Under his breath Sir Raymond gave the dueller’s “Sa-sa!” The jest had of a sudden taken an ugly turn, and what in the fiend’s name ailed Fanshawe to be picking a quarrel in this fashion?
Rensley spoke between shut teeth. “May I ask what concern it is of yours, sir?”
Sir Anthony’s eyes were hard and scornful. “Make no doubt, sir, I can readily understand your anxiety for me not to make it my concern.”
Troubridge laid his hand on Sir Anthony’s arm. “Tony — ” he began, expostulating.
His hand was removed. “In a moment, Troubridge.”
Mr Rensley’s fingers sought the hilt of his sword. “I know how to take that, Sir Anthony. You shall have all the taste of my mettle you require, and maybe some more beside. Be pleased to name your seconds.”
Sir Anthony looked round the room. “Why, here are enough for us both,” he said. “I will take Mr Molyneux and Mr Troubridge for mine. I make no doubt my Lord Kestrel, and Orton there will be charmed to serve you.”
Mr Molyneux jumped. “Good Gad, Fanshawe, what’s this?”
“I’ll choose my own friends, I thank you, sir! You shall hear from them.” Mr Rensley strode to the door but was checked by Sir Anthony’s voice.
“Not so fast, not so fast! It is for me to name the time and the place. What place could be better than this, and what time half so suitable as the present?”