m the glass. There was no fireplace, no
furniture; there was nothing: besides the cobwebs and the dust, the four
men were the only objects there which were not a part of the structure.

Strange enough they looked in the yellow light of the candle. The one
who had so reluctantly alighted was especially spectacular--he might
have been called sensational. He was of middle age, heavily built, deep
chested, and broad shouldered. Looking at his figure, one would have
said that he had a giant's strength; at his features, that he would use
it like a giant. He was clean shaven, his hair rather closely cropped
and gray. His low forehead was seamed with wrinkles above the eyes, and
over the nose these became vertical. The heavy black brows followed the
same law, saved from meeting only by an upward turn at what would
otherwise have been the point of contact. Deeply sunken beneath these,
glowed in the obscure light a pair of eyes of uncertain color, but
obviously enough too small. There was something forbidding in their
expression, which was not bettered by the cruel mouth and wide jaw. The
nose was well enough, as noses go; one does not expect much of noses.
All that was sinister in the man's face seemed accentuated by an
unnatural pallor--he appeared altogether bloodless.

The appearance of the other men was sufficiently commonplace; they were
such persons as one meets and forgets that he met. All were younger than
the man described, between whom and the eldest of the others, who stood
apart, there was apparently no kindly feeling. They avoided looking at
each other.

"Gentlemen," said the man holding the candle and keys, "I believe
everything is right. Are you ready, Mr. Rosser?"

The man standing apart from the group bowed and smiled.

"And you, Mr. Grossmith?"

The heavy man bowed and scowled.

"You will be pleased to remove your outer clothing."

Their hats, coats, waistcoats, and neckwear were soon removed and thrown
outside the door, in the passage. The man with the candle now nodded,
and the fourth man--he who had urged Grossmith to leave the
wagon--produced from the pocket of his overcoat two long,
murderous-looking bowie-knives, which he drew now from their leather
scabbards.

"They are exactly alike," he said, presenting one to each of the two
principals--for by this time the dullest observer would have understood
the nature of this meeting. It was to be a duel to the death.

Each combatant took a knife, exa