He tore the stick from Lord Huntingford's hand and clutched his throat, forcing him down on the seat cushions.

With the exception of the younger man's hard breathing and some gasps from the other, the struggle was noiseless.

Not until Lord Huntingford was growing black in the face did Hugh come to his senses.
Then releasing one hand from the throat, he pinned him with the other and a knee.
"You old scoundrel!" Hugh began, jerking out the scathing words; "if it were not for your old age and your wife I'd drag you on deck and make you apologize on your knees before them all.

I'll spare you that degradation; but if I ever hear of you mentioning the name Ridegway--I've my own reasons for concealing it, and they don't concern you--I'll make some charges in regard to your card playing that will bar you from every club in the world, and, unlike your poor dupes, I am in a position to substantiate them without fear of consequences." Lord Huntingford grudgingly mumbled a throttled promise, and Hugh allowed him to regain his feet.

At that instant Veath, with Grace and Lady Huntingford, standing behind him, opened the door of the smoking-room.
"Here, Veath!" called out Hugh to the astonished Indianian.