"Hold your tongue, sir!" said Tiverton, looking quietly at him. "Proceed,
Mr. Wheatman!"
It made me smile again, tight as the corner was, to see the play-acting
spirit creeping over him. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
"Therefore, my lord, I should like to ask you a few questions," I
continued.
"Certainly, sir," he replied, with great impressiveness, taking snuff in
great style while he awaited my questioning.
"Is there any doubt that I am the insulted person?"
"None whatever," he replied. "My Lord Brocton insulted you wantonly and
deliberately."
"Then, my lord Marquess, I may be wrong, but I think I have the right of
choosing the place, the time, and the weapons."
"Certainly, Mr. Wheatman," he answered.
"Then if I choose to say, 'On the banks of the Susquehanna, ten years
hence, with tomahawks,' so it must be?"
A wave of scornful laughter went round the room as the question passed
from mouth to mouth. Even the most ardent gamblers left their play to join
the circle around us. English even in their vices, they took a fight for
granted, but were up in a moment to see some fun.
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