s
from a file of papers before him--"your name is Paul Robert Le Pontois,
son of Paul Le Pontois, rentier of Severac, Department of Aveyron. During
the war you were captain in the 114th Regiment of Artillery, and you now
reside with your wife and daughter at the Chateau of Lerouville. Are
those details correct?"

"Perfectly, m'sieur," replied the man seated with the two police agents
standing behind him. He wore his black evening trousers and a brown tweed
jacket which one of the detectives had lent him.

"You have been placed under arrest by order of the Ministry," replied
Bezard, speaking in his quick, impetuous way.

"I am aware of that, m'sieur," was Paul's reply, "but I am in ignorance
of the charge against me."

"Well," exclaimed Bezard very gravely, again referring to the formidable
_dossier_ before him, "the charge brought against you is most serious.
It is astounding and disgraceful. Listen, and I will read it. Afterwards
we will hear what explanation you have to offer. We are assembled for
that purpose."

The four other men had taken chairs near by, while Pierrepont was
standing at some distance away, with his back to the wood fire.

For a second Bezard paused, then, rubbing his gold pince-nez and
adjusting them, he read in a cold, hard voice the following:

"The charge alleged against you, Paul Robert Le Pontois, is that upon
four separate occasions you have placed in circulation forged Bank of
England and Treasury notes of England to the extent of nearly a million
francs."

"It's a lie!" cried Paul, jumping to his feet, his face aflame. "Before
God, I swear it is a lie!"

"Calm yourself and listen," commanded the great chief of the Surete
Generale sharply. "Be seated."

The prisoner sank back into his chair again. His head was reeling. Who
could possibly have made such unfounded charges against him? He could
scarcely believe his ears.

Then the hard-faced, white-headed old director, who held supreme command
of the police of the Republic, glanced at him shrewdly, and, continuing,
said: "It is alleged that you, Paul Le Pontois, on the fourteenth day of
January, and again on the sixteenth of May, met in Commercy a certain
Englishman, and handed to him a bundle of English notes since proved to
be forgeries."

"I am not acquainted with any English forger," protested Paul.

"Do not interrupt, m'sieur!" snapped the director. "You will, later on,
be afforded full opportunity to make any statement or