"It means, lad, that there are no more masks. That is all. I am sorry, Messieurs, that Monsieur le Vicomte's sword has been broken. Will one of you lend him one?"
"I place you both under arrest," declared Du Puys, emphatically.
"Major," interposed Brother Jacques, "leave Monsieur le Vicomte to me. There will be no duel between these two gentlemen. I will arrange the affair. Unless Monsieur le Chevalier desires to apologize."
"Nothing of the kind!" replied the Chevalier harshly.
"Release my wrists, sneaking priest!"
Brother Jacques nodded toward the Chevalier to signify that he would depend upon his own offices. "Monsieur le Vicomte, listen to me. Will you follow me to your cabin?"
"You?"
"Even so. I have something to say to you."
"Well, I have nothing to say to you. Will you let go of my wrists?"
Brother Jacques lost none of his blandness. "I have only a single question to ask of you. I will first whisper it. If that does not convince you, I will ask it aloud. There are those here who will understand its value." He leaned toward the angry man and whispered a dozen words into his ear, then drew back, still holding the straining wrists.