"In here?" asked my lord; and with a brief wave of his hand he would
have passed in first, but the officers of the law put him rather
rudely aside and claimed precedence for their prisoner.
But when M. le Commissaire, who was there, seated at a table opposite
his _greffier_, rose and bowed stiffly, inquiring our business, my
lord pushed forward into the front and began very warmly, in passable
French:
"I am an aggrieved person seeking justice on a wrong-doer. I--demand
justice of you--"
"_Pardon, monsieur, je vous prie._ We must proceed in order, and first
allow me to assure you that justice is always done in France. No one
need claim it in the tone you have assumed."
The Commissary was a solemn person, full of the stiff formality
exhibited by members of the French magistracy, the juniors especially.
He was dressed in discreet black, his clean-shaven, imperturbable face
showed over a stiff collar, and he wore the conventional white tie of
the French official.
"Allow me to ask--" he went on coldly.
"I will explain in a few words," began my lord, replying hurriedly.
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