Ludovic handed it to him. “Yes, it’s one of Manton’s. I’ve a pair of his duelling pistols, too—beautiful pieces of work!”
Sir Hugh subjected the pistol to a careful inspection. “Myself I don’t care for silver sights. Apt to dazzle the eye.” He sighted along the pistol. “Nice balance, but too short in the barrel. No accuracy over twelve yards.”
Ludovic’s eye gleamed. “Do you think so? I’ll engage to culp a wafer at twenty!”
“With this gun?” said Sir Hugh incredulously.
“With that gun.”
“I’ll lay you a pony you don’t.”
“Done!” said Ludovic promptly.
“And where,” inquired Miss Thane, “do you propose to hold this contest?”
“Oh, in the yard!” said Ludovic, receiving the pistol back from Sir Hugh.
“That, of course, will be very nice,” said Miss Thane politely. “The ostlers will thus be able to see you. I forbid you to encourage him, Hugh. Let us admit that he is a crack shot, and be done with it.”