Sir Royce Severn bowed to him.
“Captain Blake, let me suggest to you that you go no more to Judith Strange’s house.”
“Let me suggest, sir, that you mind your own business.”
“Judith Strange is my business.”
The younger man took a step forward, and his left arm went up. Severn’s hunting-crop whirled suddenly, and struck Blake’s fist so that one of the knucklebones cracked. The pain of it made Blake stride to and fro, biting his lips.
“You fiend!”
Severn laughed.
“You cannot hurt me, my friend. I never met a cock yet who could face me in the pit. Judith Strange, Captain Blake, is to be my wife, and I have a sort of jealousy in me that is dangerous to calves. I say what I please about the woman I mean to marry.”
Blake’s face had gone dead white, but not with physical pain.
“I don’t take you, sir.”