-Vinson must be
kept in ignorance of the truth till they were on French soil.

Captain Loreuil had remained at Dover, declaring he still had much to
do in England. Besides, he could not be brought to consider that to
arrest criminals came within the scope of his duties: to mark them
down, point them out, yes. Thus he had tracked down the traitor and
left him in good hands.

Meanwhile, Butler-Vinson was suffering from a severe attack of
sea-sickness. His head seemed splitting with throbbing pain.

"How long shall we be getting across?" he asked in a faint voice.

"Three hours," said Juve: this was the crossing time between Dover and
Ostend.

Heavy cross-seas were running. Those who braved the buffetings and
drenchings above deck were now few: it was a villainous crossing!

At the end of an hour and a half the odious waltz of the steamer
slowed down. The fog-horn was silent: the _Empress_ moved alongside
the jetties of Calais.

The gangways were let down; porters invaded the deck, carrying away
luggage to the trains awaiting the travellers in the terminus station.

"Now for it!" thought Juve.

Once on French soil it was all up with the liberty of Corporal Vinson!
His arrest would be immediate.

Juve considered the miserable heap collapsed on a side bench: this
traitorous rag of humanity had once been an upright man--a true
soldier of France! It was terrible! It was piteous!

Juve raised Butler-Vinson. The wretched fellow could hardly stand up.
Juve signed to a sailor, who took the corporal's left arm while Juve
supported him on the right. Vinson disembarked. He set his feet on the
soil--the sacred soil of France!

The crowd was pouring into the great hall, where customs officers were
examining the small baggage.

Juve drew Butler-Vinson to the left: the traitor must not catch sight
of the French uniforms. An individual seemed to rise out of the ground
in front of them: Juve said to him in a low voice:

"Our man!"

* * * * *

Revived by a cordial, Vinson gradually recovered his senses. Painfully
he raised his heavy eyelids: he looked about him curiously, anxiously.
He was in a large, square room, dimly lighted, almost empty, with bare
white walls.

"Where am I?" he asked Juve. Three men surrounded him. Juve's was the
sole face he knew.

Juve wore a solemn look: his words were gently spoken.

"You are at Calais, in the special police quarters connected with the
statio