“Good-night, Commander!” said the honest fellow, in a gentle voice.

Then he double-locked the door, according to custom, and disappeared whistling a national air.  A quarter of an hour later the contractor left the place, and as soon as the functionary who had seen him depart was relieved by another, the prisoner left his hiding-place, crossed the drawbridge in his turn, simulating the gait of his twin, and, without any hindrance, rejoined his orderly at the place agreed upon.  The trick was played!

A matter of twenty kilometres was a mere trifle for infantry troopers.  They walked as lightly as gymnasts, under a clear sky, through the fields, guided by the lights in the farmhouses, and at nine o’clock, having passed the frontier, they stumbled upon a post of Cossacks ambuscaded behind a hedge!

Unfortunately, at that time the Franco-Russian alliance was still in embryo, and an agreement between the two neighboring States interdicted all passage to Frenchmen escaping from the hands of their conquerors.  The two deserters were therefore conducted to the major of the nearest garrison, who alone had the right to question them.

As soon as they were in his presence, Henri could not restrain a start of surprise, for he recognized Constantin Lenaieff, one of his adversaries on the fatal night of the Freres-Provencaux.

“Who are you?” demanded the Major, brusquely.

“A dealer in Belgian cattle, purveyor to the German intendant,” hazarded the prisoner, who had his reply all prepared.

“You—­nonsense!  You are a French officer; that is plain enough to be seen, in spite of your disguise.”

The Major advanced a step in order to examine the prisoner more closely.

“Good heavens!” he muttered, “I can not be mistaken—­”

He made a sign to his soldiers to retire, then, turning to Henri, he said: 

“You are the Marquis de Prerolles!” and he extended his hand cordially to the former companion of his pleasures.

In a few words Henri explained to him the situation.

“My fate is in your hands,” he concluded.  “Decide it!”

“You are too good a player at this game not to win it,” Lenaieff replied, “and I am not a Paul Landry, to dispute it with you.  Here is a letter of safe-conduct made out in due form; write upon it any name you choose.  As for myself, I regard you absolutely as a Belgian citizen, and I shall make no report of this occurrence.  Only, let me warn you, as a matter of prudence, you would do well not to linger in this territory, and if you need money—­”

“I thank you!” replied the nobleman, quickly, declining with his customary proud courtesy.  “But I never shall forget the service you have rendered me!”

A few moments later, the two travellers drove away in a carriage toward the nearest railway, in order to reenter France by way of Vienna and Turin.

They passed the Austrian and Italian frontiers without difficulty; but at the station at Modena a too-zealous detective of the French police, struck with the Alsatian accent of the orderly, immediately decided that they were two Prussian spies, and refused to allow them to proceed, since they could show him no passports.