"Exactly, hence my warning," said Rosmore. "You noted how quickly he
disappeared. He saw me, and had no desire to face a man who knows him
for what he is. Those grey eyes of his were sharper than mine or he
would not have escaped so easily."
Barbara glanced at him quickly, wondering how much of their conversation
her uncle had repeated, but Lord Rosmore did not appear to notice her
look.
"And if you had found him?" she asked.
"I should have forced a quarrel on some pretext or other, and so
contrived that he could not have run away without giving me
satisfaction. By killing him I should have done a public service, and,
for my own honour, I should have snapped the sword I had been compelled
to stain with the blood of so contemptible a person. You smile, Mistress
Lanison. Why?"
"At your vindictiveness, and at a thought which came into my mind."
"May I know it?"
"I was wondering what this Mr.--did you say the name was Crosby?--would
have done with his sword had he proved equal to reversing the issue of
the quarrel."
"Ah! I wonder," and Lord Rosmore laughed, but not good-naturedly. "I
have faith enough in my skill to believe that it can successfully defend
you whenever you may have need of it.
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