Whitaker was a little pale; but he sat still. Again there was a stir among the surrounding tables, followed by a deep silence. "Then," said Tarrant's representative, "you refuse?" "I do," said Anthony. "Do you give any reasons?" "None." The big young man arose. "You are aware," said he, "that you will be posted?" [Illustration: "'YOU ARE AWARE,' SAID HE, 'THAT YOU WILL BE POSTED?'"] "In any action that is taken against me," said Anthony, "I shall know how to defend myself." "In all likelihood, the first time Tarrant meets you in a public place he'll brand you a coward." Anthony looked up at the speaker, and replied quietly: "If he does, I'll beat him like a dog." The other stood for a moment, as though waiting for something more; but, as Anthony was silent, he turned, and in a moment the door which had admitted him to the public room closed behind him. Whitaker spoke in a low voice. "Of course I do not know what is usual in New Orleans. But it must be the same as anywhere else. Tarrant is held a man of consequence here, and to refuse him satisfaction would be a grave thing socially. Is your mind completely made up?" "Dueling," spoke Anthony, "is a code that has no place in the modern world; it is murderous and preposterous." Whitaker shook his head. "There is a law against it, but the man who refuses a challenge is marked." Anthony looked more grim than ever. "I am never troubled," said he, "by the way people regard me. And fear of society's disapproval is only entertained by those who value its countenance. There is no force that I know of that can make me place my life in jeopardy at the hands of a practised man-killer; neither can it compel me to go out in cold blood and kill him." Whitaker wriggled in his seat. "I'm afraid your uncle--" he began. "I have not seen my uncle in fifteen years," said Anthony, coldly; "and his opinions in the matter can have no weight with me." Then he leaned across the table, seeing the grave look in the face of Whitaker, and said kindly: "I think my attitude troubles you. Please do not allow any duty which you think due me as a chance acquaintance to entangle you in a disagreeable situation." Whitaker swallowed hard, but he was firm. "You see," said he, and his voice was so pitched as to be unheard by the curious ones about him, "my group is the gayer one,--Tarrant and his kind,--and it holds to certain things as necessary in a position of honor! But, damn it all, Stevens! I'll overboard with the whole lot of it; for, after all, what you say is nearer the truth; only most of us have never had the courage to admit it." A door was heard to close sharply. Tarrant was in the public room, his eyes going about, his face flushed with passion. At sight of him a murmur arose; then it grew until it was a sort of subdued roar, shot through with startled cries; for the duelist had sighted his man and was advancing swiftly toward him between the rows of tables. Whitaker said to Anthony: