He stepped forward, pushing the revolver almost into the American's face.
Chase had never been so furious—so disgusted in the whole course of his life, and at the same time he felt greatly alarmed. The poilu seemed fairly bristling with rage—on the point, indeed, of uncontrollable fury.
Chase, helpless, was almost afraid to trust himself to speak.
"Perhaps another time you will first learn to whom you are talking!" continued the Frenchman. "Allez—allez!"
As the soldier advanced step by step, never letting the revolver waver from in front of the American's head, another strange scene was enacted within the walls of the Château de Morancourt. Chase Manning retreated; and in this singular fashion they crossed the great apartment and entered the next, heading for the demolished window.
And it was not until they reached it that any further words were spoken. Then Chase, who could scarcely control his pent-up emotions, burst out explosively:
"Americans, Monsieur, do not need revolvers to bolster up their courage. We have met twice; perhaps our third encounter will be the most interesting of the three."
"Go!" said the Frenchman, sternly. "One—two—three!"
But by the time he had uttered the "three" Chase Manning was safely outside.
He did not tarry, either. Facing an angry man armed with a revolver he considered too dangerous a proposition.