Unconscious of the crisis he interrupted, the orderly on duty opened the door.

“Captain Thierry’s compliments,” he recited mechanically, “and is he to delay longer for Madame d’Aurillac?”

With a sharp gesture General Andre waved Marie toward the door.  Without rising, he inclined his head.  “Adieu, madame,” he said.  “We act at once upon your information.  I thank you!”

As she crossed from the hall to the terrace, the ears of the spy were assaulted by a sudden tumult of voices.  They were raised in threats and curses.  Looking back, she saw Anfossi descending the stairs.  His hands were held above his head; behind him, with his automatic, the staff officer she had surprised on the fourth floor was driving him forward.  Above the clenched fists of the soldiers that ran to meet him, the eyes of Anfossi were turned toward her.  His face was expressionless.  His eyes neither accused nor reproached.  And with the joy of one who has looked upon and then escaped the guillotine, Marie ran down the steps to the waiting automobile.  With a pretty cry of pleasure she leaped into the seat beside Thierry.  Gayly she threw out her arms.  “To Paris!” she commanded.  The handsome eyes of Thierry, eloquent with admiration, looked back into hers.  He stooped, threw in the clutch, and the great gray car, with the machine gun and its crew of privates guarding the rear, plunged through the park.

“To Paris!” echoed Thierry.

In the order in which Marie had last seen them, Anfossi and the staff officer entered the room of General Andre, and upon the soldiers in the hall the door was shut.  The face of the staff officer was grave, but his voice could not conceal his elation.

“My general,” he reported, “I found this man in the act of giving information to the enemy.  There is a wireless—­”

General Andre rose slowly.  He looked neither at the officer nor at his prisoner.  With frowning eyes he stared down at the maps upon his table.

“I know,” he interrupted.  “Some one has already told me.”  He paused, and then, as though recalling his manners, but still without raising his eyes, he added:  “You have done well, sir.”

In silence the officers of the staff stood motionless.  With surprise they noted that, as yet, neither in anger nor curiosity had General Andre glanced at the prisoner.  But of the presence of the general the spy was most acutely conscious.  He stood erect, his arms still raised, but his body strained forward, and on the averted eyes of the general his own were fixed.

In an agony of supplication they asked a question.

At last, as though against his wish, toward the spy the general turned his head, and their eyes met.  And still General Andre was silent.  Then the arms of the spy, like those of a runner who has finished his race and breasts the tape exhausted, fell to his sides.  In a voice low and vibrant he spoke his question.