“Sir,” said Dick, with great promptitude when O’Teague had spoken—“Sir, I give you my word that I have no objection to fight Captain Mathews myself.”
“No,” cried Mr. Long. “No laws of honour demand that a gentleman shall stand up before a felon.”
“True, sir,” said Major O’Teague; “but you see, nothing that Captain Mathews has yet done can be construed as an act of felony.”
“Indeed, sir, Captain Mathews and I know better than that,” said Mr. Long.
“’Tis a lie—I swear that ’tis a foul lie!” shouted Mathews. “I admit that years ago—— But there were no proofs that the girl did not die by her own hands. She did it to be revenged upon me. Have you proofs? If you have, pray produce them.”
“I have proof enough to send you to the hangman,” said Mr. Long.
“Sir,” said Major O’Teague, “I did not come hither to listen to such recrimination. You must be aware, Mr. Long, that you have seriously compromised your position as a man of honour by making a vague charge against your opponent a pretext for backing out of a fight with him. If a man was a fool years ago—well, which of us hasn’t been a fool at some time of our life?”
“Sir,” said Mr. Long, “I do not need to be instructed on points of honour by you or any one else. I did not refer to your friend’s felony of four years ago, but to a much more recent act of his.”
“Let us have your proofs, sir, or, by Hivins, my felonious friend will have my assistance in branding you as a coward!” cried Major O’Teague.
Mr. Long was holding between his finger and thumb a small piece of lace before the man had done speaking.