Again Jones smiled.

“This is absurd, sir,” he remarked.

The officer returned the smile, but rather grimly.

“It is the usual protest, Mr. Andrews.  I don’t blame you for the denial, but the evidence against you is very strong.  Will you come?  And quietly?”

“I am unable to offer physical resistance,” replied the young fellow, as he slowly rose from his chair and displayed his thin figure.  “Moreover,” he added, with a touch of humor, “I believe there’s a fine for resisting an officer.  I suppose you have a legal warrant.  May I be permitted to see it?”

The officer produced the warrant.  Jones perused it slowly and then handed it to Mr. Merrick, who read it and passed it back to the officer.

“What shall I do, sir?” asked the boy.

“Obey the law,” answered Uncle John.  “This officer is only the law’s instrument and it is useless to argue with him.  But I will go with you to the police station and furnish bail.”

Le Drieux shook his head.

“Quite impossible, Mr. Merrick,” he said.  “This is not a bailable offense.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive.  This is an extradition case, of international importance.  Andrews, after an examination, will be taken to New York and from there to Vienna, where his crime was committed.”

“But he has committed no crime!”

Le Drieux shrugged his shoulders.

“He is accused, and he must prove his innocence,” said he.

“But that is nonsense!” interposed Arthur warmly.  “There is no justice in such an assertion.  If I know anything of the purpose of the law, and I think I do, you must first prove this man’s guilt before you carry him to Austria to be tried by a foreign court.”

“I don’t care a snap for the purpose of the law,” retorted Le Drieux.  “Our treaty with Austria provides for extradition, and that settles it.  This man is already under arrest.  The judge who issued the warrant believes that Jones is Jack Andrews and that Jack Andrews stole the pearls from the Countess Ahmberg.  Of course, the prisoner will have a formal examination, when he may defend himself as best he can, but we haven’t made this move without being sure of our case, and it will be rather difficult for him to escape the penalty of his crimes, clever as he is.”

“Clever?” It was Jones himself who asked this, wonderingly.

Le Drieux bowed to him with exaggerated politeness.

“I consider you the cleverest rogue in existence,” said he.  “But even the cleverest may be trapped, in time, and your big mistake was in disposing of those pearls so openly.  See here,” he added, taking from his pocket a small packet.  “Here are the famous Taprobane pearls—­six of them—­which were found in your room a half hour ago.  They, also, were a part of the countess’ collection.”

“Oh, you have been to my room?”

“Under the authority of the law.”