He bowed.
“After that, monsieur, I am glad to add, they were all very properly hanged.
“But, monsieur, permit me to return to my question: Do you think any intelligent tribunal on this earth would acquit Bough of Oak of the murder of Corporal Flint under the conditions I have indicated?”
“No,” said the American. “It would be a cold-blooded murder; and in the end the creature would be executed.”
The old Count turned suddenly in his chair.
“Yes,” he said, “in a Continental court, it is certain; but in America, monsieur, under your admirable law, founded on the common law of England?”
“I am sure we should hang him,” replied the American.
“Monsieur,” cried the old Count, “you have me profoundly puzzled.”
It seemed to the little group on the terrace that they, and not the Count, were indicated by that remark. He had stated a case about which there could be no two opinions under any civilized conception of justice. Sir Henry Marquis had pointed out the only element—a state of war—which could distinguish the case from plain premeditated murder in its highest degree. They looked to him for an explanation; but it did not immediately arrive.
The Count noticed it and offered a word of apology.