ance, if not point-blank.

But Kirby had a maxim, Steady shakes them, and he acted on it to receive
his enemy's fire; and the young lord's hand shook, and the Old Buccaneer
stood out of the smoke not much injured, except in the coat-collar, with
a pistol cocked in his hand, and he said:

'Many would take that for a declaration of war, but I know it 's only
your lordship's diplomacy'; and then he let loose to his mad fun,
astounding Lord Cressett and his gamekeeper, and vowed, as the young
lord tried to relate subsequently, as well as he could recollect the
words--here I have it in print:--'that he was a man pickled in saltpetre
when an infant, like Achilles, and proof against powder and shot not
marked with cross and key, and fetched up from the square magazine in
the central depot of the infernal factory, third turning to the right
off the grand arcade in Kingdom-come, where the night-porter has to wear
wet petticoats, like a Highland chief, to make short work of the sparks
flying about, otherwise this world and many another would not have to
wait long for combustion.'

Kirby had the wildest way of talking when he was not issuing orders
under fire, best understood by sailors. I give it you as it stands here
printed. I do not profess to understand.

So Lord Cressett said: 'Diplomacy and infernal factories be hanged! Have
your shot at me; it's only fair.' And Kirby discharged his pistol at the
top twigs of an old oak tree, and called the young lord a Briton, and
proposed to take him in hand and make a man of him, as nigh worthy of
his wife as any one not an Alexander of Macedon could be.

So they became friendly, and the young lord confessed it was his family
that had urged him to the attack; and Kirby abode at the castle, and all
three were happy, in perfect honour, I am convinced: but such was
not the opinion of the Cressetts and Levelliers. Down they trooped to
Cressett Castle with a rush and a roar, crying on the disgrace of an
old desperado like Kirby living there; Dukes, Marchionesses, Cabinet
Ministers, leaders of fashion, and fire-eating colonels of the King's
body-guard, one of whom Captain John Peter Kirby laid on his heels at
ten paces on an April morning, when the duel was fought, as early as the
blessed heavens had given them light to see to do it. Such days those
were!

There was talk of shutting up the infatuated lady. If not incarcerated,
she was rigidly watched. The earl her husband fell altogether