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. You had it--now I have it--wherefore it must be mine!"
Chauvenet's rigid figure suddenly relaxed; he leaned against a chair with
a return of his habitual nonchalant air, and waved his hand carelessly.
"Between gentlemen--so small a matter!"
"To be sure--the merest trifle," laughed Armitage with entire good humor.
"And where a gentleman has the predatory habits of a burglar and
housebreaker--"
"Then lesser affairs, such as picking up trinkets--"
"Come naturally--quite so!" and Chauvenet twisted his mustache with an
air of immense satisfaction.
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