He is "Chez Paz"
"Ye were!"
The other flushed, yet persisted: "Not precisely. One moment—I will explain—"
"Very well," O'Rourke consented ominously.
"Perhaps you are in need of money? Now, I am—"
He got no further; that was a bald impertinence to an O'Rourke, even if to a penniless one; and the destitute adventurer, made thus to realize how desperately he was in reality in need of money, was not pleased.
"That," he broke in placidly, "is none of your damned business!"
"What!"
A deeper shade of red mantled the face of the Frenchman. He stepped back, but, when the Irishman would have passed on, barred the way.
"Will monsieur please to repeat those words?" he requested, with ceremony.
"I will," returned O'Rourke hotly; and obliged. "Now," he concluded, "ye are at liberty to—get—out—of—me—way, sir!"
"But—you have insulted me!"
"Eh?" O'Rourke laughed shortly. "Impossible," he sneered.
"Monsieur! I insist! My card!" He nourished a bit of pasteboard in O'Rourke's face. "For this you shall afford me satisfaction!"
"Angry little one!" jeered O'Rourke. Now thoroughly aroused, he seized the card and tore it into a dozen scraps, without even looking at it.
"I'll afford ye no satisfaction," he drawled exasperatingly, "but—if ye don't remove yourself from me path, faith, I'll step on ye!"
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