"My dear sir, it appears you have developed a fox's tail! Zounds! Now he is indeed 'bright-eyed and bushy tailed!' "
Indeed, Chauvelin's pale, fox-like eyes were bright. But with fury, not joy. Suddenly, he too doubled over, mimicking The League's positions. However, he was not in that position from laughing. Instead he was clutching his head and moaning in agony.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH! OOOOOOHH! My head! It-It's splitting open! OOOOOOWWW!"
The laughter died as the Frenchman's cries increased in intensity. Sir Percy stepped forward, concern etched on his noble brow. He didn't like to see anyone in pain, even an enemy such as Chauvelin. But as he moved forward, the doubled-over pain gave one last cry and fell to the ground...
The Englishman hurried over and examined the still form. He bent over Chauvelin briefly, then looked up at his anxious audience.
"Monsieur Chauvelin lives," Percy said, speaking in his leader voice instead of his fop one, "and it appears he will suffer no lasting damage, but..." Here, Sir Percy's voice trailed off and a strange look crossed his face.
"What is it Percy?" Marguerite's musical voice held concern, even for the man who had made her suffer so much.
When Percy didn't answer, Tony repeated the query a little more impatiently.
"Odd's fish, what is the mat...ter..."
The younger man's voice faded away as Percy stepped silently away from the fallen Frenchman.
"Oh my God," someone whispered...