"Dooce take me, she's none so old----"

"Old!" repeated the Major, "nay indeed I----"

"She's no filly I'll allow, Jack, but then I shed my colt's teeth long ago. Nay, she's rather in her blooming prime, summer--er--languishing to autumn----"

"Autumn!" murmured the Major, staring.

"No--I see nought against it unless--O smite me, Jack!" The Colonel set down his gla.s.s and stared at the Major who stared back at him.

"Unless what, George?"

"Unless y'are bitten too." The Major frowned into the fire again. "If y'are, Jack, if y'are, why then damme I'll not come athwart ya'--no, no--old friends--Gad, no! I'll ride away to-morrow and give you a clear field."

"I shall never marry--never, George!" said the Major and sighed deeper than ever. The Colonel refilled his gla.s.s, raised it to his lips, sighed in turn and put it down again.

"Love's a plaguy business!" he groaned. "How old are ye, Jack?"

"Forty-two, almost."

"And I'm forty-five--quite. And i' faith, Jack, when the curst disease plagues men of our age 'tis there to stay. None the less, man Jack, if ya' love her, why then Belinda's not for me----"

"Belinda!" exclaimed the Major.

"Aye, who else? What the dooce, man?"

"I--egad, George, I thought--"

"What did ya' think?"

"'Twas Lady Betty you had in mind."

"Lady Bet----!" The Colonel whistled. "So-ho!" he exclaimed and turned, full of eager questions but seeing how the Major scowled into the fire again, sipped his wine instead and thereafter changed the subject abruptly.

"Ya'r Viscount's a fine lad, Jack!" The Major's brow cleared instantly.

"Aye, indeed, Tom's a man, 'spite all his modish airs and affectations, a man! Where is he, by the way?"

"Went to bed hours since and very rightly, seeing what's toward."

"As what, George?"

"His forthcoming duel with Dalroyd." The Major sat suddenly upright.

"A duel with--Dalroyd!"

"What, didn't ya' know?"

"Not a word."

"Why true, it only happened this evening."

"And when do they fight?"

"That's the curst queer thing about the affair. I don't know, he don't know--n.o.body knows but Dalroyd. 'Tis a black business, Jack, a black business and looks ill for the lad!"

"Aye!" said the Major, rising and beginning to pace to and fro. "Pray tell me of it, George."

"Well, i' the first place, 'tis a hopeful youth, your nephew, Jack, a lovely lad. Smite me, I never saw an affront more pleasantly bestowed nor more effectively! Such a polished business with him and pure joy for the spectators, he insulted his man so gracefully yet so thoroughly that their steel was out in a twinkling. But the place was cluttered with chairs and tables, so Alvaston and Tripp fell upon Dalroyd and I and Captain West on the Viscount and parted 'em till the matter could be arranged more commodiously for 'em. Well, we cleared the floor and locked the door, they seeming so eager for one another's blood and then--damme, Dalroyd refuses to fight. 'No, gentlemen,' says he, smiling but with death aglare in his eyes, 'I grant Viscount Merivale a day or so more of life, when it suits me to kill him I'll let him know,' and off he goes. 'Tis a vile black business, for if ever I saw a killer, 'tis this Dalroyd. Though why the lad goes out of his way to affront such a man, G.o.d only knows. And talking of the affront I've told the story plaguy ill. Here sits Dalroyd, d'ye see, at cards, Jack, and along comes my fine young gentleman and insults him beyond any possibility o' doubt. 'Ah,' says Dalroyd, laying down his cards, 'I believe, I verily believe he means to be offensive!' 'Gad love me, sir,' smiles the Viscount, 'I'm performing my best endeavour that way.'

'You mean to quarrel, then,' says Dalroyd. ''Twill be pure joy, sir!'

bows the Viscount. 'Impossible!' sneers Dalroyd. 'Why then, sir,'

beams the Viscount, 'perhaps a gla.s.s of wine applied outwardly will make my intention quite apparent, because if so, sir, I shall be happy to waste so much good wine on thing of so little worth.' O Jack, 'twas pure--never have I seen it better done. But 'tis an ill business all the same, for when they meet 'twill go ill with the lad, I fear--aye, I greatly fear!"

"Why then, they shan't meet!" said the Major gently.

"Eh--eh?" cried the Colonel. "Damme, Jack--who's to prevent?"

"I, of course, George."

"Aye, but how, a Gad's name?

"First, I do know Dalroyd a rogue unworthy to cross blades with the Viscount----"

"I doubt 'twill serve, Jack, I doubt."

"Secondly, I intend to cross blades with Dalroyd myself."

"You Jack--you? O preposterous! Smite me, 'tis most irregular."

"Indeed and so it is, George, but----" the Major smiled, and knowing that smile of old the Colonel shrugged his shoulders. "I will but ask you to be here in this room to-morrow night at--say twelve o'clock--alone, George."

"When you use that tone, Jack, I know you'll do't. But how you'll contrive thing so impossible is beyond me. And talking of Dalroyd the resemblance is strong, he's very like----"

"Ah, you mean like Effingham."

"Aye, like Effingham--and yet again he's--different, Jack, and besides 'tis impossible!"

"Ten years must needs alter a man," said the Major thoughtfully.

"George, I'd give very much to know if Dalroyd bears a certain scar."

"Impossible, Jack--quite, your thrust was too sure."

"Hum!" said the Major, "howbeit I cross blades with Dalroyd as soon as possible, which reminds me I've made no will and 'tis best to be prepared, George, and you shall witness it if you will."

So the doc.u.ment was drawn up, blunt and soldier-like, and duly attested.

"A will, Jack," said the Colonel throwing down the pen, "is a curst dust to dust and dry bones business, let's ha' another bottle."

"Egad, and so we will!" answered the Major. "And drink success to thy wooing, George."