The author of the noisy alarm, he who had given the cry, saw himself outdistanced and ignored by the pursuing streams of people which he had just called forth.  Ferragut, always running, remained behind the negro sharpshooters, the stevedores, the harbor guard, the seamen that were hastening from all sides crowding in the alleyways between the boxes and bundles....  They were like the greyhounds that follow the windings of the forest, making the stag come out in the open field, like the ferrets that slip along through the subterranean valleys, obliging the hare to return to the light of day.  The fugitive, surrounded in a labyrinth of passageways, colliding with enemies at every turn, came running out through the opposite end and continued his race the whole length of the wharf.  The chase lasted but a few instants after coming out on ground free of obstacles.  “A spy!...”  The voice, more rapid than the legs, out distanced him.  The cries of the pursuers warned the people who were working afar off, without understanding the alarm.

Suddenly the fugitive was within a concave semi-circle of men who were awaiting him firmly, and a convex semi-circle following his footsteps in irregular pursuit.  The two multitudes, closing their extremes, united and the spy was a prisoner.

Ferragut saw that he was intensely pale, panting, casting his eyes around him with the expression of an animal at bay, but still thinking of the possibility of defending himself.

His right hand was feeling around one of his pockets.  Perhaps he was going to draw out a revolver in order to die, defending himself.  A negro nearby raised a beam of wood which he was grasping as a club.  The spy’s hand, displaying a bit of paper between the fingers, was hastily raised toward his mouth; but the negro’s blow, suspended in the air, fell upon his arm, making it hang inert.  The spy bit his lips in order to keep back a roar of pain.

The paper had rolled upon the ground and several hands at once tried to pick it up.  A petty officer smoothed it out before examining it.  It was a piece of thin paper sketched with the outline of the Mediterranean.  The entire sea was laid out in squares like a chess board and in the center of each of these squares there was a number.  These squares were charted sections whose numbers made the submarines know, by wireless, where they were to lie in wait for the allied vessels and torpedo them.

Another officer explained rapidly to the people crowding close, the importance of the discovery.  “Indeed he was a spy!” This affirmation awakened the joy of capture and that impulsive desire for vengeance that at certain times crazes a crowd.

The men from the boats were the most furious, for the very reason that they were constantly encountering the treacherous submarine traps.  “Ah, the bandit!...”  Many cudgelings fell upon him, making him stagger under their blows.

When the prisoner was protected by the breasts of various sub-officers, Ferragut could see him close by, with one temple spotted with blood and a cold and haughty expression in his eye.  Then he realized that the prisoner had dyed his hair.