"Search his pockets," Major Tempe said. "We may find something of importance."
In the breast pocket of his coat was a pocket book; and in it among the papers was a letter, from the colonel commanding at Saverne--which had evidently been brought to him by the officer of the detachment, that morning--telling him to come down to Saverne, on the following evening, to guide the troops to the village in which the franc tireurs were stationed. The letter also enclosed ten hundred-thaler notes "They are part of our blood money," the major said, grimly. "Bring them away, they are the fair spoil of war. "Tell Barre to come in." The man on the ladder now joined them; and together they quietly lifted the schoolmaster, and carried him to the window. They then fastened a rope round the prisoner's body, lifted him out on to the ladder, and lowered him gradually down to the men below. They now blew out the light, and descended the ladder. The two men who had waited at its foot raised the prisoner on their shoulders, and carried him off to their comrades; while the commandant and the other two men hastily put on their boots, seized their arms and accouterments and, in two minutes, the whole party were marching quietly down the village. No incident, whatever, marked their retreat. The sentry had been undisturbed, during their absence; and in a few minutes the whole party were out of the village, without the slightest alarm having been raised. They followed the road by which they had come, for about a mile; and then turned off a side path in the forest, to the left. They followed this for a short distance, only, into the forest; and then, when they arrived at a small, open space, a halt was ordered. The prisoner was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, by the two franc tireurs who carried him on their shoulders, and a fire was speedily lighted. Major Tempe then ordered the prisoner to be unbound and ungagged and, with a guard upon either side of him, to be placed in front of the company--drawn up in a semi-circle by the fire. The prisoner was a man of about fifty-five, with a sallow, cunning face. He could scarcely stand and, indeed, would have sunk on his knees, in his abject terror, had not the guards by his side held him by the arms. "Men," Major Tempe said, "undoubted as the guilt of the prisoner appeared to be, we had got no absolute proof; and a mistake might have been possible, as to the name of the village whose schoolmaster had betrayed us. This letter found in his coat pocket, and this German money--the price of our blood--leave no further doubt possible." And here the major read the Prussian colonel's letter.