"How are you, Gall, old fellow?" he asked, gingerly depositing the case on the ground. "I'm not long after you, you see, Shrewsbury. Where's Loftus?"
"Not come yet," answered the earl. He put his arm within Leek's, and drew him off a little way, talking of the preliminaries in an undertone; not so low, however, but that Gall might have heard had he chosen to listen. Gall sat down on a gentle ridge of the land, and waited. Soon the others came back again; Onions remarking with an offhand manner, as if he wanted to show himself at ease, that they should have a broiling day.
They waited on; waited and waited. Expectation grew into wonder. Loftus and Mr. Bob Brown had arranged to come together, but neither came. Had Loftus's valiant courage deserted him at the eleventh hour? Hardly; but Gall felt gratified that he was not the one to be tardy.
As the clocks were striking six, a shout was heard, and three figures bounded on to the heights. Brown major was the first—and his company had not been bargained for; on the contrary, he had been expressly told by the seconds he was not to come. But the meeting was a great deal too tempting to be withstood: as Brown major remarked, he might never have the luck to get such a chance again. Bertie Loftus, in a white heat, began explaining their unfortunate detention. He shared a double-bedded room at the hotel with Dick, and just as he was about to get up and dress himself, Sir Simon Orville, anxious for Dick's health, walked in without ceremony, sat himself down on Dick's bed, talking, and never (as Bertie phrased it) went out again.
"I couldn't get up while he was there," cried Bertie, speaking savagely in his mortification; "it might have betrayed the whole thing. You should have seen the Guy he was; he had on grey drawers, with a white stripe across 'em, and a long tassel hanging behind from his cotton nightcap."
There was no time to be lost. It was already too late by a good hour, and Leek and Talbot bestirred themselves with a will. The only one of the party who looked grave, somewhat unwilling, was Mr. Robert Brown. What had been great fun in prospective, was very serious now that the time for action came; and the young doctor felt the responsibility that his two or three years of seniority gave him. Putting out of view the possible consequences, he saw that a large share of the blame might afterwards rest upon him.
"I wish you would make it up, gentlemen," he urged.
Nobody listened to him. The seconds were busy pacing the ground, looking to the pistols, holding communion in an undertone. Gall and Loftus were exchanging a civil sentence now and then, to show their indifference. Both were outwardly calm, though perhaps it strained their nerves to appear so; Brown major, with a scared look in his round eyes, went dodging about restlessly, and rather wished, than otherwise, that he had not come.
"All's ready," cried the seconds, returning to them. Of course they knew very little, if anything, of the executive of such meetings, but were doing things according to their best judgment. "We are putting you sideways to the sun, or else one of you must have had it right in his face," said the earl.
"Do we keep our hats on?" asked Gall.