“No? Zen where?”
“In New York.”
“O-oo!” L’Estrange threw up his hands. “Zen I know! Oui! Oui! Zere ees but one man—Pierre Lafont. You have from me ze congratulation, sare. I know Pierre Lafont in France. He fight three duel, and in not one did he get even ze scratch. Each time he seriously disable his antagonist. But his son, Louis—zey say he ees ze wondaire.”
For a time the professor rattled on in this enthusiastic manner, and his talk was very interesting. Although it was known to every one that he felt deep chagrin over the defeat of his finest pupil, he was now the soul of generosity in his behavior toward the victor. His manner was greatly in contrast to that of the churlish Darleton.
Before departing L’Estrange made an appointment to meet Merry in the club the following afternoon for the purpose of fencing with him.
“I wish to make ze test of your full ability, Meestare Merriwell,” smiled the affable Frenchman. “I theenk I discovaire one or two little weaknesses in your style zat may be corrected quickly. Eet will give me pleasure to make ze improvement in you—if you wish eet.”
“I’m always anxious to learn, professor,” answered Merry.
CHAPTER VII
THE ADMIRATION OF L’ESTRANGE.
“Wondaireful! wondaireful!” cried L’Estrange. “You are so ready to—to—what you call eet?—to catch on!”