Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
"Now," assumed O'Rourke, "ye seem to be getting down to business."
"Precisely, my friend," laughed the duke amusedly. "And it's simple enough, Colonel O'Rourke. You were, to use the legal term, accessory before the fact of my brother's—Prince Felix's—death. Naturally, for that I hold you in no very great good will. And I understand that both before and after the mur—"
"Monsieur!"
"Oh, very well! Before and after,—shall we say?—the unfortunate accident, you made love to the wife of my brother—my promised wife of to-day."
"Ye may understand what ye will," said O'Rourke. "But I'll tell ye this, monsieur the duke, that when ye say that madame promised to marry ye, ye lie!"
"Strong language, Colonel O'Rourke! Upon what do you base such an assertion?"
The duke was holding himself well under control; but he had flushed darkly on hearing the epithet which O'Rourke had flung in his teeth with intent to provoke. Indeed, at present all that the Irishman was hoping for was to madden the duke into accepting or issuing a challenge to a duel. Then—well, the best man would win.
"I know that ye lie," continued O'Rourke evenly, "from the fact that within the week madame has sent for me."
"Which means—what, monsieur, may I ask?"
"It means that madame once promised to be me wife, Monsieur the Duke; and that she is standing ready to redeem her pledge. Is it conceivable that she'd be promising her hand to ye at the same time? I think not."
"Your judgment may be prejudiced, colonel. Madame may have changed her mind, may have wished to see you in
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