CHAPTER XXXV
HOW THE SERGEANT TOOK WARNING OF A WITCH
Sergeant Zebedee having pinked the Viscount in every vital part of his aristocratic anatomy, lowered his foil, shook his head and sighed while the Viscount panted rueful.
"You reached me seven times I think, that bout, Zeb?"
"Eight, sir!"
"Ha, the dooce! How d'ye do it?"
"'Tis your own self, m' lud. How can I help but pink you when you play your parades so open and inviting?"
"Hm!" said the Viscount, frowning.
"And then too, you're so slow in your recoveries, Master Pancras—Tom, sir!"