hand of Fate and to find
therein a very real satisfaction, for I have long been possessed of a
most earnest desire to kill you--as indeed I think I should ha' done
years ago but for a slip of the foot." The Major bowed:

"May I pour you a glass of wine, Captain Effingham? he enquired.

"Not now sir, I thank you," answered Mr. Dalroyd, languidly testing the
play of right hand and wrist, "afterwards, perhaps!"

"You are without your sword, I perceive sir," said the Major.

"Gad, yes sir!" lisped Mr. Dalroyd, smiling, "in our hurry we left it
behind in the coach."

"Still, you will prefer swords, of course?"

"Of course, sir."

"Go, bring the duelling-swords, Sergeant," said the Major and sitting
down filled himself a glass of wine while Mr. Dalroyd gently smoothed
and patted wrist and sword-hand with long, white fingers and the
Colonel, standing on the hearth, his feet wide apart, stared from one
serene, deadly face to the other.

"Ten years, sir, is a fair span of life," said Mr. Dalroyd musingly,
"and in that time Fortune hath been kind to you, 'twould seem. You
have here a noble heritage to--ah--leave behind you to some equally
fortunate wight!" Here he turned to glance at the wicked-looking
weapons Sergeant Zebedee had laid upon the table. "When you have
finished your wine, sir, I will play Providence to that fortunate
wight, whoever he may be, and put him in possession of his heritage as
soon as possible." The Major bowed, emptied his glass and rising,
proceeded to remove coat and waistcoat and, with the Sergeant's aid, to
draw off his long riding-boots and rolled back snowy shirt from his
broad chest while Mr. Dalroyd, having kicked off his buckled shoes, did
the same.

"We have no surgeon here, I perceive," he smiled. "Ah well, so much
the better." So saying, he took up the nearest sword haphazard,
twirled it, made a rapid pass in the air and stood waiting.

"My Lord Cleeve," said the Major as the Colonel drew his weapon and
stepped forward, "when once we engage you will on no account strike up
our swords----"

"But damme, man Jack, how if you wound each other----"

"Why then sir," murmured Mr. Dalroyd quietly, testing the suppleness of
his blade, "we shall proceed to--exterminate one another. This is to
the death, my lord!"

The library was a long, spacious chamber with the broad fireplace at
one end; moreover the Sergeant had already set back the furniture
against the wall and rolled up