The smooth golden surface gleamed in the light, the helmet in blue, and the white falcon flashed in Armitage's eyes.

The meeting was clearly by intention, and a slight smile played about Chauvenet's lips in his enjoyment of the situation.

Armitage smiled up at him in amiable acknowledgment of his courtesy, and rose.
"You are very considerate, Monsieur.

I was just at the moment regretting our distinguished host's oversight in providing cigars alone.

Allow me!" He bent forward, took the outstretched open case into his own hands, removed a cigarette, snapped the case shut and thrust it into his trousers pocket,--all, as it seemed, at a single stroke.
"My dear sir," began Chauvenet, white with rage.
"My dear Monsieur Chauvenet," said Armitage, striking a match, "I am indebted to you for returning a trinket that I value highly." The flame crept half the length of the stick while they regarded each other; then Armitage raised it to the tip of his cigarette, lifted his head and blew a cloud of smoke.
"Are you able to prove your property, Mr.Armitage ?" demanded Chauvenet furiously.
"My dear sir, they have a saying in this country that possession is nine points of the law.