His sword disappeared, and his smile broadened to a grim laugh:  “You’re right, baron.  Pardon my haste.  There’s ample time, ample time.”

Turning to my cousin, I took up my thread:  “Master Hamilton is penniless, which is no small failing in itself.  Therefore he lives by gambling, which might be excusable if he did not cheat.  In gambling, you know, cousin, the mere law of chance will not put much money in a man’s purse.  Good luck is but another name for skill in trickery.  If one would thrive by cards and dice, one must be a thief.”

There was another angry movement by Hamilton, which I interrupted, smiling, bowing, and saying, “Let us talk this matter over calmly, smilingly, if possible.”

“I’ll smile when I can,” returned Hamilton, made more angry, if that were possible, by a paradoxical inclination to laugh.  “Proceed, baron, proceed!  I am becoming interested in myself.”

Frances gave a nervous little laugh, looked first to Hamilton, then to me and back again, as though she would ask what it all meant, and I continued:—­

“As I have said, Frances, Master Hamilton and his friends live by cheating at cards and other games in a manner to make all decent men avoid play with them.  They pluck strangers and feather their purses from new geese who do not know their methods.  They also derive considerable revenue from passe women who have more wealth than beauty, are more brazen than modest, and more generous than chaste.”

“I’ll not listen to another word!” exclaimed Frances, looking up to Hamilton in evident wonder at his complacency.

“Just one moment longer, Frances,” I insisted.  “Master Hamilton’s intimate friends have been known on more than one occasion to stoop to the crimes of theft, robbery, and even murder to obtain money, and have escaped punishment only because of royal favor.  I do not say that Master Hamilton has ever participated in these crimes, but he knew of them, did not condemn them, helped the criminals to escape justice, and retained the guilty men as his associates and nearest friends.  Add to this list the fact that Hamilton is a roue and a libertine, to whom virtue is but a jest, and with whom no pure woman, knowing him, would be seen alone, and I believe I have drawn a picture of a man who is in no way fit to be your companion in a lonely stroll.  On the other hand, he is a brave man, a generous enemy, a staunch friend, and a ready help at all times to the needy.  Now I have finished what has been a disagreeable though imperative duty.  Doubtless it has been disagreeable to you, also, Master Hamilton, but—­”

“On the contrary,” he interrupted, in low tones, and with bowed head.

“But, of course, I am ready to stand by my words,” I continued.  “And now, sir, you may, if you wish, say to Mistress Jennings that I have lied.  Doubtless she will believe you, in which case it shall be my pleasure to send a messenger to you, thereby saving you the trouble of sending one to me.”