“I believe you are misinformed, sir,” said Jekyl dryly, and then resumed, as deftly as he could, his proper character of a pococurante.
“I am told,” continued Touchwood, “one Jekyl acted as a second to them both on the occasion—a proper fellow, sir—one of those fine gentlemen whom we pay for polishing the pavement in Bond Street, and looking at a thick shoe and a pair of worsted stockings, as if the wearer were none of their paymasters. However, I believe the Commander-in-Chief is like to discard him when he hears what has happened.”
“Sir!” said Jekyl, fiercely—then, recollecting the folly of being angry with an original of his companion's description, he proceeded more coolly, “You are misinformed—Captain Jekyl knew nothing of any such matter as you refer to—you talk of a person you know nothing of—Captain Jekyl is——(Here he stopped a little, scandalized, perhaps, at the very idea of vindicating himself to such a personage from such a charge.)
“Ay, ay,” said the traveller, filling up the chasm in his own way, “he is not worth our talking of, certainly—but I believe he knew as much of the matter as either you or I do, for all that.”
“Sir, this is either a very great mistake, or wilful impertinence,” answered the officer. “However absurd or intrusive you may be, I cannot allow you, either in ignorance or incivility, to use the name of Captain Jekyl with disrespect.—I am Captain Jekyl, sir.”
“Very like, very like,” said Touchwood, with the most provoking indifference; “I guessed as much before.”
“Then, sir, you may guess what is likely to follow, when a gentleman hears himself unwarrantably and unjustly slandered,” replied Captain Jekyl, surprised and provoked that his annunciation of name and rank seemed to be treated so lightly. “I advise you, sir, not to proceed too far upon the immunities of your age and insignificance.”
“I never presume farther than I have good reason to think necessary, Captain Jekyl,” answered Touchwood, with great composure. “I am too old, as you say, for any such idiotical business as a duel, which no nation I know of practises but our silly fools of Europe—and then, as for your switch, which you are grasping with so much dignity, that is totally out of the question. Look you, young gentleman; four-fifths of my life have been spent among men who do not set a man's life at the value of a button on his collar—every person learns, in such cases, to protect himself as he can; and whoever strikes me must stand to the consequences. I have always a brace of bull-dogs about me, which put age and youth on a level. So suppose me horsewhipped, and pray, at the same time, suppose yourself shot through the body. The same exertion of imagination will serve for both purposes.”
So saying, he exhibited a very handsome, highly finished, and richly-mounted pair of pistols.
“Catch me without my tools,” said he, significantly buttoning his coat over the arms, which were concealed in a side-pocket, ingeniously contrived for that purpose. “I see you do not know what to make of me,” he continued, in a familiar and confidential tone; “but, to tell you the truth, everybody that has meddled in this St. Ronan's business is a little off the hooks—something of a tête exaltée, in plain words, a little crazy, or so; and I do not affect to be much wiser than other people.”