“With whom, I am led to understand, we are on a footing of rivalry?” I asked. “Yes, I have seen her.”
“And I was just seeking her,” he replied.
I was conscious of a certain thrill of temper; so, I suppose, was he. We looked each other up and down.
“The situation is original,” he resumed.
“Quite,” said I. “But let me tell you frankly you are blowing a cold coal. I owe you so much for your kindness to the prisoner Champdivers.”
“Meaning that the lady’s affections are more advantageously disposed of?” he asked, with a sneer. “Thank you, I am sure. And, since you have given me a lead, just hear a word of good advice in your turn. Is it fair, is it delicate, is it like a gentleman, to compromise the young lady by attentions which (as you know very well) can come to nothing?”
I was utterly unable to find words in answer.
“Excuse me if I cut this interview short,” he went on. “It seems to me doomed to come to nothing, and there is more attractive metal.”
“Yes,” I replied, “as you say, it cannot amount to much. You are impotent, bound hand and foot in honour. You know me to be a man falsely accused, and even if you did not know it, from your position as my rival you have only the chance to stand quite still or to be infamous.”
“I would not say that,” he returned, with another change of colour. “I may hear it once too often.”