It would not be true to say that Lord St. Helens’s hair rose on end, but it very nearly accomplished that feat. “I accepted the challenge to-night,” continued Wilfrid, “from a masked stranger, whose anger apparently had been kindled at seeing me receive a kiss from a certain lady. The fellow refused his name, but from his voice I took him to be Prince Ouvaroff. It seems now that I was wrong, and that my opponent is a much more august character.” Overwhelmed by the startling news the Ambassador could do nothing for a few moments but gaze in a sort of speechless terror at his nephew. Finding his voice at last he said: “This is a devilishly awkward affair. Let me know how it all happened?” Wilfrid related the whole story from his first meeting with Baranoff in Berlin down to that night’s scene at the masquerade, adding:— “How was I to know it was the Czar? He talked exactly like an ordinary mortal. You told me yesterday that it was Ouvaroff’s intention to pick a quarrel with me, and as the stranger had a voice very like Ouvaroff’s I naturally concluded——” “Alexander and Ouvaroff are half-brothers, as you know. Their voices _are_ very similar. Now, what’s to be done in this matter?” continued the Ambassador with a thoughtful regard for his nephew’s safety. “My first care must be to communicate with Panine. It will relieve him to know that the duel will not come off.” “But why shouldn’t it come off?” “Your opponent is an emperor.” “And are not we Courtenays the descendants of emperors? ‘Equal to Cæsars,’ is not that our motto?” “Come! this is mere bravado. You cannot really be serious in saying you will fight the Czar.” “The Archangel Gabriel himself, if he came between me and the woman I love. It is easy to see how matters stand with the Princess. She hates the Czar’s addresses, but does not know how to repel them. And diplomatists like you would bid me stand aside and let him work his libertine will with the sweet lady who loves me, because, forsooth, he is a Czar, between whom and me an awful gulf is fixed! Czar me no Czar! On this condition only will I withdraw, that he hands the Princess over to me; if not, he fights.” Lord St. Helens became full of dismay, as he realised that Wilfrid was perfectly serious in his utterance. If Alexander were equally determined there was no power on earth to stay the duel; and since Wilfrid had no peer in swordsmanship, what but ill would befall the Czar in a mortal combat? In cooler moments Wilfrid might not wish to kill the Emperor, but in the hot excitement of the duel, when he saw before him the man who was persecuting the Princess with unwelcome attentions, there was no knowing what might happen, especially if Wilfrid’s anger should be aggravated by the smarting of a wound. “And pray, sir,” said the Ambassador after vainly expostulating with his nephew, “pray, sir, who is to be your second in this infamous business?” “I am going to ask _you_ to officiate in that capacity.”