At the lansquenet table Sir Anthony gave a low laugh. “Faith, I begin to have a liking for the old gentleman!” he said.
“You admit it, do you?” Mr Rensley felt his words fall lamely upon expectant ears.
“Admit what?” said my lord, puzzled.
“Why — damme, that you’ve kept a common gaming-house!”
My lord’s hand was raised. “No!” he said emphatically, and a sigh went round the room. His next words dispelled relief. “Never in all my life have I kept anything that was common! You insult me by the suggestion.”
There was a low ripple of laughter. People were gathering about that corner of the room, eager to hear what might be the issue.
“No use to play with words, fellow. That won’t serve,” Rensley cried angrily. “Have you kept a gaming-house?”
The old gentleman took snuff. “I have kept at least a dozen, my dear Rensley,” he said, with perfect composure. He looked again towards Mr Markham. “I am not entirely satisfied,” he mused. “Are you sure you never had lessons in fencing from me, sir?”
There was a gasp. All play was at an end in the card-room. My Lord March burst out laughing. “Gad, Barham, have you been a fencing-master, too?” he exclaimed.
The old gentleman shut his gold snuff-box with a snap. “My dear March,” he said haughtily, “there is nothing I have not been!” He looked again at Mr Markham. “Are you quite sure I did not give you lessons in fencing? Let me think a moment! Yes, I had an establishment in Rome once, and — yes, yes, another in Turin!”