"Ay. What was it George said of Belmanoir at White's the night Gilly made that absurd bet with Ffolliott?" "When Gilly--oh, yes, I remember. 'Twas but an old hexameter tag, playing on his name: '_Est bellum bellis bellum bellare puellis_.' He seemed to think it a fitting motto for a ducal house." There was another general laugh at this. Markham broke in on it: "Who is she, Tracy?" His Grace turned. "Who is who?" he asked languidly. Lord Avon burst out laughing. "Oh, come now, Belmanoir, that won't do! It really will not! Who is she, indeed!" "Ay, Belmanoir, who is the black-haired beauty, and where did you find her?" cried Tom Wilding, pressing forward with a glass in one hand and a bottle of port in the other. "I thought you were captivated by Cynthia Evans?" Tracy looked bewildered for the moment, and then a light dawned on him. "Evans! Ah, yes! The saucy widow who lived in Kensington, was it not? I remember." "He had forgotten!" cried Avon, and went off into another of the noisy laughs that had more than once caused Mr. Nash to shudder and to close his august eyes. "You'll be the death of me, Devil! Gad! but you will!" "Oh, I trust not. Thank you, Wilding." He accepted the glass that Tom offered, and sipped delicately. "But you've not answered!" reminded Fortescue from another table. He dealt the cards round expertly. "Is it hands off, perhaps?" "Certainly," replied his Grace. "It generally is, Frank, as you know." "To my cost!" was the laughing rejoinder, and Fortescue rubbed his sword arm as if in memory of some hurt. "You pinked me finely, Tracy!" "Clumsily, Frank, clumsily. It might have been quicker done." The Viscount, who had been a second at the meeting, tittered amiably. "Neatetht thing I ever thaw, 'pon my honour. All over in leth than a minute, Avon! Give you my word!" "Never knew you had fought Devil, Frank? What possessed you?" "I was more mad than usual, I suppose," replied Fortescue in his low, rather dreamy voice, "and I interfered between Tracy and his French singer. He objected most politely, and we fought it out in Hyde Park." "Gad, yes!" exclaimed his partner, Lord Falmouth. "Why, I was Devil's second! But it was ages ago!" "Two years," nodded Fortescue, "but I have not forgotten, you see!" "Lord, I had! And 'twas the funniest fight I ever saw, with you as furious as could be and Devil cool as a cucumber. You were never much of a swordsman, Frank, but that morning you thrust so wildly that stap me if I didn't think Devil would run you through. 'Stead of that he pinks you neatly through the sword-arm, and damme if you didn't burst out laughing fit to split! And then we all walked off to breakfast with you, Frank, as jolly as sandboys. Heavens, yes. That was a fight!" "It was amusing," admitted Tracy at Fortescue's elbow. "Don't play, Frank."