“I must plead ignorance, my Lord Duke. I really discredit the eulogium you have pronounced upon my information.”
“Then I will tell you, sir,” said the Duke, speaking in a low thick whisper, while his dark eyes glared with the fire of intense excitement. “You will find me in the Seine!”
Linton staggered back as if he had been struck, and a pallor spread over his features, making the very lips bloodless. “How do you mean, sir? Why do you dare to say this to me?” said he, in a voice broken and guttural.
“Since none should better know how to appreciate the news,” was the cold answer.
Linton trembled from head to foot, and, casting a wary look around on every side to see that they were alone, he said, “These words may mean much, or they may mean nothing,—at least nothing that has concern for me. Now, sir, be explicit; in what sense am I to read them?”
The Duke looked astonished at the emotion which all the other's self-command could not repress; he saw, too, that he had touched a secret spring of conscience, and with a calm reserve he said, “Take what I have said in the sense your own heart now suggests, and I venture to affirm it will be the least pleasing interpretation you can put upon it!”
“You shall give me satisfaction for this, sir,” said Linton, whose passion now boiled over. “I will not endure the tyranny of insinuations from any man. Here, before you quit the house,—if ever you quit it,—I will have full satisfaction for your insolence.”
“Insolence!” cried the Duke.
“Yes, insolence. I repeat the word, and these gentlemen shall hear a still stronger word addressed to you, if that will not suffice to arouse your courage.”
This speech was now directed to the crowd of gamblers, who, suddenly awakened by the loud talking, rushed in a body into the room.