"I'm afraid it's true," said Whitaker. "He's of that fashion and has winged his man a dozen times or more."
"But the law," said Mrs. King.
"Of course," said the dandy. "There is one. But who would dare appeal to it?"
When they had taken their leave of Mrs. Newell a little later, Whitaker hooked his arm into Anthony's as they turned out of the little court.
"Tarrant will have this fellow's blood," said he. "It will be the regulation number of paces, a quick exchange, and then God send the poor devil a good surgeon!"
Anthony said nothing, and so Whitaker's mind turned to a matter of more immediate moment.
"I'm supping at the Crooked Billet to-night," said he. "If you have nothing urgent to occupy you, suppose you join me. It's an excellent place. Their venison pie is famous."
Anthony gave cordial agreement to this, and the two, still arm in arm, strolled toward the river.