he was at the door, Haddo stopped him.

'You have modelled lions at the Jardin des Plantes, my dear Clayson. Have
you ever hunted them on their native plains?'

'No, I haven't.'

Clayson did not know why Haddo asked the question, but he bristled with
incipient wrath.

'Then you have not seen the jackal, gnawing at a dead antelope, scamper
away in terror when the King of Beasts stalked down to make his meal.'

Clayson slammed the door behind him. Haddo was left with Margaret, and
Arthur Burdon, Dr Porhoët, and Susie. He smiled quietly.

'By the way, are _you_ a lion-hunter?' asked Susie flippantly.

He turned on her his straight uncanny glance.

'I have no equal with big game. I have shot more lions than any man
alive. I think Jules Gérard, whom the French of the nineteenth century
called _Le Tueur de Lions_, may have been fit to compare with me, but I
can call to mind no other.'

This statement, made with the greatest calm, caused a moment of silence.
Margaret stared at him with amazement.

'You suffer from no false modesty,' said Arthur Burdon.