“_Oui, oui!_ When ze French army invade Spain, in 1814, Jean Louis keeled thirteen Italian fencing masters, one after ze other. Zat profe ze superiority of ze French method, sare. Ze Italian believe strength is needed to make ze perfect fencer. That is wrong. In France manee persons of ze highest rank are wondairefully skillful in ze art, yet they are not remarkable for strength. Eet is ze light touch, ze grace, ze art, ze composure, ze ready wit that count.” “How about duels at German colleges, like Leipzig and Heidelberg?” “Oh, no, no, no! The German have a mixture of ze French and ze Italian method. Zey are fightaires, but zey count on ze strength, too. Years ago fencing was ze study paramount at ze great German colleges; but too manee students they are killed at eet. Ze most peaceable never was he sure of his life for one day. Later ze method change, and now eet is to cut and scar ze face of ze adversary. Ze German never have ze grace of ze French. “You stay here, Monsieur Merriwell—you see ze finals? Well, zen you see my greatest pupil, Fred Darleton, defeat his opponent. Of Monsieur Darleton I am very proud. _Oui!_ He is a wondaire. I belief he can defeat any American in ze country.” Hodge made a protesting sound in his throat; but again Frank shot Bart a glance of warning. “I shall be delighted to witness the work of Mr. Darleton,” said Merry. “It has been some time since I have fenced, Monsieur L’Estrange, and I know I must be very rusty at it; but you have reawakened my enthusiasm for the sport, and I feel like taking up the foils again. If I were to remain in Omaha any length of time, I would seek to become one of your pupils.” L’Estrange bowed with graciousness. “Eet would give me pleasure to instruct you, sare,” he said. “Eet would give me delight to show you ze real superiority of ze duelist, ze fencer, over ze athlete. You watch ze work of Fred Darleton to-night. Eet will delight you.” As Morton led them away, he said: “You got off easy, Merriwell. Once get L’Estrange aroused and he can talk a blue streak about fencing for hours. He’s really a wizard with the foils, and this fellow Darleton, of whom he spoke, is likewise a wonder. Darleton is not popular with many members in the club; but I believe that is because of his remarkable skill at cards.” “He is a successful card player, is he?” questioned Frank. “Altogether too successful. He makes his spending money at the game.” “What game.” “Poker.” “Do you permit gambling for stakes in this club?” “It is permitted,” confessed Morton, flushing slightly. “Of course gambling is not open here. We have a private card room for those who wish to play for stakes.” Merry said nothing more, but he was thinking that the practice of gambling was a bad thing for any organization of that sort. It was not his place, however, to express such an opinion.