"And now," says Jack, "what of Raikes; have you seen aught of him lately?"
"No, Jack."
"But I met Hammersley this morning," says Bentley, "and he was anxious to know when the—the—"
"Meeting was likely to take place?" put in Jack, as he paused; "Purdy tells me I shan't be able to use this foot of mine for a month or more."
"That will put it near Christmas," added Bentley.
"Yes," nodded Jack, "I think we could do no better than Christmas Day."
"A devilish strange time for a duel," says Bentley, "peace on earth, and all that sort of thing, you know."
"Why, it's Pen," says Jack, staring hard into the fire, "she will be at her Aunt Sophia's then, which is fortunate on the whole. I shouldn't care for her to see me—when they bring me home."
For a long time it seemed to me none of us spoke. I fumbled through all my pockets for my snuff-box without finding it (which was strange), and looking up presently, I saw that Bentley had upset his wine, which was trickling down his satin waistcoat all unnoticed.
"Jack," says I at last, "a Gad's name, lend me your snuff-box!"