But how can the determined duelist prepare for death? Can he pray for pardon for past sins when he is about to commit the last, the greatest, the deadliest sin of his life? No, he goes to his fatal work grimly defying man and God, death and hell.
“You have fixed upon the ground?” inquired Alexander, as he brushed his hair, calmly and carefully, as for an evening party, for he had suddenly recovered all his self-possession.
“Yes; it is a small secluded spot at the foot of Noirmont Heights, to which I shall conduct you.”
“And the time?”
“Six. The carriage is ordered at half-past five.”
“Very well. There are but a few moments left; so much the better,” said Alexander, as he finished his toilet.
When they went into their private parlor, they found hot coffee waiting them, thanks to the careful forethought of Francis Tredegar.
When they had finished their coffee the carriage was announced, and they arose.
“I have laid the train so that the coachman, and even the servants, think we are a party of geologists going to the mountain to search for geological specimens. They will take our pistol-case for a box of tools and think all right,” explained Francis Tredegar, as they descended the stairs.
“Then, to complete the ruse, we must leave the cab at some short distance from the dueling ground.”