He could shrug his shoulders; that helped him
some.
"I am to be shot, MA PETITE," he pathetically growled in his deep
bass voice; "shot like a dog at sunrise to-morrow."
Alice kissed M. Roussillon's rough cheek once more and sprang to
her feet facing Hamilton.
"You are not such a fiend and brute as to kill Papa Roussillon,"
she cried. "Why do you want to injure my poor, good papa?"
"I believe you are the young lady that stole the flag?" Hamilton
remarked, smiling contemptuously.
She looked at him with a swift flash of indignation as he uttered
these words.
"I am not a thief. I could not steal what was my own. I helped to
make that flag. It was named after me. I took it because it was
mine. You understand me, Monsieur."
"Tell where it is and your father's life will be spared."
She glanced at M. Roussillon.
"No, Alice," said he, with a pathetically futile effort to make a
fine gesture, "don't do it. I am brave enough to die. You would
not have me act the coward."
No onlooker would have even remotely suspected the fact that M.
Roussillon had chanced to overhear a conversation between Hamilton
and Farnsworth, in which Hamilton stated that he really did not
intend to hurt M. Roussillon in any event; he merely purposed to
humiliate the "big wind-bag!"
"Ah, no; let me die bravely for honor's sake--I fear death far
less than dishonor! They can shoot me, my little one, but they
cannot break my proud spirit.
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