"And by no means with small-swords," I jeered.
He gave me a black look.
"You will pray me to kill you if you ever fall into my power, Ormerod. I can wait until then."
"As you please."
He turned and left us. Murray took snuff very deliberately, first offering the box to me—which he had not done before—and scrutinized me politely from head to foot.
"I fear I have been patronizing in my conduct, sir," he observed. "Pray accept my apologies."
"You are most kind," I said ironically.
"'Twas a perfect disguise," he went on. "And your manner, if I may say so, was well conceived."
"I thank you."
"In short, I find you an opponent of totally different importance. You are an opponent?" he shot at me.