He was a tall, powerful, handsome gentleman, with a military appearance.
Just now he was smiling down into the face of a young lady.
"Monsieur Barberoux is quite right," he was saying in a loud, cheerful voice, "our English law is too kind to the criminal, especially to the murderer.

If we conducted our trials in the French fashion, the place we have just left would be very much fuller than it is to-day.

A man of whose guilt we are absolutely assured is oftener than not acquitted, and then the public taunt us with 'another undiscovered crime!'" "D'you mean, Sir John, that murderers sometimes escape scot-free?
Take the man who has been committing all these awful murders this last month?
I suppose there's no doubt he'll be hanged--if he's ever caught, that is!" Her girlish voice rang out, and Mrs.Bunting could hear every word that was said.
The whole party gathered round, listening eagerly.

"Well, no." He spoke very deliberately.

"I doubt if that particular murderer ever will be hanged." "You mean that you'll never catch him ?" the girl spoke with a touch of airy impertinence in her clear voice.
"I think we shall end by catching him--because"-- he waited a moment, then added in a lower voice--"now don't give me away to a newspaper fellow, Miss Rose--because now I think we do know who the murderer in question is--" Several of those standing near by uttered expressions of surprise and incredulity.
"Then why don't you catch him ?" cried the girl indignantly.
"I didn't say we knew where he was; I only said we knew who he was, or, rather, perhaps I ought to say that I personally have a very strong suspicion of his identity." Sir John's French colleague looked up quickly.