Suddenly and excitedly Palencia cried: “My principal is touched.”
“Halt,” de Fresnoy, intervening with raised stick, commanded.
Verplank moved back. “Damn him,” he muttered, “I haven’t done with him yet.”
About Barouffski now, Palencia and the young man with the serious face had come. The latter was examining Barouffski’s right arm. On it a thin red line was visible. Very gravely the young man looked up.
“My client is disabled. Profound incision in the region of the flexor digitorum sublimis accompanied by a notable effusion of blood.”
The old surgeon chuckled. Confidentially as before he addressed Verplank. “I know that term. It means a scratch. Those ladies there, it must amuse even them.”
As he spoke he indicated a window at which Violet and Leilah had appeared, but from which now Leilah was retreating.
Verplank did not hear, did not see. The young surgeon, resuming, had announced himself as opposed to a continuation of the encounter. It was this that preoccupied Verplank.
Loudly and angrily he cried: “Let’s have pistols then. That man can use his left hand and I’ll do the same.”