"I comprehend," laughed the officer, "and you are not at all at fault. I regret to say, however, that since the war began no busses are run in the streets of Paris. We shall be compelled to walk."
Leaving the Grey Eagle in charge of the two men detailed to protect their precious property, the boys set off at a brisk walk in company with their new-found friend, and were soon standing before the desk in a police station. A white-haired sergeant confronted them.
A glance at the kindly expression in his eyes told the boys that they would not fare illy at his hands. Ned determined to confide fully in the officer and to tell him the object of their visit.
Immediately upon arriving the officer who had accompanied them conferred with his superior in a low tone, using the French tongue. Watching closely, the boys were convinced that his report was not unfavorable.
At length the elderly sergeant made an entry in a book, and then addressed the boys. His manner was dignified, yet conciliatory.
"Very much to my regret, gentlemen, I have to inform you that, although your passports and identification seem to be perfectly proper, there is lodged with the police department a complaint that you are here seeking information that would be put to improper use."
"In other words," Ned put in, as the sergeant paused, "we are suspected, and perhaps accused, of being here as spies!"
"I don't like to use just that term," returned the sergeant, and then added: "But, after all, a name matters very little."
"Your informant," spoke up Jimmie, "is probably well known to us. We have had dealings with him before this. You may not believe it, but we know him to be not only a thorough rascal, but a traitor as well!"
This statement was received by the sergeant with considerable astonishment. His glance at Jimmie was plainly a question.