"Very well," said Bézard, with some hesitation. "Let us pass to the eighth of April. At six o'clock that morning you drove to Thillot-sous-les-Côtes, where you met a stranger at the entrance to the village, and walked with him, and held a long and earnest conversation."
Paul was silent for a moment. The incident recalled was one that he would fain have forgotten, one the truth of which he intended at all hazards to conceal.
"I admit that I went to Thillot in secret," he answered in a changed voice.
"Ah! Then you do not deny that you were attracted by the promises of substantial payment for certain forged English notes which you could furnish, eh?" grunted Bézard in satisfaction.
"I admit going to Thillot, but I deny your allegation," cried Paul in quick protest.
"Then perhaps you will tell us the reason you took that early drive?" asked a commissaire, with a short, hard laugh of disbelief.
The prisoner hesitated. It was a purely personal matter, one which concerned himself alone.
"I regret, messieurs," was his slow reply, "I regret that I am unable—indeed, I am not permitted to answer that question."
"Pray why?" inquired Bézard.
"Well—because it concerns a woman's honour," was the low, hoarse reply, "the honour of the wife of a certain officer."
