“That is a fact in many instances,” acknowledged Merriwell.
At this point Morton whispered in Bart Hodge’s ear:
“L’Estrange is started and he will bore Merriwell with talk about fencing, unless we find a way to interrupt it and break away. We must be careful not to offend him.”
There was a strange, half-hidden smile on Bart’s lips as he turned to their host.
“Let the man talk,” he said, in a low tone. “Before he is through Merry will give him the call. You may not believe it, but I doubt if the Frenchman can tell Frank anything new about fencing.”
“Oh, L’Estrange is a graduate of Joinville-le-Pont, the great government school of France.”
Morton said this as if it settled a point, and Hodge knew the man thought him presuming in fancying Frank’s information on fencing was to be compared with that of the great French master of the art.
In the meantime, all his enthusiasm aroused, L’Estrange ardently continued:
“You speak of ze brain, sare. When you fence, ze brain ees prompted to act without a moment of ze hesitation. To hesitate means to make ze failure. Ze fencer must be readee with hees wit, skill, and action, like ze flash of lightning. So ze fencer fits himself for ze struggle of life. He is full of ze resource, he is queek to detec’ ze strength or ze weakness, of an argument or situation, and he acts like electricity, sweeft and unerring. Zis make him a bettair business man zan other men.”
“Every word of this is true,” nodded Merry.