My Lord Carnal was never one to let the grass grow beneath his feet. An hour later came his cartel, borne by no less a personage than the Secretary of the colony.
I took it from the point of that worthy's rapier. It ran thus: “SIR,—At what hour to-morrow and at what place do you prefer to die? And with what weapon shall I kill you?”
“Captain Percy will give me credit for the profound reluctance with which I act in this affair against a gentleman and an officer so high in the esteem of the colony,” said Master Pory, with his hand upon his heart. “When I tell him that I once fought at Paris in a duel of six on the same side with my late Lord Carnal, and that when I was last at court my Lord Warwick did me the honor to present me to the present lord, he will see that I could not well refuse when the latter requested my aid.”
“Master Pory's disinterestedness is perfectly well known,” I said, without a smile. “If he ever chooses the stronger side, sure he has strong reasons for so doing. He will oblige me by telling his principal that I ever thought sunrise a pleasant hour for dying, and that there could be no fitter place than the field behind the church, convenient as it is to the graveyard. As for weapons, I have heard that he is a good swordsman, but I have some little reputation that way myself. If he prefers pistols or daggers, so be it.”
“I think we may assume the sword,” said Master Pory.
I bowed.
“You'll bring a friend?” he asked.
“I do not despair of finding one,” I answered, “though my second, Master Secretary, will put himself in some jeopardy.”
“It is combat... outrance, I believe?”
“I understand it so.”