“It seems an absurd regulation,” said I, “but I will put on my dress-suit.”
“We will await you outside your door; but let me warn you, should you attempt to escape through your window, you will be shot in a hundred places,” said the officer, and retired with his minions.
The whole population of the hotel were in the corridors through which I had presently to pass with my custodians, and they pressed after us to the street. A closed carriage stood there, with four horses attached, each “near” horse bearing a postilion.
Three other horses, saddled, were tied to posts about the hotel entrance. These the gendarmes mounted.
“Will you enter the carriage?” said the officer.
But my spirit rose in arms. “I insist upon knowing what I’m arrested for. I want to understand the definite nature of the charge against me.”
“I am not a magistrate. Will you kindly enter the carriage?”
“Oh, this is a downright outrage,” I declared, and entered the carriage.
The officer leaped in after me, the door was slammed to, the postilions yelled at their horses, off we drove, followed by the rhythmical clank-clank of the gendarmes.
“I should like to get at the meaning of all this, you know,” I informed my captor.