"Well, i' the first place, 'tis a hopeful youth, your nephew, Jack, a lovely lad. Smite me, I never saw an affront more pleasantly bestowed nor more effectively! Such a polished business with him and pure joy for the spectators, he insulted his man so gracefully yet so thoroughly that their steel was out in a twinkling. But the place was cluttered with chairs and tables, so Alvaston and Tripp fell upon Dalroyd and I and Captain West on the Viscount and parted 'em till the matter could be arranged more commodiously for 'em. Well, we cleared the floor and locked the door, they seeming so eager for one another's blood and then—damme, Dalroyd refuses to fight. 'No, gentlemen,' says he, smiling but with death aglare in his eyes, 'I grant Viscount Merivale a day or so more of life, when it suits me to kill him I'll let him know,' and off he goes. 'Tis a vile black business, for if ever I saw a killer, 'tis this Dalroyd. Though why the lad goes out of his way to affront such a man, God only knows. And talking of the affront I've told the story plaguy ill. Here sits Dalroyd, d'ye see, at cards, Jack, and along comes my fine young gentleman and insults him beyond any possibility o' doubt. 'Ah,' says Dalroyd, laying down his cards, 'I believe, I verily believe he means to be offensive!' 'Gad love me, sir,' smiles the Viscount, 'I'm performing my best endeavour that way.' 'You mean to quarrel, then,' says Dalroyd. ''Twill be pure joy, sir!' bows the Viscount. 'Impossible!' sneers Dalroyd. 'Why then, sir,' beams the Viscount, 'perhaps a glass of wine applied outwardly will make my intention quite apparent, because if so, sir, I shall be happy to waste so much good wine on thing of so little worth.' O Jack, 'twas pure—never have I seen it better done. But 'tis an ill business all the same, for when they meet 'twill go ill with the lad, I fear—aye, I greatly fear!"
"Why then, they shan't meet!" said the Major gently.
"Eh—eh?" cried the Colonel. "Damme, Jack—who's to prevent?"
"I, of course, George."
"Aye, but how, a Gad's name?
"First, I do know Dalroyd a rogue unworthy to cross blades with the Viscount——"
"I doubt 'twill serve, Jack, I doubt."
"Secondly, I intend to cross blades with Dalroyd myself."
"You Jack—you? O preposterous! Smite me, 'tis most irregular."
"Indeed and so it is, George, but——" the Major smiled, and knowing that smile of old the Colonel shrugged his shoulders. "I will but ask you to be here in this room to-morrow night at—say twelve o'clock—alone, George."