He broke forth suddenly into French.
"I would call him a liar, M'sieur," he cried fiercely.

"I would call him a liar, once-twice--three times, and then if he said it again I would fight him.

Mon Dieu, but it would be no sin to kill one with a mouth like that!" Philip was conscious of the hot blood rushing to his face as he bent over his bunk.

The depths of Pierrot's faith shamed him, and he crawled silently between the blankets and turned his face to the wall.

Pierrot extinguished the light, and a little later Philip could hear his deep breathing.