"It's clear you've been swiped across the face," broke in Sir Patrick Gee.
"Hold your tongue, sir!" said Tiverton, looking quietly at him. "Proceed, Mr. Wheatman!"
It made me smile again, tight as the corner was, to see the play-acting spirit creeping over him. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
"Therefore, my lord, I should like to ask you a few questions," I continued.
"Certainly, sir," he replied, with great impressiveness, taking snuff in great style while he awaited my questioning.
"Is there any doubt that I am the insulted person?"
"None whatever," he replied. "My Lord Brocton insulted you wantonly and deliberately."
"Then, my lord Marquess, I may be wrong, but I think I have the right of choosing the place, the time, and the weapons."
"Certainly, Mr. Wheatman," he answered.
"Then if I choose to say, 'On the banks of the Susquehanna, ten years hence, with tomahawks,' so it must be?"