Three hours later, Colonel A—— went down into the parade-ground to inspect the regiment, and he was surprised to see both Lord Vellum and Ensign Warbottle amongst the officers who approached him to give their morning salute. The latter had his arm in a sling; and to the stern inquiry of Colonel A—— as to whether the duel had yet taken place, he replied, with a forced smile lighting up his face: ‘Yes, colonel; his lordship has given me a nasty scratch in the arm.’
‘A scratch in the arm!’ exclaimed the colonel contemptuously. ‘And do you call that fighting, gentlemen—do you call that fighting? And for so important a question as the helmets of His Majesty’s Life Guards! Bah! it is nothing! This matter must be fought over again, under pain of instant dismissal from the service if my order be disobeyed!’
‘But’—— began Lord Vellum, attempting to express his satisfaction at the reparation his wounded honour had received.
‘But me no buts, gentlemen!’ exclaimed the colonel angrily. ‘I have the Prince’s instructions on this point, and it is for you to vindicate your own honour in a proper manner, or retire disgraced from His Majesty’s service.’
This alternative was one not to be thought of; and it need scarcely be said that the young fire-eaters chose rather to fight again than be cashiered. The duel was fought again, and this time Lord Vellum was shot through the body—a wound which laid him on a sick-bed for two months.
During this long period many quarrels had taken place at the mess-table, some of which had been settled by the colonel acting as ‘arbitrator;’ and others stood over for his permission to fight—a permission which he refused to grant until the result of Lord Vellum’s illness should become known. In the meantime Colonel A—— had communicated with the Duke of Wellington, from whom he received explicit instructions to carry the matter out to the bitter end, as the only means of putting a stop to a matter which was fast becoming a world-wide scandal.
Lord Vellum was carefully attended to during his illness by his ‘friend and enemy’ Ensign Warbottle, to whose efforts he not only owed his life, but was enabled at the end of the two months to take a short walk every morning. His recovery then proceeded rapidly, and he soon became enabled to walk without any support whatever.
The two friends were walking together one morning, when they suddenly found themselves face to face with Colonel A——.
‘Ah, gentlemen, good-morning!’ exclaimed the latter. ‘I am delighted to see his lordship out again, especially as it will now enable you to finish your affaire d’honneur in a more satisfactory manner.’
The young officers, scarcely believing their own ears, were for a time struck dumb with astonishment, and they gazed at each other and at the colonel with looks of bewilderment and despair.