"It is a mistake! I was upon the wrong path! I will explain another time!" said Belfort, hurriedly.
Marcel tapped his forehead suggestively, and all looked curiously at Belfort. They seemed to think that there was something in Marcel's idea. Of course, Belfort might have accused us openly, but he had no proof whatever, and the chances seemed at least a hundred to one that he would make himself ridiculous by such a declaration. No, I was not afraid of that, unless something else to arouse his smouldering suspicions should occur.
As we left the prison, Miss Desmond said to me, "I wish to ask Lieutenant Melville about Staffordshire."
"Ah, Miss Desmond," spoke up Moore, "if you want to know the truth about any part of England, you should ask an Irishman."
So saying, he placed his hand upon his heart and bowed.
"An Irishman always talks best about the thing of which he knows least," said Vivian.
But all walked on, and Miss Desmond and I were the last of the company. I wondered why she had chosen me thus. There was very little that I could tell her about Staffordshire, and in truth, it seemed a poor subject for conversation just then.
"Lieutenant Melville," she said, "why are you and Lieutenant Belfort to fight a duel?"
Her question was so sudden and direct that it startled me. I had not suspected that she knew of our quarrel.
"It is because we could not agree upon a point of honor," I said.