nd silently shot
the bolt.

CHAPTER XXXV

HOW THE SERGEANT TOOK WARNING OF A WITCH

Sergeant Zebedee having pinked the Viscount in every vital part of his
aristocratic anatomy, lowered his foil, shook his head and sighed while
the Viscount panted rueful.

"You reached me seven times I think, that bout, Zeb?"

"Eight, sir!"

"Ha, the dooce! How d'ye do it?"

"'Tis your own self, m' lud. How can I help but pink you when you play
your parades so open and inviting?"

"Hm!" said the Viscount, frowning.

"And then too, you're so slow in your recoveries, Master Pancras--Tom,
sir!"

"Anything more, Zeb?"

"Aye, m' lud. Your hand on your p'int's for ever out o' the line and
your finger-play----" The Sergeant shook his head again.

"Devil burn it, Zeb! I begin to think I don't sound over-promising.
And yet--Gad love me, Sergeant, but you've no form, no style, y' know,
pasitively none! In the schools they'd laugh at your play and call it
mighty unmannerly."

"Belike they would, sir. But 'tis the schools as is the matter wi' you
and so many other modish gentlemen, same be all froth and flourish.
But flourishes though taking to the eye, is slow m' lud, slow."

"Nay, I've seen some excellent fencing in the schools, Zeb, such poise
o' bady, such grace----"

"Grace is very well, m' lud--in a school. But 'tis one thing to play a
veney wi' blunted weapons and another to fight wi' the sharps."

"True, Zeb, though La Touche teacheth in his book----"

"Book!" exclaimed the Sergeant and snorted.

"Hm!" said the Viscount, smiling, "howbeit in these next three days,
I'd have you teach me all you can of your--unmannerly method."

"And wherefore three days, sir?"

"Why as to that Zeb--er--Lard save me, I'm to ride with the Major to
Sevenoaks, he'll be waiting! Here, help me on with this!" And laying
by his foil, the Viscount caught up his coat.

"Three days, Master Tom, and wherefore three?" enquired the Sergeant as
Viscount Merivale struggled into his tight-fitting garment.

"Take care, Zeb, 'tis a new creation."

"And seems much too small, sir!"

"Nay, 'twill go on in time, Zeb, in time. I shall acquire it by
degrees. Ease me into it--gently, gently--so!"

"And wherefore three days, sir?" persisted the Sergeant, as the coat
being "acquired" its wearer settled its graceful folds about his
slender person.

"Why three is a lucky number they say, Zeb," and with a smiling nod the
Viscount hasted