Mr. Tredegar had been at the Ambassadress’ ball, and had returned to his hotel about the same hour that Alexander got back there.
So Alexander, instead of going directly to his own apartments, went first to Mr. Tredegar’s room and rapped
“Who’s there?” cried a voice from within.
“It is I. Have you retired yet?”
“No. Come in.”
Alick entered and found his friend, divested of his coat and vest and preparing for bed.
“Put on your clothes again, Francis, you must do something for me before you sleep,” said Alexander, walking towards the dressing-table at which Mr. Tredegar stood, with his back to his visitor.
“Good gracious, Alick, my dear fellow, what on earth can you want me to do for you at four o’clock in the morning, after having made a night of it at the ball?” laughed Francis Tredegar, turning around in much surprise; but his surprise became consternation as he gazed on the haggard features and ghastly complexion of his visitor. “Merciful Heaven, Alick!” he exclaimed, “what is the matter? What on earth has happened to you?”
“I have been insulted, outraged, beyond all endurance. And I want you to be the bearer of a challenge from me!” grimly replied Alexander.
“A challenge, Alick! In the name of reason, are you mad?”