“I have reason to believe, Herr Amelungen, that you hold in your hands some, if not all, of the chief meshes of a widespread net of espionage.  And I think it would be to your interest to tell me the whole truth of your own accord.  We know so much already that presumably it will be of little use to you to have recourse to lies.”

Amelungen played with his penholder, but his hands trembled visibly, and words failed him.  His face had turned ashy pale, and Heideck could not help feeling sorry for him.

“I regret that my duty obliges me to proceed against you,” he continued.  “I can easily understand your motives.  You are a Netherlander and a patriot, and, as perhaps you do not quite understand the political situation, the occupation of your country by a foreign power appears to you an act of violence, which fills you with anger and hatred against us.  Therefore I think I may promise you that you will be treated as leniently as possible, if you make my task easy by an open confession.”

Eberhard Amelungen shook his head.

“I know nothing of what you charge me with,” he said feebly.  “You have the power, and can do as you please with me.  But I have nothing to confess.”

“Not if I tell you that my information comes from the mouth of your own son?”

The merchant stared at the speaker with wide-open eyes full of anxiety.

“From the mouth of my own son?  But—­I have no son.”

“Then M. Camille Penurot also was lying when he said you were his father?”

“For God’s sake be merciful!  Don’t torture me!  What is the matter with Camille?  Where is he?”

“He has been caught spying.  What will happen to him depends on your own behaviour.”

Eberhard Amelungen sank back in his stool in a state of collapse.

“My God! you don’t mean to put him in prison? or to shoot him?”

“As you may imagine, his fate is not in my hands alone.  But in this instance my influence may perhaps be considerable, and it would certainly have weight if I threw it into the scale in your favour and his.  Therefore I again ask you to consider whether, as things are, it would not be best for you to be perfectly frank with me.  Those who are behind you can no longer protect you, and your only hope lies in the leniency of the German authorities.  Do not reject the possibility of securing this leniency.”

The merchant was evidently carrying on a severe struggle with himself.  After a few moments he raised his head, and in an altered, defiant tone replied—­

“Do what you like with me, I have nothing to confess.”

Heideck then assumed a sterner, official demeanour.

“Then you must not complain if I begin to search your house.”

“Do as you think fit.  The victor can take what liberties he pleases.”