Three minutes later, his Grace of Winterset flung wide the card-room door, and, after his friends had entered, closed it.
“Ah!” remarked M. Beaucaire quietly. “Six more large men.”
The Duke, seeing Lady Mary, started; but the angry signs of her interview had not left her face, and reassured him. He offered his hand to conduct her to the door. “May I have the honor?”
“If this is to be known, 'twill be better if I leave after; I should be observed if I went now.”
“As you will, madam,” he answered, not displeased. “And now, you impudent villain,” he began, turning to M. Beaucaire, but to fall back astounded. “'Od's blood, the dog hath murdered and robbed some royal prince!” He forgot Lady Mary's presence in his excitement. “Lay hands on him!” he shouted. “Tear those orders from him!”
Molyneux threw himself between. “One word!” he cried. “One word before you offer an outrage you will repent all your lives!”
“Or let M. de Winterset come alone,” laughed M. Beaucaire.
“Do you expect me to fight a cut-throat barber, and with bare hands?”
“I think one does not expec' monsieur to fight anybody. Would I fight you, you think? That was why I had my servants, that evening we play. I would gladly fight almos' any one in the won'; but I did not wish to soil my hand with a—”
“Stuff his lying mouth with his orders!” shouted the Duke.