The duelist turned, and saw the mask-like face of Weir, and a pair of eyes that were as cold as ice.
"I would advise, Mr. Tarrant," said Weir, "that you carry this matter no further. When the facts are known, it will be generally seen that you cannot require any action from this gentleman except that which he is giving you."
The eyes of Tarrant seemed to dart flame.
"What! What!" breathed Whitaker in Anthony's ear. "He'll not dare face Weir! He'll not dare!"
But before it was made clear what was in Tarrant's mind he was surrounded by a sudden surge of people. There was a hubbub of voices; doors slammed, other people hurried forward; there were oaths and bitter vows, and the pleading of the tavern's people for order. Then Tarrant was led away. Weir bowed to Anthony in return for some word of thanks, and turned back to Dr. King. Whitaker, a little later, with a most leisurely air, settled the bill; then he and Anthony got up, passed through the staring groups about the tables, and left the place.
As the dandy was parting from Anthony at the door of the Half Moon he said:
"Well, I think Weir has ended the matter as far as you are concerned; for, once he's pronounced a judgment on a thing of this kind, no one will think of taking it otherwise. He's an authority. And it will be easier for you, too. As it stood, though I think you were right, you'd have had an extraordinary position to maintain."
"I am much in Mr. Weir's debt," said Anthony.
Whitaker nodded.
"When I heard his voice," he said, "I knew that was the end of it. No matter what Tarrant's state of mind, he'd never try to face down Weir."