"Keep your bullying looks and words, sir, for the poor Hindoos, whom you have so disgracefully trampled down. They are wasted upon me, for I know your nature now only too well. I am not going to quarrel, though I have easy excuse." "Then what will you do?" said Barton. "Fight?" "Yes, when my duty renders it necessary, sir. As matters stand, I feel bound to report what has taken place to Major Lacey, and to leave it in his hands to reprimand you, and call upon you to apologise." Barton sank back into a chair, uttering a forced laugh that made Brace turn pale. "`And out crept a mouse!'" cried the lieutenant. "Is that all, my brave, fire-eating captain? Report all to Major Lacey! By Jingo, sir, I'll spare you the trouble. I'll go and tell him what a miserable, contemptible, beggarly coward he has in his troop, and that he is allowing you to drag down your wretched pupil to your own level. There, stand out of my way." He thrust Captain Brace aside, as he strode toward the door--a thrust that was almost a blow, and then aloud, "Here you: open that door-- quickly. Do you hear?" I looked across sharply, and saw that a couple of the native servants had entered the room, and felt that they must have heard every word. They opened the door, Barton passed out, and the two white-robed men turned to look at us wonderingly before hurrying out, and the door fell to. "They must have heard," I said to myself; "and they'll go and tell the others. It will be all round the station directly that Captain Brace is a coward." For a few moments I felt as if I dared not raise my eyes, but it was as if something was dragging me to look up, and as I did, I saw that Brace was looking at me fixedly, and there was something very singular in his gaze; but for some time he did not speak, and there was so strange a tumult in my breast that no words would come. "Well," he said at last. "What are you thinking?" "Of all this," I said huskily. "And that as an officer and a gentleman I ought to have knocked Barton down?" "Something of the kind," I replied. "Of course; and then, according to the code of honour among gentlemen, I ought to fight him at daybreak to-morrow morning." I was silent. "Yes," he said passionately; "that is what you are thinking." "I can't help it," I cried angrily. "He almost struck you, and the khansamah saw it, and that other man too. It will be all over the place. You must fight him now." He looked at me very strangely, and I saw his brows contract as he said gravely-- "Duelling is a thing of the past, Vincent; a cowardly, savage practice in which the life of a man is at the mercy of his skilful adversary. Life is too valuable to throw away in a quarrel. I do not feel as if I had done all my work yet."