Nutter and Sturk had a tussle--and the thing happened, you
know--and Sturk got the worst of it, and was, in fact, despatched, why,
you know the kind of panic--and--and--the panic--you know--a poor dog,
finding himself so situated, would be in--with the bitter, old quarrel
between them--d'ye see? And this at the back of his vapours and
blue-devils, for he was dumpish enough before, and would send a man like
Nutter into a resolution of making away with himself; and that's how it
happened, you may safely swear.'

'And what do _you_ think, Mr. Dangerfield?' asked the major.

'Upon my life,' said Dangerfield, briskly, lowering his newspaper to his
knee, with a sharp rustle, 'these are questions I don't like to meddle
in. Certainly, he had considerable provocation, as I happen to know; and
there was no love lost--that I know too. But I quite agree with Doctor
Toole--if he was the man, I venture to say 'twas a fair fight. Suppose,
first, an altercation, then a hasty blow--Sturk had his cane, and a
deuced heavy one--he wasn't a fellow to go down without knowing the
reason why; and if they find Nutter, dead or alive, I venture to say
he'll show some marks of it about him.'

Cluffe wished the whole company, except himself, at the bottom of the
Red Sea; for he was taking his revenge of Puddock, and had already lost
a gammon and two hits. Little Puddock won by the force of the dice. He
was not much of a player; and the sight of Dangerfield--that repulsive,
impenetrable, moneyed man, who had 'overcome him like a summer cloud,'
when the sky of his fortunes looked clearest and sunniest, always led
him to Belmont, and the side of his lady-love.

If Cluffe's mind wandered in that direction, his reveries were rather
comfortable. He had his own opinion about his progress with Aunt
Rebecca, who had come to like his conversation, and talked with him a
great deal about Puddock, and always with acerbity; Cluffe, who was a
sort of patron of Puddock's, always, to do him justice, defended him
respectfully. And Aunt Rebecca would listen very attentively, and then
shake her head, and say, 'You're a great deal too good-natured,
captain; and he'll never thank you for your pains, _never_--_I_ can tell
you.'

Well, Cluffe knew that the higher powers favoured Dangerfield; and that,
beside his absurd sentiment, not to say passion, which could not but be
provoking, Puddock's complicity in the abortive hostilities of poor
Nutter and the gallant O'Fla