The only chagrin he felt was that the chauffeur had overheard all the conversation. And to him he said: "Remember, Gallet, of this affair you know nothing."
"I understand perfectly, m'sieur," was the wondering soldier's reply.
Then they sat in silence in the darkness until the hurrying police agent returned, after which the car sped straight past the château on the high road which led through the deep valley on to the fortress town of Verdun.
As they passed the château Paul Le Pontois caught a glimpse of its lighted windows and sat wondering what Blanche would imagine. He pictured the pleasant supper party and the surprise that would be expressed at his absence.
How amusing! What incongruity! He was under arrest!
The car rushed on beneath the precipitous hill crowned by the great fortress of Haudiomont, through the narrow gorge—the road to Paris.
All three men, seated abreast, were silent until, at last, the elder of the two police agents bent and glanced at the clock on the dashboard, visible by the tiny glow-lamp.
"Half past twelve," he remarked. "The express leaves Verdun at two twenty-eight."
"For Paris."