Monsieur, you accuse me of
assassinating my friend," he violently said.

"I do not accuse; I ask a question." And M. Ginory in a dry tone which
gradually became cutting and menacing said: "I question you, but I warn
you that the interview has taken a bad turn. You do not answer; you
pretend to keep secret I know not what information which concerns us.
You are not yet exactly accused. But--but--but--you are going to be"----

The Magistrate waited a moment as if to give the man time to reflect,
and he held his pen suspended, after dipping it in the ink, as an
auctioneer holds his ivory hammer before bringing it down to close a
sale. "I am going to drop the pen," it seemed to say. Dantin, very
angry, remained silent. His look of bravado seemed to say: "Do you
dare? If you dare, do it!"

"You refuse to speak?" asked Ginory for the last time.

"I refuse."

"You have willed it! Do you persist in giving no explanation; do you
entrench yourself behind I know not what scruple or duty to honor; do
you keep to your systematic silence? For the last time, do you still
persist in this?"

"I have nothing--nothing--nothing to tell you!" Dantin cried in a sort
of rage.

"Oh, well! Jacques Dantin," and the Magistrate's voice was grave and
suddenly solemn. "You are from this moment arrested." The pen, uplifted
till this instant, fell upon the paper. It was an order for arrest. The
registrar looked at the man. Jacques Dantin did not move. His expression
seemed vague, the fixed expression of a person who dreams with wide-open
eyes. M. Ginory touched one of the electric buttons above his table and
pointed Dantin out to the guards, whose shakos suddenly darkened the
doorway. "Take away the prisoner," he said shortly and mechanically,
and, overcome, without revolt, Jacques Dantin allowed himself to be led
through the corridors of the Palais, saying nothing, comprehending
nothing, stumbling occasionally, like an intoxicated man or a
somnambulist.

CHAPTER XI.

M. BERNARDET was triumphant. He went home to dinner in a jubilant mood.
His three little girls, dressed alike, clasped him round the neck, all
at the same time, while Mme. Bernardet, always fresh, smiling and gay,
held up her face with its soft, round, rosy cheeks to him.

"My little ones," said the officer, "I believe that I have done well,
and that my chief will advance me or give me some acknowledgment. I will
buy you some bracelets,