This spirited offer was received with enthusiasm, and the whole company was on the point of repairing to a hostelry to honour the occasion, when Eliphalet Cardomay, carrying a small polished wooden case, came quietly through the stage-door. At his approach the conversation died abruptly, and all eyes were turned upon him.
“Please,” he said, asking for a gangway.
Someone touched his shoulder, and asked:
“Are you fighting a duel to-night, old man?”
“Mr. May will answer that question,” he replied, and passed into the street.
“What did I tell you?” demanded May in his loudest tones. “Isn’t it wonderful, eh?”
“Did you notice what he was carrying?” said very young Mr. Manning.
“Can’t say I did, unless it was a soother.”
“He had that old case of pistols from the property-room.”
“Damn good!” roared May; but the laugh stuck in his throat somehow, and lacked the quality of genuine mirth.