But Wraxton did not appear.  Suddenly the captain thought of one man who might be of service to him in this emergency.  There was no time for delay.  Some one must come, and come quickly, who could identify him, and the only man he could think of was Professor Barre, Ralph’s tutor.  He had met that gentleman the evening before.  He could vouch for him, and he could certainly be trusted not to alarm Edna unnecessarily.  He believed the professor could be found at the hotel, and he instantly sent a messenger to him with a note.

It took a good deal of time to bring the prisoner Banker to the station, and Professor Barre arrived there before him.  The professor was amazed to find Captain Horn under arrest, and unable to give any reason for this state of things.  But it was not long before the magistrate appeared, and it so happened that he was acquainted with Barre, who was a well-known man in Paris, and, after glancing at the captain, he addressed himself to the professor, speaking in French.  The latter immediately inquired the nature of the charges against Captain Horn, using the same language.

“Ah! you know him?” said the magistrate.  “He has been accused of being the leader of a band of outlaws—­a man who has committed murders and outrages without number, one who should not be suffered to go at large, one who should be confined until the authorities of Peru, where his crimes were committed, have been notified.”

The professor stared, but could not comprehend what he had heard.

“What is it?” inquired Captain Horn.  “Can you not speak English?”

No, this Parisian magistrate could not speak English, but the professor explained the charge.

“It is the greatest absurdity!” exclaimed the captain.  “Ralph told me that a man, evidently once one of that band of outlaws in Peru, had been arrested for assaulting Cheditafa, and this charge must be part of his scheme of vengeance for that arrest.  I could instantly prove everything that is necessary to know about me if my banker, Mr. Wraxton, were here.  I have sent for him, but he has not come.  I have not a moment to waste discussing this matter.”  The captain gazed anxiously toward the door, and for a few moments the three men stood in silence.

The situation was a peculiar one.  The professor thought of sending to the Hotel Grenade, but he hesitated.  He said to himself:  “The lady’s testimony would be of no avail.  If he is the man the bandit says he is, of course she does not know it.  His conduct has been very strange, and for a long time she certainly knew very little about him.  I don’t see how even his banker could become surety for him if he were here, and he doesn’t seem inclined to come.  Anybody may have a bank-account.”

The professor stood looking on the ground.  The captain looked at him, and, by that power to read the thoughts of others which an important emergency often gives to a man, he read, or believed he did, the thoughts of Barre.  He did not blame the man for his doubts.  Any one might have such doubts.  A stranger coming to France with a cargo of gold must expect suspicion, and here was more—­a definite charge.