‘He deserves to be horsewhipped.’
‘Bless you, he has been horsewhipped over and over again; I think he rather likes it, and whenever it occurs he publishes a full account in his own journal. Come, you’re no match for him, with his poisoned shafts. He’d find out the weak point in your armour at once. Come to the smoking-room, and have a cigar.’
As they crossed the room together, they heard the voice of Lagardère beginning again, with its usual drawling monotony—
‘I say, Day, who’s the fire-eater with Crieff? He reminds me of a man who once threatened to thrash me at St. Petersburg. It began at a card-party, where four of us were playing—the Grand Duke Nicolas, Prince Necrolowski, old Gortschenkoff, and myself.’
They heard no more. Sutherland strode on to the smoking-room, which was almost empty, and threw himself into a seat. His face was convulsed, and his frame shook with agitation.
‘My dear Sutherland, you’re exciting yourself for nothing. What is Miss Vere to you?’
‘She is this much,’ said Sutherland, ‘that if I thought it would serve her I would kill that man like a dog.’
‘Kill Lagardère! Ridiculous! Why, he’s excellent fun.’ ‘Crieff, don’t talk like that—it’s not worthy of you. You know that man is a villain.’
‘Upon my word, I don’t think so.’
‘What!’