e with this. I envy you. And you were
sure she was not his wife?"

"No, she was not his wife; and as to what I shall do, it is simple. I
shall go to the count and explain the card and my mistake. I meant to
anticipate the visit to you of Count le Moyne's seconds. I am sorry to
have been late."

"Sorry! Not I. It is immense!"

"The count will call me out. There will be the usual farce of a sword
duel. I am in fair practice. This will relieve you so far as concerns
the count, and nobody else will fight you with the weapons you offer."

"Won't they, indeed? I have been insulted. Do you suppose I can sit
quiet under it? No, Mr. Greville. You, I hope, may make yourself
unpleasant to this count, but I shall settle with him and the others,
too. Did I happen to mention that I told them I did not fight with
knitting-needles?"

"You did."

"They seemed annoyed."

"Probably," said I. Although the whole affair appeared to me comical,
it had, too, its possible tragedy.

"Well," I continued, "I shall find the count, and set right the matter
of the cards. After that we may better see our way. These matters are
never hurried over here. Dine with me to-night at my rooms at
seven-thirty; and meanwhile, as for the baron--"

"Oh, the baron--you should see him. I came near to calling him Porthos
to his face. I wish I had."

"And the small man, the colonel--"

"Oh, yes--shade of Dumas! He may pass for Aramis."

I laughed. "By the way," I added, "he is one of the best blades in
France."

"Is he? However he comes in third. But can he shoot? If I accept the
sword,--and it may come to that,--I am pretty sure to be left with
something to remember. If we use rifles, I assure you they will
remember me still longer or not at all." There was savage menace in
his blue eyes as he spoke. "But is it not ridiculous?"

I said it was.

"And now about this count who is interested in the anonymous lady. I
suppose he may pass for Athos. That makes it complete. Have some rye.
Smuggled it. Said it was medicine. The customs fellow tried it neat,
and said I had poisoned him."

I declined the wine of my country, and answered him that Athos, as I
had learned, was a man of high character who had lately joined the
Foreign Office, a keen imperialist, happily married and rich.

"Then certainly it cannot be the wife."

"No, I think I said so; I am thankful to be able to say that it is
not. But what part the woman has in this muddle is past my
co