, and I hope you will be able to do your unpleasant duty quietly,” said Mr. Force. And pointing directly to the intruder, he added: “I give that man, there, Angus Anglesea, in charge for a violent breach of the peace. Take him away at once.”
The policemen stared at the speaker, and then at Col. Anglesea, in a very unofficial sort of way, and finally walked up to the colonel, and one of them said:
“I don’t understand it, sir! What does it mean?”
“He’s drunk, I guess! But that need not hinder your duty. Go and serve the papers on him at once.”
The policeman came back to Mr. Force and offered him a folded document.
“What is this? What nonsense is this?” inquired Mr. Force, without taking the paper, because both his hands were still engaged in holding Le.
“Take it and read it, sir, if you please,” said the officer who had served it. “It is addressed to yourself.”
“Roland,” said Mr. Force, addressing young Bayard, “I don’t want to get you into a fight with your brother-in-arms, by asking you to hold Le; but will you please open that paper and hold it up before my eyes that I may read it?”
Roland bowed in silence, took the paper, opened it and stared at it for a moment, before he held it up to his host to be read.