the pistol and fired half a dozen shots in rapid succession.
"You have missed," he cried, laughing gleefully.
"I think not. You will find the six bullets in a ring round the bull's-eye. I never miss." I spoke with intentionally boastful swagger.
He went up to the target and examined it, and then turned to me:
"By the Lord, you're a wonderful shot. Where did you learn that trick?"
The unfeigned surprise and admiration in his tone pleased me. He would know now, at least, that I was not a man to be trifled with; from that moment his manner towards me changed, and his bluster and swagger decreased.
"I am very fond of pistol practice," I answered quietly.
He went up to the target again and stood before it, scrutinising the marks of the bullets as though I had performed a miracle.
"I never saw anything like it. It's wonderful," I heard him mutter to himself. Then in a louder tone to me: "I should like to come here for practice, Count." But I had no mind for that.
"It would not do, I am afraid. If we are to make this business a success, I must be as slightly associated with you as possible."
"Yes, that is true—and shrewd enough. You won't want recruits if you can teach them to do that," pointing to the target. "And are you equally clever with the foils?" I could have found it in me to laugh at the change in his manner. He was like a man who had come to bully and had unexpectedly been whipped.
"No, a long way from it. Would you like to try?"
