"To stop this duel?"
"To stop it. Oh, my God!"
There was a silence, broken by a quick tread on the stairs. The next moment Sir Peter appeared, staring at us there, candle flaring in his hand, his fingers striped with running wax.
"What does this mean?" he asked, confused. "Where is Lady Coleville?"
"She has gone to the Coq d'Or," I said. "Your pistols are hidden, sir."
He paled, gazing at Elsin Grey.
"She guessed that I meant to—to exchange a shot with Captain Butler?" he stammered.
"It appears," said I, "that Mr. Butler, with that delicacy for which he is notorious, stopped here on his way to the tavern. You may imagine Lady Coleville could not let this matter proceed."
He gazed miserably at Elsin, passing his hand over his haggard face. Then, slowly turning to me: "My honor is engaged, Carus. What is best now? I am in your hands."
I laid my arm in his, quietly turning him and urging him to the stairs. "Leave it to me," I whispered, taking the candle he held. "Go to the coach and wait there. I will be with you in a moment."