seconds at most--there was dead silence in the room,
during which time it almost seemed as if the beating of several hearts
could be distinctly heard.

Then Chauvelin, courtly and urbane, stepped calmly forward.

"Believe me, Citizeness," he said, addressing Candeille directly and
with marked emphasis, "I am entirely at your command, but am I not
helpless, seeing that those who have so grossly insulted you are of your
own irresponsible, if charming, sex?"

Like a great dog after a nap, Sir Percy Blakeney straightened his long
back and stretched it out to its full length.

"La!" he said pleasantly, "my ever engaging friend from Calais. Sir,
your servant. Meseems we are ever destined to discuss amiable matters,
in an amiable spirit.... A glass of punch, Monsieur... er... Chauvelin?"

"I must ask you, Sir Percy," rejoined Chauvelin sternly, "to view this
matter with becoming seriousness."

"Seriousness is never becoming, sir," said Blakeney, politely smothering
a slight yawn, "and it is vastly unbecoming in the presence of ladies."

"Am I to understand then, Sir Percy," said Chauvelin, "that you are
prepared to apologize to Mademoiselle Candeille for this insults offered
to her by Lady Blakeney?"

Sir Percy again tried to smother that tiresome little yawn, which seemed
most distressing, when he desired to be most polite. Then he flicked
off a grain of dust from his immaculate lace ruffle and buried his long,
slender hands in the capacious pockets of his white satin breeches;
finally he said with the most good-natured of smiles:

"Sir, have you seen the latest fashion in cravats? I would wish to
draw your attention to the novel way in which we in England tie a
Mechlin-edged bow."

"Sir Percy," retorted Chauvelin firmly, "since you will not offer
Mademoiselle Candeille the apology which she has the right to expect
from you, are you prepared that you and I should cross swords like
honourable gentlemen?"

Blakeney laughed his usual pleasant, somewhat shy laugh, shook his
powerful frame and looked from his altitude of six feet three inches
down on the small, sable-clad figure of ex-Ambassador Chauvelin.

"The question is, sir," he said slowly, "should we then be two
honourable gentlemen crossing swords?"

"Sir Percy..."

"Sir?"

Chauvelin, who for one moment had seemed ready to lose his temper,
now made a sudden effort to resume a calm and easy attitude and said
quietly:

"Of course, if one of us is coward