My explosion seemed to calm the Duke.  He looked at me, intently, for a moment; then bowed gravely.

“I beg Your Highness’s pardon,” he said; “you are not a coward.”

I might not be outdone, so I bowed back at him.  “Thank you,” said I; “and I also beg your pardon and withdraw my adjectives.”

“Merci, Your Highness,” he answered.  “Let us consider the matter closed?”

“With pleasure,” said I.

“And I shall hope to have the honor of crossing swords—­foils, I mean, with you, some day,” he said meaningly.

“The hope is intensely mutual, my dear Duke,” I answered.

He drew himself up to attention and saluted stiffly.  I returned it in kind.

“And, with Your Highness’s permission,” I said, “I shall ask you to refrain from communicating with Mrs. Spencer.  I appreciate your offer but, upon second thought, I doubt the wisdom of it.”

“As you wish, monsieur,” said he; “as you wish.”

XX

A TRICK OF FENCE

After Lotzen had gone, and I was able to do a bit of reflecting, I was pretty well convinced that he had got about as much out of me as I had out of him.  Of course, our mutual distrust and dislike were now openly avowed; but we had known it quite as well before—­just as he had been aware of my designs on the Crown and my partiality for the Princess, and, I, of his purpose to defeat me for both.  He had, to use a military term, made a reconnoissance in force; and I had tried to meet him in kind and to prevent him uncovering my exact position.  How well I had succeeded, however, was very problematical; for I could not know what particular information he sought.  I was satisfied, however, his main purpose was to discover whether I had any knowledge or suspicion of him being back of Madeline Spencer.  And I was not so sure I had bluffed him.  I began to fancy he had seen through me, at once, and had played me off against myself, so to speak.  And, the longer I meditated, the more the fancy gripped me.  Finally, in disgust, I summoned Bernheim and Moore.

“Which of you,” said I, “will do me the favor of a few passes with the foils?”

Of course, they both offered.

“Good,” said I; “I’ll take you, in turn.  Send an orderly to the armory for the paraphernalia.”

I fell to divesting myself of my upper garments, and Bernheim and Moore followed suit.

“By the way,” I said, “what sort of a fencer is Lotzen?”

Bernheim turned and looked at me, sharply.  Moore stopped with his shirt half off and did the same.

“There is only one better in Valeria,” said Bernheim.

“So!” said I.  “And he?”

The grey eyes twinkled and he actually smiled as he answered.

“Colonel Moore, of Your Highness’s Personal Staff.”

It was my turn to be surprised.  “Then, he is a very modest gentleman,” I said.