"Monsieur!" the count cried.
"I was merely struck by your peculiar treatment of sacred things," Dirke replied, his tone dropping to the level of absolute indifference. "It is—unconventional, to say the least."
He lifted his hand and examined the ring with an air of newly aroused interest. He wondered, half-contemptuously, at the man's self-control.
"Monsieur," he heard him say. "You are a gentleman; I perceive it beneath the disguise of your vocation,—of your conduct. When I say to you that the sight of that ring upon your finger compromises my honor,—that it is an insult to me,—you comprehend; is it not so?"
"Quite so," Dirke replied, with carefully studied offensiveness.
"Then, Monsieur, it will perhaps be possible at another time to correct the inequality in point of arms to which you have called my attention." The challenge was admirably delivered.
"I should think nothing could be simpler," Dirke rejoined, and he deliberately put his pistol in his pocket.
They parted without more words, de Lys stumbling once as he made his way along the uneven sidewalk, Dirke keeping on across the barren upland, sure-footed and serene.
It had come at last, his great opportunity;
