eemed suddenly to become charged with more weight.

"Monsieur Pailleton," he said, "the only thing that France fears is
treachery!"

Pailleton gripped at the back of his chair. The room for a moment swam
before his eyes.

"Is this an insult, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur?" he demanded.

"Take it as an insult if in your heart there is no shadow of treachery
towards the France that is today, towards the cause of the Allies as it
is to-day," was the stern answer.

"I refuse to accept this extraordinary mission," Pailleton declared,
rising to his feet. "You can send whom you will to Brazil. I have
greater affairs before me."

The ambassador shrugged his shoulders.

"I shall not press you," he said. "I shall only put before you the
alternative. You are at this present moment upon French soil. If you
refuse this mission which has been offered to you, I shall detain you
here until I have the means of sending you under escort to France."

"Detain me? On what charge?" Pailleton exclaimed angrily.

"On the charge of treason," was the quiet reply. "I shall have you
stripped and searched in this room. I shall have your luggage and your
room searched at the Milan Hotel. And now, Monsieur Pailleton?"

Once more the man was bewildered. This time, however, it was
bewilderment of a different sort. He thought for a moment steadfastly.
Who was there who could have betrayed him?

"What is the nature of this document, monsieur, which you expect to find
amongst my belongings?" he demanded.

"An authorised offer of peace from Germany to the French people," the
ambassador answered slowly. "It is the second attempt which has been
made. The first was torn into fragments before the face of the person
who had the effrontery to present it. The second, Monsieur Pailleton, is
in your possession. You may keep it if you will. In Brazil you will find
it of little use."

Monsieur Pailleton folded his arms.

"I am a Frenchman," he proclaimed. "What I may do, I do for France."

"You refuse my mission, then?"

"I refuse it."

The ambassador struck a bell upon his table. One of his secretaries
promptly appeared.

"Send Colonel Defarge to me at once," his chief ordered.

There was a brief pause. The ambassador was busy writing at his table.
Pailleton, who was breathing heavily, said nothing. Presently an officer
in French uniform entered.

"Monsieur le Colonel," the ambassador said, stretching out his hand
towards Pailleton, "you will accep