'Your cowardice, sir.'
'What! Do you dare in my own house to use such words?'
'I use them, of course, most deliberately. And now, sir, that you have raised the question of the worthiness of my friend to meet you in a combat of honour, you must first permit me to state that in denying that fitness, every statement that you have made is a falsehood. First, as to his blood: he is a gentleman. And I know that in proving he is your equal in this respect, you will pardon me for asking certain questions of you, as you will my making certain statements of fact respecting him. Pray, sir, who was your father?'
'A gentleman. He was the owner of this property; and held the position of magistrate in this county, as I do.' Mr. Harland bowed.
'And who, then, sir, was his father?'
Mr. Ham winced; turned red; and then stood up, glaring at his interrogator the picture of wild but impotent rage.
'I will not press the question, Mr. Ham; I will answer it. He was what we describe as a "common person." That is, he was not a gentleman.' Mr. Ham's face was dark with rage; but it soon began to assume its ashen colour.
'Now, sir, Mr. Gray's father is a younger son of a fifth earl in the British peerage. He is therefore by blood fit to meet in the field of honour the grandson of a—Nobody. Then, sir, as to the undefined charges against his character, they are gratuitous falsehoods. If, with these facts before you, a refusal of satisfaction is still made, I have only this to say: the unpleasant task of horsewhipping you remains to my friend; while the duty of proclaiming your cowardice remains to me. What is your answer?'
'Though your language has been such as I never believed that anybody would dare use in my house, I am constrained to accept your statements respecting your friend's fitness to meet me in the field of honour.' Then, as a spasm of terror almost convulsed him, he suddenly asked:
'What weapons does he propose? I cannot fence.'