Triumphantly Hepburn carried his purchases back to the quay, and threw them into the outstretched arms of Warkworth.
"Since you've made such a success of your expedition, Alan," said Mr. Armitage, "I wish you'd take these letters to the postoffice. Remember to put a five centimes stamp on each. By the time you return breakfast will be ready."
Alan took the envelopes, reascended the ladder, and crossed the pavé-covered quay. After wandering for some distance without finding the post-office, it occurred to him to inquire the way.
A magnificently uniformed gendarme was walking down the street. Alan went up to him and saluted Scout fashion, and the gendarme replied with an elaborate military salute.
"Au poste, monsieur!" exclaimed Hepburn, sure of his ground this time.
"Mais oui certainement," was the reply. "Par ici, monsieur."
The gendarme escorted Alan, and a steadily increasing crowd of idlers and children followed the pair. Hepburn felt rather elated. It was his Sea Scout's rig, he decided, that was such an attraction.
Throwing his shoulders back and holding his head high, he walked proudly by the side of his uniformed guide.
But he felt far from elated when the gendarme led him through a doorway into a low-ceilinged room where half a dozen armed men were standing. The door closed behind him, a gendarme planted his back against it, and half a dozen pairs of eyes were fixed upon the now astonished lad.
One thing was certain. Instead of being taken to the post-office, he had been shown into the police-station. It was an easy matter to enter, but would it be so easy to get out?