"Halt, or I fire!"
It was Mazeroux, who had scrambled to his feet and now stood with his revolver in his hand and a determined expression on his face.
Don Luis stopped in amazement. The threat was absolutely indifferent to him, and the barrel of that revolver aimed at him left him as cold as could be. But by what prodigy did Mazeroux, his former accomplice, his ardent disciple, his devoted servant, by what prodigy did Mazeroux dare to act as he was doing?
Perenna went up to him and pressed gently on the detective's outstretched arm.
"Prefect's orders?" he asked.
"Yes," muttered the sergeant, uncomfortably.
"Orders to keep me here until he comes?"
"Yes."
"And if I betrayed an intention of leaving, to prevent me?"
"Yes."
"By every means?"
"Yes."
"Even by putting a bullet through my skin?"
"Yes"
Perenna reflected; and then, in a serious voice:
"Would you have fired, Mazeroux?"
The sergeant lowered his head and said faintly:
"Yes, Chief."
Perenna looked at him without anger, with a glance of affectionage sympathy; and it was an absorbing sight for him to see his former companion dominated by such a sense of discipline and duty. Nothing was able to prevail against that sense, not even the fierce admiration, the
