"And why not?" replied Marcel. "Could we have done otherwise after the delicate attentions that you have received from Colonel Schwarzfelder. We were the larger party, and therefore it was our duty, under the circumstances, to give way to the smaller. Is that not so, Moore?"
"Certainly," replied Moore. "We did our duty."
I looked at them questioningly, and Marcel's eye began to twinkle.
"Oh, you have not heard of the billet-doux that Schwarzfelder has written you?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?" I replied.
"It was done in the most perfect manner," said Moore; "I wish that it had come for me."
"I refuse to go a step farther unless you tell me what you are talking about," I said, and I stopped short. They could have carried me on only by dragging me, and that would have looked undignified.
"Suppose we let him have the letter,—Schwarzfelder's masterly production," said Marcel.
"Yes, let him see it," said Vivian.
Marcel accordingly took from his waistcoat pocket, an envelope with a broken seal, superscribed in a large heavy hand, "To Captain, the Honorable Charles Montague." I put it to my nose, and it smelled of both tobacco and wine.