“One can’t have everything,” said the Duke quietly; but his languid air had fallen from him.
“Their ambushes, their attacks, their fine tactics aren’t up to much,” said Guerchard, smiling contemptuously.
“You go a trifle too far, I think,” said the Duke, smiling with equal contempt.
They looked one another in the eyes with a long, lingering look. They had suddenly the air of fencers who have lost their tempers, and are twisting the buttons off their foils.
“Not a bit of it, your Grace,” said Guerchard; and his voice lingered on the words “your Grace” with a contemptuous stress. “This famous Lupin is immensely overrated.”
“However, he has done some things which aren’t half bad,” said the Duke, with his old charming smile.
He had the air of a duelist drawing his blade lovingly through his fingers before he falls to.
“Oh, has he?” said Guerchard scornfully.
“Yes; one must be fair. Last night’s burglary, for instance: it is not unheard of, but it wasn’t half bad. And that theft of the motorcars: it was a neat piece of work,” said the Duke in a gentle, insolent voice, infinitely aggravating.
Guerchard snorted scornfully.