is not yours, whose propaganda teaches merciless violence, whose
programme is terror. He is well known in the faubourgs; Belleville is
his, and in the Chateau Rouge he has pointed across the river to the
rich quarters, calling it the promised land! Yet here, at La Trappe,
where your creed is peace and non-resistance, he is welcomed and
harbored, he is deferred to, he is made executive head of a free
commune which he has turned into a despotism ... for his own ends!"

She was gazing at me with dilated eyes, hands holding tight to the
balustrade.

"Did you not know that?" I asked, astonished.

"No," she said.

"You are not aware that John Buckhurst is the soul and centre of the
Belleville Reds?"

"It is--it is false!" she stammered.

"No, madame, it is true. He wears a smug mask here; he has deceived
you all."

She stood there, breathing rapidly, her head high.

"John Buckhurst will answer for himself," she said, steadily.

"When, madame?"

For answer she stepped across the hall and laid one hand against the
blank stone wall. Then, reaching upward, she drew from between the
ponderous blocks little strips of steel, colored like mortar, dropping
them to the stone floor, where they rang out. When she had flung away
the last one, she stepped back and set her frail shoulder to the wall;
instantly a mass of stone swung silently on an unseen pivot, a yellow
light streamed out, and there was a tiny chamber, illuminated by a
lamp, and a man just rising from his chair.

IV

PRISONERS

Instantly I recognized in him the insolent priest who had confronted
me on my way to La Trappe that morning. I knew him, although now he
was wearing neither robe nor shovel-hat, nor those square shoes too
large to buckle closely over his flat insteps.

And he knew me.

He appeared admirably cool and composed, glancing at the Countess for
an instant with an interrogative expression; then he acknowledged my
presence by bowing almost humorously.

"This is Monsieur Scarlett, of the Imperial Military Police," said
the Countess, in a clear voice, ending with that slightly rising
inflection which demands an answer.

"Mr. Buckhurst," I said, "I am an Inspector of Military Police, and
I cannot begin to tell you what a pleasure this meeting is to me."

"I have no doubt of that, monsieur," said Buckhurst, in his smooth,
almost caressing tones. "It, however, inconveniences me a great deal
to cross the frontier to-day, even in your