‘It’s all nothing, sir,’ said Dickie in suspicious haste, ‘absolutely nothing. We were larking about with these two old swords, and the other chap’s point scratched my hand, that’s all, sir—’pon my word.’
‘Does the other chap’s version correspond?’ inquired the earl, looking keenly at Lucian’s flushed face. ‘Eh, other chap?’
Lucian faced him boldly.
‘No, sir,’ he answered; ‘what he says is not true, though he means honourably. I meant to punish him—to kill him.’
‘A candid admission,’ said the earl, toying with his glasses. ‘You appear to have effected some part of your purpose. And his offence?’
‘He——’ Lucian paused. The two girls, fascinated at the sight of the rapiers, the combatants, and the blood, had drawn near and were staring from one boy’s face to the other’s; Lucian hesitated at sight of them.
‘Come!’ said the earl sharply. ‘His offence?’
‘He insulted Miss Brinklow,’ said Lucian gravely. ‘I told him I should punish him. Then he told lies—about her. I said I would kill him. A man who lies about a woman merits death.’
‘A very excellent apothegm,’ said the earl. ‘Sprats, my dear, draw that chair for me—thank you. Now,’ he continued, taking a seat and sticking out his gouty leg, ‘let me have a clear notion of this delicate question. Feversham, your version, if you please.’
‘I—I—you see, it’s all one awfully rotten misunderstanding, sir,’ said Dickie, very ill at ease. ‘I—I—don’t like saying things about anybody, but I think Damerel’s got sunstroke or something—he’s jolly dotty, or carries on as if he were. You see, he called me a cad, and said I was rude and brutal to Haidee, just because I—well, because I kissed her behind the laurel hedge when we were larking in the garden, and I said it was nothing and I’d kissed her many a time before, and he said I was a liar, and then—well, then I hit him.’