"Tuesday, November 29th, you were in the shoes of Vinson—is that so?"

"Yes, Commandant."

"Very well. This same Tuesday, November 29th, you were at the Elysée ball as Jérôme Fandor! So you see!"

Dumoulin was triumphant.

"I had twenty-four hours' leave, Commandant—quite regular!" protested Fandor.

"Ah!" growled the commandant, glancing knowingly at Lieutenant Servin, who with impassive countenance was listening to this discussion: "Don't talk to me about leave!... Heaven alone knows how easily you spies succeed in obtaining leave!"

Fandor was about to protest vehemently against being numbered with the spies, when the commandant started another subject.

"Added to this, there is something very serious in your case."

"Good Heavens! What now?" ejaculated Fandor.

Dumoulin looked mysterious.