“I fear not. You told me last night that all retraction by your friend of his offensive letter was impossible.”
“Utterly so.”
“What, then, would you suggest?”
“Could not Mr. Calvert be brought to see that it was he who gave the first offence? That, in writing, as he did, to a man in my friend’s position—”
“Mere waste of time, colonel, to discuss this; besides, I think we have each of us already said all that we could on this question, and Calvert is very far from being satisfied with me for having allowed myself to entertain it There is really nothing for it but a shot.”
“Yes, Sir; but you seem to forget, if we proceed to this arbitrament, it is not a mere exchange of fire will satisfy my friend.”
“We are, as regards that, completely at his service; and if your supply of ammunition be only in proportion to the number of your followers, you can scarcely be disappointed.”
The colonel reddened deeply, and in a certain irritation replied: “One of these gentlemen is a travelling companion of my friend, whose health is too delicate to permit him to act for him; the other is a French officer of rank, who dined with us yesterday; the third is a surgeon.”
“To us it is a matter of perfect indifference if you come accompanied by fifty, or five hundred; but let us lose no more time. I see how I am trying my friend’s patience already. Ten paces, short paces, too,” began Barnard as he took his friend’s arm.
“And the word?”