Captain Corsican shook his head like a man who had no faith in the efficacy of chance in human affairs. At this moment Fabian went up the stairs leading to the deck. I only saw him for a moment, but I was struck by the deadly pallor of his face. The wound had been reopened, and it was sad to see him wandering aimlessly about, trying to avoid us. Even friendship may be troublesome at times, and Corsican and I thought it better to respect his grief rather than interfere with him. But suddenly Fabian turned, and coming towards us, said,— “The mad woman, was she! It was Ellen, was it not? Poor Ellen!” He was still doubtful, and went away without waiting for an answer, which we had not the courage to give. CHAPTER XXVIII. At noon, Drake had not sent Fabian his seconds to my knowledge, and these were preliminaries which could not be dispensed with, if Drake determined to demand immediate satisfaction. Might we not take hope from this delay? I knew that the Saxon race do not regard a debt of honour as we do, and that duels had almost disappeared from English customs, for, as I have already said, not only is there a severe law against duellists, but, moreover, the public opinion is strongly averse to them. At the same time, in this, which was an uncommon case, the engagement had evidently been voluntarily sought for; the offended had, so to speak, provoked the offender, and my reasonings always tended to the same conclusion, that a meeting between Fabian and Harry Drake was inevitable. The deck was at this moment crowded with passengers and crew returning from service. At half-past twelve the observation resulted in the following note:— Lat. 40° 33´ N. Long. 66° 24´ W. Course, 214 miles. Thus the “Great Eastern” was only 348 miles from Sandy Hook Point, a narrow tongue of land which forms the entrance to the New York harbour; it would not be long before we were in American seas. I did not see Fabian in his usual place at lunch, but Drake was there, and although talkative, he did not appear to be quite at his ease. Was he trying to drown his fears in wine? I cannot say, but he indulged in bountiful libations with his friends. Several times I saw him leering at me, but insolent as he was, he dared not look me in the face. Was he looking for Fabian among the crowd of guests? I noticed he left the table abruptly before the meal was finished, and I got up immediately, in order to observe him, but he went to his cabin and shut himself up there. I went up on deck. Not a wave disturbed the calm surface of the sea, and the sky was unsullied by a cloud; the two mirrors mutually reflected their azure hue. I met Doctor Pitferge, who gave me bad news of the wounded sailor. The invalid was getting worse, and, in spite of the doctor’s assurance, it was difficult to think that he could recover.