Hamilton, stern and sententious, stood frowning upon M.Roussillon, who sat upon the ground, his feet and hands tightly bound, a colossal statue of injured innocence.
Alice, as soon as she saw M.Roussillon, uttered a cry of sympathetic endearment and flung herself toward him with open arms.

She could not reach around his great shoulders; but she did her best to include the whole bulk.
"Papa! Papa Roussillon!" she chirruped between the kisses that she showered upon his weather-beaten face.
Hamilton and Farnsworth regarded the scene with curious and surprised interest.

M.Roussillon began speaking rapidly; but being a Frenchman he could not get on well with his tongue while his hands were tied.

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.