n it," he continued, as Chauvelin finally took one of
the swords in his hand. "And now for a bowl of punch.... Nay, Monsieur,
'twas demmed smart what you said just now... I must insist on your
joining us in a bowl.... Such wit as yours, Monsieur, must need whetting
at times. ... I pray you repeat that same sally again..."

Then finally turning to the Prince and to his friends, he added:

"And after that bowl, gentlemen, shall we rejoin the ladies?"

Chapter XIII: Reflections

It seemed indeed as if the incident were finally closed, the chief
actors in the drama having deliberately vacated the centre of the stage.

The little crowd which had stood in a compact mass round the table,
began to break up into sundry small groups: laughter and desultory talk,
checked for a moment by that oppressive sense of unknown danger, which
had weighed on the spirits of those present, once more became general.
Blakeney's light-heartedness had put everyone into good-humour; since he
evidently did not look upon the challenge as a matter of serious moment,
why then, no one else had any cause for anxiety, and the younger men
were right glad to join in that bowl of punch which their genial host
had offered with so merry a grace.

Lacqueys appeared, throwing open the doors. From a distance the sound of
dance music once more broke upon the ear.

A few of the men only remained silent, deliberately holding aloof from
the renewed mirthfulness. Foremost amongst these was His Royal Highness,
who was looking distinctly troubled, and who had taken Sir Percy by
the arm, and was talking to him with obvious earnestness. Lord Anthony
Dewhurst and Lord Hastings were holding converse in a secluded corner of
the room, whilst Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, as being the host's most intimate
friend, felt it incumbent on him to say a few words to ex-Ambassador
Chauvelin.

The latter was desirous of effecting a retreat. Blakeney's invitation to
join in the friendly bowl of punch could not be taken seriously, and the
Terrorist wanted to be alone, in order to think out the events of the
past hour.

A lacquey waited on him, took the momentous sword from his hand, found
his hat and cloak and called his coach for him: Chauvelin having taken
formal leave of his host and acquaintances, quickly worked his way to
the staircase and hall, through the less frequented apartments.

He sincerely wished to avoid meeting Lady Blakeney face to face. Not
that the slightes