"Because it is necessary," was his businesslike reply. Then he added: "I regret, m'sieur, that you must consider yourself under arrest by order of his Excellency the Minister of Justice."
"Arrest!" gasped the unhappy man. "Are you mad, messieurs?"
"No," replied the man who had spoken.
"We have merely our duty to perform, and have travelled from Paris to execute it."
"With what offence am I charged?" Le Pontois demanded.
"Of that we have no knowledge. As agents of secret police, we are sent here to convey you for interrogation."
The man under arrest stood dumbfounded.
"But at least you will allow me to say farewell to my wife and child—to make excuse to them for my absence?" he urged.
"I regret that is quite impossible, m'sieur. Our orders are to make the arrest and to afford you no opportunity to communicate with anyone."
"But this is cruel, inhuman! His Excellency never meant that, I am quite sure—especially when I am innocent of any crime, as far as I am aware."