"Is it the little business?" cried the Captain. "Och? and be Jasus! then, it's jist that affair of my friend Morthaunt, who manes to shoot Sir Christopher-r to-mor-r-row mor-r-r-ning before breakfast."
"Shoot Sir Christopher!" ejaculated Frank, apparently more surprised than annoyed.
"Or else jist get shot himself, be the power-rs!" added Captain O'Blunderbuss. "And it's becase it's myself that's Morthaunt's frind, Sir Christopher has referred me to you as his frind."
"Then it's a regular duel?" said Frank, opening his eyes wider and wider.
"The purtiest little affair I ever had a finger in, Misther Curtis," responded the Captain, now looking tremendously fierce; for although he had imbibed at least a pint of pure spirit without experiencing the least inconvenience in respect to his brain, the effects were nevertheless apparent in an awful rubicundity of countenance: "the purtiest little affair, certainly," he continued; "and it now only remains for you and me jist to settle the place—time being of cour-rse in the mornin at eight."
"And do you mean to say that my old uncle has agreed to fight this duel with Captain Mordaunt?" inquired Frank.
"Be Jasus! it's for you to bring him to the scratch, Misther Curtis; or else——"
"Or else what?" demanded the young gentleman, oppressed by a vague presentiment of evil.
"Or else, be the holy poker-r! you must fight me!" returned Captain O'Blunderbuss, twirling his moustache in the coolest and calmest manner possible.
"Fight you?" ejaculated Frank, turning ashy pale.