“He struck you first, I understand, and you knocked him down. Good! My tennis-courts are out of the way. We can settle this matter to-morrow morning at dawn. Ellicott will come over from Cadenabbia with his saws. He’s close-mouthed. All you need to do is to keep quiet. You can spend the night at the villa with me, and I’ll give you a few ideas about shooting a pistol. Here; write what I dictate.” He pushed Abbott over to the desk and forced him into the chair. Abbott wrote mechanically, as one hypnotized. The colonel seized the letter. “No flowery sentences; a few words bang at the mark. Come up to the villa as soon as you can. We’ll jolly well cool this Italian’s blood.”
And out he went, banging the door. There was something of the directness of a bullet in the old fellow’s methods.
Literally, Abbott had been rushed off his feet. The moment his confusion cleared he saw the predicament into which his own stupidity and the amiable colonel’s impetuous good offices had plunged him. He was horrified. Here was Courtlandt carrying the apology, and hot on his heels was the colonel, with the final arrangements for the meeting. He ran to the door, bareheaded, took the stairs three and four at a bound. But the energetic Anglo-Indian had gone down in bounds also; and when the distracted artist reached the street, the other was nowhere to be seen. Apparently there was nothing left but to send another apology. Rather than perform so shameful and cowardly an act he would have cut off his hand.
The Barone, pale and determined, passed the second note to Courtlandt who was congratulating himself (prematurely as will be seen) on the peaceful dispersion of the war-clouds. He was dumfounded.
“You will excuse me,” he said meekly. He must see Abbott.
“A moment,” interposed the Barone coldly. “If it is to seek another apology, it will be useless. I refuse to accept. Mr. Abbott will fight, or I will publicly brand him, the first opportunity, as a coward.”
Courtlandt bit his mustache. “In that case, I shall go at once to Colonel Caxley-Webster.”
“Thank you. I shall be in my room at the villa the greater part of the day.” The Barone bowed.
Courtlandt caught the colonel as he was entering his motor-boat.
“Come over to tiffin.”