"I was Sir Julian's friend," I replied. "He knew the love I bore him, and laid this errand as his last charge upon it."
"Really, really," said he, "both you and your friend seem strangely ill-versed in the conduct of gentlemen. You say Sir Julian laid this errand upon you. But I have your bare word for that. It is not enough. And even granting it to be true, my quarrel was with Sir Julian, not with you. One does not fight duels by proxy."
He had recovered his composure, and spoke with an easy superciliousness.
"My lord," I answered, stung by his manner, "I must ask you to get the better of that scruple, as I have of one far more serious, for, after all, one does not as a rule fight duels with murderers."
He started forward in his chair as though he had been struck. I seized the butt of my pistol, for I fancied he was about to throw himself upon me.
"I know more than you think," said I, nodding at him, "and this will prove it to you."
I drew the oval gold box from my fob and tossed it on to his knees. His hands darted at it, and he turned it over and over in his palms, staring at the cover with white cheeks.
"How got you this?" he asked hoarsely, and then remembering himself, "I know nothing of it. I know nothing of it."
"Sir Julian gave it into my hands," said I. "I visited him in his prison on the evening of the 22nd September."
He stared at me for a while, repeating "the 22nd September" like one busy over a sum.