“They make pistols admirably now-a-days,” said Linton, dryly; “even the least athletic can pull a hair-trigger.”
Cashel made no answer to this speech, but stood still, uncertain how to act.
“Come, come,” said Linton, “you are giving the whole thing an importance it does not merit; just let the old peer have the pleasure of his bit of heroism, and it will all end as I have mentioned. They 'll leave this to-morrow early, reach Killaloe to breakfast, whence Kilgoff will start for the place of meeting, and, by ten o'clock, you 'll be there also. The only matter to arrange is, whom you 'll get Were it a real affair, I 'd say Upton, or Frobisher; but, here, it is a question of secrecy, not skill. I 'd advise, if possible, your having MacFarline.”
“Sir Andrew?” said Cashel, half laughing.
“Yes; his age and standing are precisely what we want here. He'll not refuse you; and if he should, it's only telling Lady Janet that we want to shoot Kilgoff, and she 'll order him out at once.”
“I protest it looks more absurd than ever!” said Roland, impatiently.
“That is merely your own prejudice,” said Linton. “You cannot regard single combat but as a life struggle between two men, equal not merely in arms, but alike in bodily energy, prowess, skill, and courage. We look on the matter here as a mere lottery, wherein the less expert as often draws the prize—But there, as I vow, that was two o'clock! It struck, and I promised to see Kilgoff again to-night. By the way, he 'll want horses. Where can he get them?”
“Let him take mine; there are plenty of them, and he 'll never know anything of it.”
“Very true. What an obliging adversary, that actually 'posts' his enemy to the ground!”
“How am I to see MacFarline to-night?”