The effect was electrical. The prince’s face went white with rage. Then he calmed, and a smile overspread his face.
“Pardon me, sir, but I’ll get yours,” he replied with a low bow.
Poblath interjected: “You poor fool, Cabot! Prince Yuri is the best duelist in all Cupia.”
“‘A brink may hop once too often beneath the kerkool,’” I quoted. “But come, I see that we do not rush at each other as they do in Formia. What are supposed to be the formalities here?”
“You will learn soon enough,” Yuri growled, scowling ominously.
But Poblath more kindly explained: “Each of you chooses an attendant, and then the attendants tie you together, and you kill with knives.”
This reminded me of Mark Twain’s “Gatling guns at fifteen paces.” I chose Poblath, and Yuri chose one of his own suite. A peculiar harness was then produced, consisting of a double belt. One half of this was buckled around Yuri’s waist; but when they came to buckle me into the other half, my radio apparatus, which was concealed beneath my toga, furnished an obstacle, and so there was nothing for me to do but take it off. This, of course, would render me entirely deaf during the fight, which fact might prove somewhat disadvantageous.
But before they took away my hearing they explained fully to me just how the duel would be conducted. And I cautioned Poblath to keep a firm hold of my apparatus and not let it get into the hands of any of Yuri’s henchmen even for an instant.
“Otherwise,” I said, “the ancient law might easily become violated.”
Then I shed my antennae, and stood once more, an earth-man, ready to battle for my existence against the inhabitants of Poros.