“He deserves to be scragged, the beast!” went on the General, as with one sharp turn of the wrist he threw the guard off, and sent him flying nearly across the room, where, being free at last, the Frenchman drew his sword and brandished it threateningly—­from a distance.

But M. Flocon interposed with uplifted hand and insisted upon an explanation.

“It is just this,” replied Sir Charles, speaking fast and with much fierceness:  “that lady there—­poor thing, she is ill, you can see that for yourself, suffering, overwrought; she asked for a glass of water, and this brute, triple brute, as you say in French, refused to bring it.”

“I could not leave the room,” protested the guard.  “My orders were precise.”

“So I was going to fetch the water,” went on the General angrily, eying the guard as though he would like to make another grab at him, “and this fellow interfered.”

“Very properly,” added M. Flocon.

“Then why didn’t he go himself, or call some one?  Upon my word, monsieur, you are not to be complimented upon your people, nor your methods.  I used to think that a Frenchman was gallant, courteous, especially to ladies.”

The Chief looked a little disconcerted, but remembering what he knew against this particular lady, he stiffened and said severely, “I am responsible for my conduct to my superiors, and not to you.  Besides, you appear to forget your position.  You are here, detained—­all of you”—­he spoke to the whole room—­“under suspicion.  A ghastly crime has been perpetrated—­by some one among you—­”

“Do not be too sure of that,” interposed the irrepressible General.

“Who else could be concerned?  The train never stopped after leaving Laroche,” said the detective, allowing himself to be betrayed into argument.

“Yes, it did,” corrected Sir Charles, with a contemptuous laugh; “shows how much you know.”

Again the Chief looked unhappy.  He was on dangerous ground, face to face with a new fact affecting all his theories,—­if fact it was, not mere assertion, and that he must speedily verify.  But nothing was to be gained—­much, indeed, might be lost—­by prolonging this discussion in the presence of the whole party.  It was entirely opposed to the French practice of investigation, which works secretly, taking witnesses separately, one by one, and strictly preventing all intercommunication or collusion among them.

“What I know or do not know is my affair,” he said, with an indifference he did not feel.  “I shall call upon you, M. le General, for your statement in due course, and that of the others.”  He bowed stiffly to the whole room.  “Every one must be interrogated.  M. le Juge is now here, and he proposes to begin, madame, with you.”

The Countess gave a little start, shivered, and turned very pale.

“Can’t you see she is not equal to it?” cried the General, hotly.  “She has not yet recovered.  In the name of—­I do not say chivalry, for that would be useless—­but of common humanity, spare madame, at least for the present.”