: Mrs.
Petullo wondered at the anger of his eyes, and a moment later launched
upon an abstracted minuet with Montaiglon.

CHAPTER XXVII -- THE DUEL ON THE SANDS

The Chamberlain stood near the door with his hand in the bosom of his
coat, fingering the flageolet that was his constant companion even in
the oddest circumstances, and Count Victor went up to him, the button
concealed in his palm.

"Well, you are for going?" said Simon, more like one who puts a question
than states a position, for some hours of Count Victor's studied
contempt created misgivings.

"_Il y a terme a tout!_ And possibly monsieur will do me the honour to
accompany me so far as the avenue?"

"Sir!" said the Chamberlain.

"I have known men whose reputations were mainly a matter of clothes.
Monsieur is the first I have met whose character hung upon a single
button. Permit me to return your button with a million regards."

He held the silver lozenge out upon his open hand.

"There are many buttons alike," said the Chamberlain. Then he checked
himself abruptly and--"Well, damn it! I'll allow it's mine," said he.

"I should expect just this charming degree of manly frankness from
monsieur. A button is a button, too, and a devilish serious thing when,
say, off a foil."

He still held out the accusation on his open hand, and bowed with his
eyes on those of the other man.

At that MacTaggart lightly struck up the hand, and the button rolled
twinkling along the floor.

Count Victor glanced quickly round him to see that no one noticed. The
hall, but for some domestics, was left wholly to themselves. The ball
was over, the company had long gone, and he had managed to stay his own
departure by an interest feigned in the old armour that hung, with all
its gallant use accomplished, on the walls, followed by a game at cards
with three of the ducal _entourage_, two of whom had just departed. The
melancholy of early morning in a banquet-room had settled down, and all
the candles guttered in the draught of doors.

"I fancy monsieur will agree that this is a business calling for the
open air," said Count Victor, no way disturbed by the rudeness. "I abhor
the stench of hot grease."

"To-morrow--" began the Chamberlain, and Count Victor interrupted.

"To-morrow," said he, "is for reflection; to-day is for deeds. Look! it
will be totally clear in a little."

"I'm the last man who would spoil the prospect of a ploy," said the
Chamberlain, chang