You, monsieur, you will oblige me by staying here."

Sir Charles nodded carelessly, took the first chair that offered,
and sat down by the fire.

He was to all intents and purposes in custody, and he examined his
gaoler at first wrathfully, then curiously, struck with his rather
strange figure and appearance. Baume, as the Chief had called him,
was a short, thick-set man with a great shock head sunk in low
between a pair of enormous shoulders, betokening great physical
strength; he stood on very thin but greatly twisted bow legs, and
the quaintness of his figure was emphasized by the short black
blouse or smock-frock he wore over his other clothes like a French
artisan.

He was a man of few words, and those not the most polite in tone,
for when the General began with a banal remark about the weather,
M. Baume replied, shortly:

"I wish to have no talk;" and when Sir Charles pulled out his
cigarette-case, as he did almost automatically from time to time
when in any situation of annoyance or perplexity, Baume raised his
hand warningly and grunted:

"Not allowed."

"Then I'll be hanged if I don't smoke in spite of every man jack
of you!" cried the General, hotly, rising from his seat and
speaking unconsciously in English.