"Dourlowski, of course!"
"Dourlowski?"
"Why, yes! From the first minute, I guessed that it was a trap, a trap contrived by inferior police-agents. But how was it laid? I see it now. Dourlowski came here yesterday, on some pretext or other. He knew that Jorancé and I would take the frontier-road in the evening; and the passing of the deserter was contrived to take place at that moment, in connivance with the German detectives! One of them whistles as soon as we come up; and the soldier, who has been told, of course, that this whistle is a signal from the French accomplices, the soldier, whom Dourlowski or his confederates hold in a leash, like a dog, the soldier is let go. That's the whole mystery! It was not he, the poor wretch, whom they were after, but Jorancé and Morestal. Morestal, right enough, flies to the rescue of the fugitive. They collar him, they lay hold of Jorancé; and there we are, accomplices both. Bravo, gentlemen! Well played!"
Mme. Morestal murmured:
"But, I say, it might be a serious thing ..."
"For Jorancé," he replied, "yes, because he is in custody; only—there is an 'only'—the pursuit of the deserter took place on French soil. We also were arrested on French soil. It was a flagrant violation of the frontier. So there's nothing to be afraid of."
"You think so?" asked Suzanne. "You think that my father ...?"
"Nothing to be afraid of," repeated Morestal. And he declared, positively, "I look upon Jorancé as free."
"Tut, tut!" mumbled the old lady. "Things won't go so fast as that."
"Once more, I look upon Jorancé as free and for this good reason, that the frontier has been violated."