"What are you staring at, smallbones?" he demanded fiercely as though lashing himself into a fury to counteract the effect of the Salolja eye. "When fools stare at me I scoop their eyes out to teach 'em better manners." The duke accepted the interesting statement with a bow. "Yes?" he responded appreciatively. "Yes, I do," maintained Mr. Leo savagely. "I'm a man, as I've been telling these scallywags, who stands no nonsense." Again the duke bowed. "I applaud your grace," he said. A horrible suspicion that he was being laughed at seemed to take hold of the doughty Mr. Leo. "You applaud my grace, do you?" he cried, forcing his voice into a sneering squeak. "Who asked for your halfpenny opinion? You keep your sauce to stew that over-grown nose in when I've pulled it off." For an instant, at the dire insult, there was a flash of murder in the duke's eyes. Then, with an air of storing up what he had received for cumulative repayment he inquired softly, with his eternal bow, "I have the distinguished honour of addressing milord Quorn?" "You're an undersized liar," was the somewhat pointed reply. "I think not," rejoined the duke confidently, "although it will be my duty to remember that your grace has called me one. Lord Quorn----" "My name's Leo!" came with a roar. "I believe not," insisted the duke. "Lord Quorn! I'd like to catch him!" cried Carnaby. The duke smiled indulgently, yet with a homicidal preoccupation. "I believe," he said coolly, "I have had the good fortune to catch him." "Where is the skunk?" demanded Mr. Leo, with a noticeable falling off in the volume of his tone. It was clear that his opponent's steadfastness was beginning to tell. "May I ask," observed the duke, "as a favour, that your grace will not make so much noise, but will accord your most humble servant the supreme privilege of saying a few words to you?" His voice had begun to come out in bursts, in the fashion which had created such a disagreeable effect on Gage and Peckover at the first interview. Mr. Leo, inclined to wilt, made yet a gallant effort to pull himself together. "If you want to jaw," he replied with scarcely equal courtesy, "go into the next room and jaw your jaw off. You won't spoil your beauty, for plain reasons. I'm getting sick of you. You spoil the flavour of this cigar." "I intend to," was the hardly expected retort. "Although it is a pity, as it is possibly the last your grace will ever smoke." The dark eyes were now fixed on his grace with all their scorching ferocity. Mr. Leo looked as though the cigar or something else had indeed disagreed with him. The three spectators of the duel wanted only the sense of complete personal immunity to enjoy it hugely.