“Prince Kapolski is in the hospital, and I fear he cannot recover,” said the prince. “I came to tell you this that you may act accordingly and with all the haste possible.”
“O, I don't know why I should run away. Everybody there will testify that the fight was forced upon me. You will swear to that, yourself, Prince Ugo, and so will the count. I had to fight, you know.”
“It seems to me, Mr. Savage, that you were rather eager to fight. I cannot vouch for your safety if the prince dies,” said Ugo, coolly.
“But he isn't going to die. I did not shoot to kill and the ball hit him just where I intended it should—on the chin. He'll be well in a couple of weeks. True, he may not feel like eating tough beefsteak with that jaw for some time, but I knew a fellow once who was able to eat very comfortably after six weeks. That was as good a shot as I ever made, Phil,” said Dickey, reflectively.
“I think Buckner's nose was a cleaner shot. It wasn't nearly so disgusting,” said Phil.
“Do you mean to say you are able to hit a man just where you please?” demanded the count.
“Provided he does not hit me first,” said Mr. Savage. “Gentlemen, let me order up a quiet little drink. I am afraid the unfortunate affair of last night has twisted your nerves a bit. It was rather ghastly, wasn't it?”
When the four parted company in front of the hotel, a quarter of an hour later, the two Italians sat down to reflect. They wondered whether Mr. Savage usually carried a pistol in his pocket, and they agreed that if he did have one of his own he would be much more accurate with it than with a strange one, such as he had used the night before. The two Americans were not jubilant as they strolled up the street. They had put on a very bold front but they were saying to themselves that Kapolski's death would be a very disastrous calamity. Cold perspiration stood on Dickey's brow and he devoutly prayed that his victim would recover.
“I'd feel like a butcher to the last day of my life,” he groaned.
“The big brute got what he deserved, Dickey, but that isn't going to relieve us if he should die. Prince Ugo would use it as an excuse to drive you out of Europe and, of course, I would not desert you. It was my affair and you were unlucky enough to get into it. There is one thing that puzzles me. I directly insulted Ravorelli last night. Why does he not challenge me? He must be positive that I recognize him as Pavesi and can ruin him with a word. I am told he is a remarkable shot and swordsman, and I don't believe he is a coward.”