"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. Floçon 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. Floçon.

"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