Hornblower pulled his trigger. There was a click and a spurt of smoke from the lock of his pistol. The priming had gone off but no more — his was the unloaded weapon, and he knew what it was to die. A tenth of a second later there was a click and spurt of smoke from Simpson's pistol against his heart. Stiff and still they both stood, slow to realize what had happened.
'A miss-fire, by God!' said Danvers.
The seconds crowded round them.
'Give me those pistols!' said Masters, taking them from the weak hands that held them. 'The loaded one might be hanging fire, and we don't want it to go off now.'
'Which was the loaded one?' asked Hether, consumed with curiosity.
'That is something it is better not to know,' answered Masters, changing the two pistols rapidly from hand to hand so as to confuse everyone.
'What about a second shot?' asked Danvers, and Masters looked up straight and inflexibly at him.
'There will be no second shot,' he said. 'Honour is completely satisfied. These two gentlemen have come through this ordeal extremely well. No one can now think little of Mr Simpson if he expresses his regret for the occurrence, and no one can think little of Mr Hornblower if he accepts that statement in reparation.'
Hepplewhite burst into a roar of laughter.
'Your faces!' he boomed, slapping his thigh. 'You ought to see how you all look! Solemn as cows!'