"Take this to Colonel Morris, at the Trois Freres, and wait an answer."
The man took the message, bowed and hurried away.
The duke sank back in his chair with a deep sigh, and covered his face with his hands, and so awaited the return of his messenger.
Half an hour crept slowly by, and then the groom came back, opened the door, and announced:
"Colonel Morris."
The gallant colonel entered the room, looking as little like the dead shot and notorious duellist he was reported to be, as any fine gentleman could.
He was a tall, slight, fair and refined looking young man, exquisite in dress, soft in speech, and suave in manners.
"You have guessed the reason why I have sent for you, Morris?" said the duke, advancing to meet him, and plunging into the middle of his subject.
"Yes," murmured the colonel, sinking into the seat his host silently offered him.
"You can go, Tompkins. I will ring when I want you," said the duke, throwing himself into his own chair.