“No! I think not.”
“Let us be sure; it is disagreeable to be disturbed at this time of night.”
“Lock the door, then,” said St. George.
“A very good plan,” said Vivian; and he locked it accordingly.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Vivian, rising from the table, and putting both packs of cards into his pocket; “now, gentlemen, I have another game to play.” The Chevalier started on his chair, the Baron turned pale, but both were silent. “Mr. St. George,” continued Vivian, “I think that you owe the Chevalier de Boeffleurs about four thousand Napoleons, and to Baron von Konigstein something more than half that sum. I have to inform you that it is unnecessary for you to satisfy the claims of either of these gentlemen, which are founded neither in law nor in honour.”
“Mr. Grey, what am I to understand?” asked the quiet Chevalier de Boeffleurs, with the air of a wolf and the voice of a lion.
“Understand, sir!” answered Vivian, sternly, “that I am not one who will be bullied by a blackleg.”
“Grey! good God! what do you mean?” asked the Baron.
“That which it is my duty, not my pleasure, to explain, Baron von Konigstein.”
“If you mean to insinuate,” burst forth the Chevalier.