"We must," he answered, as I left him in the hallway and entered the coffee-room where Sir Peter waited, seated alone, his feet to the empty fireplace.
"Where is Lady Coleville?" he asked, as I stepped up. "She must not remain here, Carus."
"You are not to fight," I said, smiling.
"Not to fight!" he repeated, slowly rising, eyes ablaze.
"Pray trust me with your honor," I replied impatiently, opening the door to a servant's knock. And to the wide-eyed fellow I said: "Go and say to Lady Coleville that Sir Peter is not to fight. Say to her——"
I stopped short. Lady Coleville appeared in an open doorway across the hall, her gaze passing my shoulder straight to Sir Peter, who stood facing her behind me.
"What pleasantry is this?" she asked, advancing, a pale smile stamped on her lovely face.
I made way. She stepped before me, walking straight to Sir Peter. I followed, closing the door behind me.
"Have I ever, ever in all these years, counseled you to dishonor?" she asked. "Then listen now. There is no honor in this thing you seek to do, but in it there lies a dreadful wrong to me."
"He offered insult to our kin—our guest. I can not choose but ask the only reparation he can give," said Sir Peter steadily.