"And it never occurred to you, I suppose, that if the Germans detected any signs of life about the château they would certainly bombard it?"
"My answer to your question, Monsieur, is that we got out of sight the instant we saw the plane."
"But by that time you had probably already been observed."
"I should say it is quite certain that they were," broke in a French lieutenant.
Like a lawyer conducting an examination, he began asking questions, and after becoming acquainted with all the details, like a lawyer summing up, he showed as conclusively as it could be shown under the circumstances that the boys were responsible for the destruction of the château.
Just before he finished speaking the poilu raised his arm, and, with a gesture that embraced all three Americans, cried in a terrible voice:
"And, as a De Morancourt—the nephew of the count—I order your arrest. Lieutenant, take these young men in charge! They shall be made to pay the penalty for their conduct."
"The nephew of the Count de Morancourt!" repeated Don, quite aghast.
The revelation of the man's identity came as a stunning surprise.
The Frenchman's dramatic outburst appeared to relieve his pent-up wrath. The lantern which he held in his hand sent splotches and dashes of yellowish light flitting weirdly from place to place, and presently, noticing the boxes and cases, he uttered a loud exclamation, brushed past them and entered the room.