"Gervase, it is no use, I cannot stand this sort of thing. We must
have it out. What does it all mean?"

"It is difficult to explain, my dear boy," answered Gervase, half
seriously, half mockingly. "It means, I presume, that we are both
in love with the same woman, and that we both intend to try our
chances with her. But, as I told you the other night, I do not see
why we should quarrel about it. Your intentions towards the
Princess are honorable--mine are dishonorable, and I shall make no
secret of them. If you win her, I shall ..."

He paused, and there was a sudden look in his eyes which gave them
a sombre darkness, darker than their own natural color.

"You shall--what?" asked Denzil.

"Do something desperate," replied Gervase. "What the something
will be depends on the humor of the moment. A tiger balked of his
prey is not an agreeable beast; a strong man deprived of the woman
he passionately desires is a little less agreeable even than the
tiger. But let us adopt the policy of laissez-faire. Nothing is
decided; the fair one cares for neither of us; let us be friends
until she makes her choice."

"We cannot be friends," said Denzil, sternly.

"Good! Let us be foes then, but courteous, even in our quarrel,
dear boy. If we must kill each other, let us do it civilly. To fly
at each other's throats would be purely barbaric. We owe a certain