"Yes," he answered, "there is."
"In the regiment, I presume?"
"He is attached to it temporarily. If you will inquire at the Armoury for Lemoine, the Maître d'Armes, he will oblige you, I have no doubt. But——"
"If you please?" the Colonel said politely, seeing that Marsh hesitated.
"If you are not a skilled swordsman, I fear that it is not one lesson, or two, or a dozen, will enable you to meet Captain Payton, if you have such a thing in your mind, sir. He is but little weaker than Lemoine, and Lemoine is a fair match with a small-sword for any man out of London. Brady in Dublin, possibly, and perhaps half a dozen in England are his betters, but——" he stopped abruptly, his ear catching a snigger at the window. "I need not trouble you with that," he concluded lamely.
"Still," the Colonel answered simply, "a long reach goes for much, I have heard, and I am tall."
Captain Marsh looked at him in pity, and he might have put his compassion into words, but for the young bloods at the window, who, he knew, would repeat the conversation. He contented himself, therefore, with saying rather curtly, "I believe it goes some way." And he turned stiffly to go out.
But the Colonel had a last question to put to him. "At what hour," he asked, "should I be most likely to find this—Lemoine, at leisure?"
"Lemoine?"
"If you please."