“As it is a business matter,” said Freckleton, “and will have to go on the minutes, wouldn’t it be well for someone to propose and second it?”
Whereupon Braider proposed and someone else seconded the proposal, which was put to the meeting with due solemnity and carried unanimously.
“Now,” said the Hermit, slowly divesting himself of his coat when the ceremony was concluded, “I’m at your service, Bull.”
There was breathless silence for a moment as all eyes turned on the ex-monitor.
The blushes had left his cheeks, and a pallor rather whiter than usual was there in their place. He stood, in a fascinated sort of way, watching Freckleton as he rolled the sleeves up above his elbows and divested himself of his collar. He had never imagined the “dark man” would face him, still less challenge him thus before the whole Club.
The coward’s heart failed him when the moment came. He didn’t like the look of things. For an instant the crimson rushed back to his face, then, turning his back, he walked away.
Instantly a storm of hissing and hooting rose from the club, such as had rarely been heard in the walls of Templeton. None are so indignant at cowards as those who are not quite sure of their own heroism, and Bull found it out.
“Do I understand,” said Freckleton, as soon as he could get in a word, “that the Bull declines?”
The Bull made no answer.
“He funks it. Turn him out!” cried Gosse.