"Good-night, Commander!" said the honest fellow, in a gentle voice.
Then he double-locked the door, according to custom, and disappeared whistling a national air. A quarter of an hour later the contractor left the place, and as soon as the functionary who had seen him depart was relieved by another, the prisoner left his hiding-place, crossed the drawbridge in his turn, simulating the gait of his twin, and, without any hindrance, rejoined his orderly at the place agreed upon. The trick was played!
A matter of twenty kilometres was a mere trifle for infantry troopers. They walked as lightly as gymnasts, under a clear sky, through the fields, guided by the lights in the farmhouses, and at nine o'clock, having passed the frontier, they stumbled upon a post of Cossacks ambuscaded behind a hedge!
Unfortunately, at that time the Franco-Russian alliance was still in embryo, and an agreement between the two neighboring States interdicted all passage to Frenchmen escaping from the hands of their conquerors. The two deserters were therefore conducted to the major of the nearest garrison, who alone had the right to question them.
As soon as they were in his presence, Henri could not restrain a start of surprise, for he recognized Constantin Lenaieff, one of his adversaries on the fatal night of the Freres-Provencaux.
"Who are you?" demanded the Major, brusquely.
"A dealer in Belgian cattle, purveyor to the German intendant," hazarded the prisoner, who had his reply all prepared.
"You—nonsense! You are a French officer; that is plain enough to be seen, in spite of your disguise."
The Major advanced a step in order to examine the prisoner more closely.
"Good heavens!" he muttered, "I can not be mistaken—"