"Did you put that paper on this looking-glass?" he shouted.

"I did not put that paper on that looking-glass," replied Clarence
precisely.

"Ah," said the Grand Duke, "if you had, I'd have come and wrung your
neck like a chicken, and scattered you to the four corners of this
dressing-room."

"I'm glad I didn't," said Clarence.

"Have you read this paper on the looking-glass?"

"I have not read that paper on the looking-glass," replied Clarence,
whose chief fault as a conversationalist was that he was perhaps a
shade too Ollendorfian. "But I know its contents."

"It's a lie!" roared the Grand Duke. "An infamous lie! I've a good mind
to have him up for libel. I know very well he got them to put those
paragraphs in, if he didn't write them himself."

"Professional jealousy," said Clarence, with a sigh, "is a very sad
thing."

"I'll professional jealousy him!"

"I hear," said Clarence casually, "that he _has_ been going very
well at the Lobelia. A friend of mine who was there last night told me
he took eleven calls."