They came most opportunely to the Count's need, and he flung out a hand to indicate them to Sir Terence, a smile of pity on his lips.
"You need but to look to take the answer for yourself," said he.
Sir Terence looked, and laughed.

He knew the secret of Ned Tremayne's heart and could laugh now with relish at that which hitherto had left him darkly suspicious.
"And who shall blame Lady O'Moy ?" Count Samoval pursued.

"A lady so charming and so courted must seek her consolation for the almost unnatural union Fate has imposed upon her.

Captain Tremayne is of her own age, convenient to her hand, and for an Englishman not ill-looking." He smiled at O'Moy with insolent compassion, and O'Moy, losing all his self-control, struck him slapped him resoundingly upon the cheek.
"Ye're a dirty liar, Samoval, a muck-rake," said he.
Samoval stepped back, breathing hard, one cheek red, the other white.
Yet by a miracle he still preserved his self-control.
"I have proved my courage too often," he said, "to be under the necessity of killing you for this blow.

Since my honour is safe I will not take advantage of your overwrought condition." "Ye'll take advantage of it whether ye like it or not," blazed Sir Terence at him.