But whatever he may have intended to say, Barouffski interrupted. He was shouting at Verplank, calling, too, at Leilah whom he had got by the arm and whom he would have drawn away, but this Verplank prevented. Shifting his foil to his left hand, with his right he seized Barouffski and with a twist which separated him from Leilah, shoved him aside.
“To your shambles!” he called at him.
But already the others were intervening. Tyszkiewicz with his eternal “Permit me,” got between the two men. Palencia held Barouffski by the shoulder. Silverstairs drew Verplank away, while de Fresnoy, viewing the situation as hopeless, declared the duel at an end.
The actions of all were practically so simultaneous that they were as one to Leilah who, bewildered by the confusion which she herself had caused, horrified by Verplank’s appearance and tortured by the riddle of his interrupted words, now, over the heads of the others, again called to him:
“You say that the story is——”
“At five!” Verplank threw back.
Barouffski, bursting with rage and impotence, shouted:
“I say this conversation must cease.”
The old surgeon, nudging his colleague, laughed: