" It's not treachery nor rascality nor stupidity: it is just as at Ulm... it is..."--he seemed to be trying to find the right expression.

" C'est... c'est du Mack.

Nous sommes mackes [It is... it is a bit of Mack.

We are Macked]," he concluded, feeling that he had produced a good epigram, a fresh one that would be repeated.

His hitherto puckered brow became smooth as a sign of pleasure, and with a slight smile he began to examine his nails.