"Il veut abimer notre sante!"
"Il partera tout de suite!"
I looked at them for a moment in amaze, and the fellow with the paper thundered out—"Silence," which produced the effect of cold thrown suddenly in boiling water. The little crowd pressed in upon me closely and listened awe-struck as the Commissionaire spoke to me, in French, of course.
"Monsieur," he said, in an impressive tone, "I am informed you have a dog here!"
I nodded.
"A dog—dead!" and the accent on the last word was terrific.
"My dog unfortunately has died," I said. "Yes"—and I wondered more and more the upshot of it all.
"Then," thundered the official, purple with excited rage, "how is it, Monsieur, you have not sent a notification to the police?"
I was fairly taken aback. The matter, though I barely yet comprehended it, was evidently, in their estimation, one of serious importance. Involuntarily, I glanced round at the others as the Commissionaire scowled threateningly at me. They noted my glance, and attributing it, I suppose, to guilty confusion, there were suppressed and complacent murmurs all round me, and shakes of the head.
"Pas d'explication!"