"You do not know, then, that Mr. Frank may claim to be the finest pistol shot in the British army."
Julian looked at his brother in astonishment. "I did not know that you had ever fired a pistol in your life, Frank."
"I practised pretty hard while I was at Canterbury," Frank answered. "I suppose that I had a good eye for it, and certainly came to be what you would call a good shot, though I dare say there are others just as good. I got involved in a quarrel with the man who has just passed me, who was a captain in the Lancers, and a notorious bully and duellist. We went out. I hit him in the hand, and he lost his arm above the elbow, and there was the end of it."
"Perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me a little more about it, Mr. Strelinski," Julian said, turning to the Pole, and in spite of a growl from Frank that there was nothing to tell, the Pole related the whole circumstances of the quarrel, the feeling that had been excited by it, Frank's expressed determination not to inflict serious injury upon the man but to carry away his trigger-finger only, and so put an end to his duels in the future, and the manner in which his intention was carried out.
"Well, I congratulate you, Frank, very heartily," Julian said, when Strelinski had finished. "Why on earth did you not tell me about this before?"
"Really, Julian, there was nothing to tell about. It was a disagreeable incident altogether, and I considered then, as I have considered since, that it was hardly fair of me to go out with him when I was so certain of my shooting, and it was a hundred to one in my favour. I should never have done it if he had not forced the quarrel upon young Wilmington; for the young fellow must either have gone out, which would have been throwing away his life, or left the service."
"Unfair, my dear Frank! why the man himself had always relied upon his superior skill, and you were able to beat him at his own game. Well, I wish I could shoot as well. However, as I am not going to do any more soldiering, I don't know that it would be of much use to me; still I should like to be able to do it."
The next morning they started by coach for Weymouth, leaving Julian's heavier luggage to follow by carrier waggon. Mrs. Troutbeck's joy, when her two nephews arrived together, for a time completely overpowered her, and smelling salts and other restoratives had to be brought into play before she recovered. The event created quite an excitement in Weymouth. The appearance of Frank's name so frequently in Sir Robert Wilson's despatches had been a source of pride to the whole town, and especially to his old school-fellows, while the clearing up of the mystery that had so long hung over Julian's fate was no less interesting. The sympathy with him was so great and general that no one was surprised or shocked that, under the circumstances, he had been driven to enlist in the French army, and had taken part in the Russian campaign. Indeed, the fact that he had been one of Ney's celebrated division, whose bravery had excited general admiration, was considered a feather in his cap, especially when it became known that he had been awarded the Cross of the Legion of Honour by Napoleon himself. Had not the brothers received the proposal most unfavourably, a public dinner would have been got up to celebrate their return.
"Well, Julian, you will have to settle what you mean to do with yourself," Frank said one day. "You can never settle down here without any occupation whatever, after what you have gone through."
"No, I quite feel that, Frank. I have had enough of soldiering; that one campaign is enough for a life time. I really can hardly make up my mind what to do. Aunt was speaking to me yesterday afternoon when you were out. The dear old soul said that it was nonsense for me to wait for her death, wasting my life here, and that she was anxious to hand me over at once half her money. She said that that would be £10,000, and with the £8,000—my share of father's money—I could then buy an estate."