man----"

"The gentleman, eh?"

"Did not come here of his own accord, and you've said enough, and done
enough! For my part----"

"I didn't ask for your interference!" the other cried insolently.

"Well, anyway----"

"And I don't want it! And I won't have it; do you hear, Marsh?" Payton
repeated menacingly. "You know me, and I know you."

"I know that you are a better fencer and a better shot than I am,"
Marsh replied, shrugging his shoulders, "and I daresay than any of us.
We are apt to believe it, anyway. But----"

"I would advise you to let that be enough," Payton sneered.

It was then that the Colonel, who had stood silent during the
altercation of which he was the subject, spoke--and in a tone somewhat
altered. "I am much obliged to you, sir," he said, addressing the
sallow-faced man, "but I will cause no further trouble. I crave leave
to say one word only, which may come home to some among you. We are
all, at times, at the mercy of mean persons. Yes, sir, of mean
persons," the Colonel repeated, raising his voice and speaking in a
tone so determined--he seemed another man--that Payton, in the act of
seizing a decanter to hurl at him, hesitated. "For any but a mean
person," Colonel John continued, drawing himself up to his full height,
"finding that he had insulted one who could not meet him on even
terms--one who could not resent the insult in the manner
intended--would have deemed it all one as if he had insulted a
one-armed man, or a blind man, and would have set himself right by an
apology."

At that word Payton found his voice. "Hang your apology!" he cried
furiously.

"By an apology," the Colonel repeated, fixing him with eyes of
unmeasured contempt, "which would have lowered him no more than an
apology to a woman or a child. Not doing so, his act dishonours himself
only, and those who sit with him. And one day, unless I mistake not,
his own blood, and the blood of others, will rest upon his head."

With that word the speaker turned slowly, walked with an even pace to
the door, and opened it, none gainsaying him. On the threshold he
paused and looked back. Something, possibly some chord of superstition
in his breast which his adversary's last words had touched, held Payton
silent: and silent the Colonel's raised finger found him.

"I believe," Colonel John said, gazing solemnly at him, "that we shall
meet again." And he went out.

Payton turned to the table, and, with an unsteady hand, filled a