“This is a silly business, and likely to land us all in a nasty mess. Is there no way out of it?”
“None that I know of, unless your young friend will eat dirt. He is a nasty-tempered fellow, Kershaw, and wild about that woman, over whom he has spent thousands. Nor is he likely to forgive being rolled in the gutter. You had better get your man to give in, for if you don’t, Kershaw will kill him.”
“It is no good talking of it. I have lived a rough life, and know what men are made of. He is not of that sort. Besides, your man is in the wrong, not that boy. If anybody spoke of my mother like that, I would shoot him.”
“Very good, Mr. Alston. And now about the pistols; I have none.”
“I have a pair of Smith & Wesson revolvers that I bought yesterday to take out to Africa with me. They throw a very heavy bullet, Captain Justice.”
“Too heavy. If one of them is hit anywhere in the body——” He did not finish the sentence.
Mr. Alston nodded. “We must put them twenty paces apart, to give them a chance of missing. And now about the place and the time?”
“I know a place on the beach, about a mile and a half from here, that will do very well. You go down that street till you strike the beach, then turn to your right, and follow the line of the sea till you come to a deserted hut or cottage. There we will meet you.”
“At what time?”
“Let me see; shall we say a quarter to five? It will be light enough for us then.”