“Well,” smiled Merry, “I don’t think I told you I obtained all my knowledge and skill at college.” “You mention ze school first. You begin young. Zat ees good! Zat is splendid! Zat ees ze way to make ze feenish fencer, ze same as ze feenish musician or ze feenish beelyarde player. But ze school, ze college, both together zey never gif you all you know. You have ze command, ze skill, ze technique! Eef you choose, sare, you make ze master fencer.” “Thank you, professor,” said Merry. “I fear you are flattering me.” “O-oo, no, no! I spik ze truth! You have traveled?” “Yes.” “You have visited France?” “Yes.” “I knew eet! In France you take ze fencing lesson from some famous master of ze art. You have ze French method. I do not say you have eet yet to completeness. I belief I could advance you to ze very great extent. But before you had finished ze engagement I knew you had received instruction from ze French master.” “But not in France.” “No? Zen where?” “In New York.” “O-oo!” L’Estrange threw up his hands. “Zen I know! _Oui! Oui!_ Zere ees but one man—Pierre Lafont. You have from me ze congratulation, sare. I know Pierre Lafont in France. He fight three duel, and in not one did he get even ze scratch. Each time he seriously disable his antagonist. But his son, Louis—zey say he ees ze wondaire.” For a time the professor rattled on in this enthusiastic manner, and his talk was very interesting. Although it was known to every one that he felt deep chagrin over the defeat of his finest pupil, he was now the soul of generosity in his behavior toward the victor. His manner was greatly in contrast to that of the churlish Darleton. Before departing L’Estrange made an appointment to meet Merry in the club the following afternoon for the purpose of fencing with him. “I wish to make ze test of your full ability, Meestare Merriwell,” smiled the affable Frenchman. “I theenk I discovaire one or two little weaknesses in your style zat may be corrected quickly. Eet will give me pleasure to make ze improvement in you—if you wish eet.” “I’m always anxious to learn, professor,” answered Merry. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER VII THE ADMIRATION OF L’ESTRANGE. “Wondaireful! wondaireful!” cried L’Estrange. “You are so ready to—to—what you call eet?—to catch on!” The time was mid afternoon following the evening when the finals were “pulled off” at the great Omaha athletic club. Frank had met the fencing master, according to agreement, and for some time they had been engaged with the foils, Hugh Morton being the only witness. They were resting now. “Look you, sare,” said the enthusiastic Frenchman, “in six month I could make you ze greatest fencer in ze country—in one year ze champion of ze world! Yes, sare—of ze world!” “I fear you are putting it a little too strong, professor,” laughed Frank.