The tramping ceased.
Anthony looked him steadily in the eyes:
“You have forgotten something, Lord Wyntwarde. There was a time when you were not so pat with a lie.”
“I have forgotten nothing.”
“You have forgotten to add that you had four children alive—and a brother. We scribbling folk call that the lie of omission; we consider it the lowest of falsehoods. We even hold it a dishonour to utter it.”
The bloodshot eyes ceased their glare; and the striding began again:
“Still the damned authority on all the moralities,” said my lord.
As a fact, he was pleased at the show of fire. He had begun to think this man had lost courage; and he would have trampled him under foot for it. Your braggart only understands courage when it is announced by trumpet. As it was, he remembered the ugly threat of a whip that he had once been under from this fellow. It came to him that he had played the bully to the limits.
He went to the bell and rang it; and got to pacing the room again, brooding, until a footman opened the door.
“Tell Mr. Fassett I wish to see him,” said his lordship.