'Too cunning to put in my portmanteau!' said Goring, in utter bewilderment, and almost inclined to laugh now.
'Sapristi!' exclaimed the other, using that exclamation which is for ever on a Belgian tongue; 'don't repeat my words, insolent! You concealed there these revolutionary papers, the existence of which and your object in coming to Belgium were duly and fortunately reported to the police the moment you stepped upon the Quai Van Dyck.'
'My object—reported—and by whom?'
'I do not precisely know—one of your countrymen, however; it was reported to the gendarme on duty there, and the report proved a true one. Here is a roll of nearly fifty circulars issued by the chiefs of the late French Commune in three languages, one of them being Flemish, inciting a rising against kings and all constituted authorities, which no doubt you intended to distribute here in the cause of liberty, equality, fraternity, and social democracy.'
Goring was so confounded by all this that he remained for a moment or two silent, and then he laughed heartily.
'You will find this no laughing matter—Sapristi?' exclaimed the other, dipping a pen in the ink-bottle. 'Your name, coquin?'
Goring's brow knit at this epithet; so he replied sternly, giving his name and rank.
'Calls himself a British officer, does he?' said the magistrate to the gendarmes, who laughed at it as a joke.
'Were you ever in Belgium before?'
'No.'