CHAPTER VI
AN ODD DUEL—THE FATEFUL LETTER J.—I ALSO BECOME A PETER GYURICZA
Emericus Vahot had discovered a youthful humorist whom he attached to the staff of his newspaper. Ultimately he became a most eminent writer, but at first he was quite a savage genius. He knew no languages but Hungarian and Latin. He was really after all a very worthy young fellow. He, too, took his place amongst us at the "Table of Public Opinion," and even brought a pair of friends with him. One of the friends was a wry-shouldered critic, who judged the stage from a philological point of view, but the other was Muki Bagotay. He was not a writer, but a mere figure head. As, however, he drank with us, he considered himself as one of us.
One afternoon the humorist and Muki fell out. Muki had thought good to boast of a certain conquest of his, the humorist had made a joke of it; a squabble ensued, and from words they came to blows. I was not there, but I heard all about it from those who were. There could not be a doubt that the end of it would be a duel. Late in the evening, just as I was preparing to go to bed, the wry-shouldered critic rushed into my room. His face was even more portentous than usual.
"I have to communicate a secret to you, but you must give me your word as a gentleman not to let the matter go any further."
"I give you my word upon it."
"Our friend is going to fight Muki Bagotay to-morrow, I am his second."
"That's all right."
"Would you be so good as to lend us the weapons?"
"My friend, I only possess one pistol, and that is a double-barrelled one."