Next second three men in plain clothes and a couple of police-agents in uniform burst into the room, and Adolphe found himself seized roughly and secured.
“Just caught you, my young friend!” laughed the police-commissary, with satisfaction. He wore an overcoat and hard felt hat, and carried in his hand an ebony cane with silver knob.
Adolphe, in the hands of the two other men in plain clothes, made no reply, but at the moment Mme. Brouet entered at the door, with curiosity, to watch the proceedings.
The commissary, noticing the smashed panel of the bedroom door, ran inside, while the men in uniform quickly searched the place.
“Where is ‘The American’?” asked the commissary, of Adolphe. “We know he is here, somewhere. You need not affect innocence, for your hand tells the truth. You and he did the job at the Baron de Rycker’s, and you left a large blood-stain behind. What have you done with the stolen property—eh? Now, out with it! Give it up, and it will be better for you when in court.”
“I haven’t any,” protested the young man. “Ralph has it all.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He locked me in yonder room and got away.”
“Got away with the swag? Ah! Just like ‘The American’! He did that same trick three years ago. I remember a complaint made by one of your fraternity whom I arrested at Versailles,” replied the commissary. “How did he get away?”
Adolphe pointed to where the commissary was standing, and the official, looking down, saw, to his surprise, for the first time, the rusty ring in the floor.