Miss Challoner, who saw that Mr. Comyn was hopelessly over-weighted, looked round for a suitable weapon. She caught sight of the water-jug still standing on the table, and with her usual presence of mind picked it up. “Stand aside, Juliana!” she said coolly, and dashed the water impartially over both men. Miss Marling, having paid no heed to the warning, also received her share, and fell back, gasping.
The sudden shock must have sobered his lordship, for he released his grip on Mr. Comyn’s throat, and put up his hands to wipe the wet out of his eyes. Mr. Comyn went staggering backwards, feeling his neck, and coughing. Miss Marling ran to him, sobbing: “Frederick! oh, my poor Frederick, are you hurt?”
It was to be seen that Mr. Comyn had lost his prim punctiliousness. He thrust her off unceremoniously, and said angrily: “Hurt? No!” He tried to straighten his damaged neckcloth. He was in as great a rage as the Marquis by this time, and stuttered a little in his haste to utter his challenge. “Swords or pistols?” he demanded. “Choose your weapon, and choose it quickly.”
“No!” cried Juliana, trying to fling her arms round him. “Vidal, you shall not! Frederick, please, please, be calm!”
He disengaged himself from her clinging hands. “Madam, I have nothing whatsoever to say to you,” he snapped. “Be good enough to stand away from me! Well, my lord? Which is it to be?”
The Marquis was looking at Miss Challoner with an odd smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Mary, you little wretch!” he said softly. He turned his head, and his eyes hardened again as they rested on Mr. Comyn’s pale countenance. “Either will do your business for you, you treacherous cur!” he said. “Choose which you will.”
Juliana wrung her hands. “Oh, you’ll kill him! I know you will!” she wailed.
“I shall,” said his lordship silkily.
Miss Challoner grasped the edge of the mantelpiece. “This has gone far enough,” she said. “Please listen to me for a moment.”
Mr. Comyn, who was struggling with his top-boots, said quickly: “Nothing you can say will deter me from fighting his lordship! Pray hold your peace! We will have this out with swords, my lord, and I trust that I may be able to rid the world of one whose instincts are more those of a beast than of a gentleman of breeding.”