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 "Arrest me? Why, that is—ridiculous! On what charge?"

Franz von Kreuzenach looked at her in a pitiful way.

"A terrible charge. Espionage and conspiracy against German martial law I would rather have died than do this—duty."

Eileen told us that he spoke that word "duty" as only a German could—as that law which for a German officer is above all human things, all kindly relationships, all escape. She pitied him then, more, she said, than she was afraid for herself, and told him that she was sorry the duty had fallen to him. He made only one other remark before he took her away from her rooms.

"I pray God the evidence will be insufficient."

There was a military car waiting outside the courtyard, and he opened the door for her to get in, and sat opposite to her. The two soldiers sat together next to the driver, squeezed close—they were both stout men—with their rifles between their knees. It was dark in the streets of Lille, and in the car. Eileen could only see the officer's face vaguely, and white. He spoke again as they were driven quickly.

"I have to search your rooms to-night. Have you destroyed your papers?"

He seemed to have no doubt about her guilt, but she would not admit it.

"I have no papers of which I am afraid."

"That is well," said Franz von Kreuzenach.

He told her that the Baronne de Villers-Auxicourt and Marcelle Barbier had been arrested also, and that news was like a death-blow to the girl. It showed that their conspiracy had been revealed, and she was stricken at the thought of the fate awaiting her friends, those young, delicate girls who had been so brave in taking risks.

Towards the end of the journey, which was not far,