“Impossible,” says I, “it was a duel fought according to the laws; and that I’ll swear to, because I witnessed it. And furthermore, the Captain had first shot, and therefore the greater opportunity.”
“It was none the less a murder, as I have subsequently learnt,” he says, “and I can give you the murderer’s name.”
“His name is not Anthony Dare, I know,” I answered stoutly.
“No, her name is my Lady Barbara Gossiter.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded with an anger that his brutal plainness had provoked.
“Do you see this little bullet on my palm?” says he.
“Well, what have I to do with that?” I asked, “and what has that to do with murder?”
“Alas! too much,” says he. “On returning from the fight I had the misfortune to discover this bullet on this very library carpet, and I wish I could misread its meaning, madam, but that I cannot do; and I’ll show you why I cannot. We settled all the details in this room ere we started for the field. You know, of course, that the fight was forced upon me by the intolerable conduct of the man; but you do not know that he insisted on us firing at twelve paces to make the aim more positive. Nor do you know that he tried by all means in his power to concede the first shot to me, and that when I refused to do other than allow the falling of the coin to dictate it, he looked to the contents of his loaded weapon. Certainly I never guessed that I was to shoot an undefended adversary, but had the thought but come into my mind I could certainly have found some premonitions. Seeing me a trifle pale, he begged me to be quite at my ease, as he knew, he said, that he should be the only one to fall. And further, he wrote this hasty note, and made me promise that when he perished, according to his prophecy, I would deliver this immaculately into your hands. And now have I done so.”
Forthwith he concluded his singular but solemn statement, which had evidently wrought upon his mind to a grave degree, by submitting a sealed missive to my care. With trembling fingers I tore it open, and feverishly read its contents. It said:
“My Dear Madam,—Looking at my sad case with what eyes I may, I find that I cannot be allowed to exist another day as an honourable man. I am a traitor to my king, and in so being have committed a crime against my own soul. Whatever his Majesty in his clemency may think fit to do, this is a fault I cannot pardon in myself. My dear madam, I must beg you to believe that I do not advertise this to you that I may wound your delicacies or give you one solitary pang; but in the interests of my weak brethren I implore you, as an old friend, not to employ those marvellous advantages Nature has given you for the advancement of your private purposes. It is not just, nor is it worthy of the innate humanity of your character. But I will do you at least the kindness to admit that even in this melancholy case of mine my death this morning will add yet another lustre to your terrible, triumphant name. And now, my dear madam, permit me to give you a simple but cordial farewell; my comedy is played.