"You leave him to me and I put six inches of bowie-knife in him, for suah." Monday's eyes gleamed like those of a cougar, and it was clear that he meant what he said. "Don't ever talk to me like that again," exclaimed Jack. "I am no assassin." By half-past eight, Jack and Harvey were comfortably seated in a carriage of the mail train on their way to France. "If I fall," said Jack, "I want you to see Miss Van Hoosen and tell her that my last thoughts were of her." "I'll do it," replied Harvey. "But I do not think anything will happen to you." They arrived in due course and Jack retired to rest, while Harvey sought Captain Cannon to arrange the preliminaries. He found the captain drinking wine with Lord Maltravers and talking loudly about the exploits of his youth. "Ah! Harvey," he exclaimed, "here you are. Sit down and join us in the foaming goblet. That's a good phrase I flatter myself. A duel stirs my blood and carries me back a long way. I recollect when I was quartered in Dublin, a fiery young Hussar took exception to something I said and threw a glass of wine in my face--he did, by Jove, sir. That was a case of pistols for two and a coffin for one. I met him in Phoenix Park the next day and at the first fire, I shot him through the heart, and went to the expense of having his body embalmed to send home to his mother." "Very considerate of you, I am sure," remarked Harvey. "Oh! it's just like me. I'm all heart. By the way, what weapons does your principal select?" "Swords." "Humph! I'd rather it had been pistols, because the affair would have been over sooner; but no matter. I have an elegant pair of rapiers. We will meet you at six o'clock on the sands at low-water, one mile south of the town." "That is sufficient," answered Harvey. He refused to spend the night in a spree as the captain evidently intended to, and returned to his own hotel. At five o'clock he had Jack up, and they sought the appointed spot, finding Lord Maltravers and his second already there. In an instant the principals stripped to their shirts and grasped the weapons which were handed them. The swords were of highly tempered steel, sharply pointed and as pliable as a willow wand. The sun was just rising in the east, gilding the horizon with its burning rays. A few fishing-smacks lay in the offing. The tide was on the turn, and the wavelets plashed mournfully on the sand, as if singing a requiem. "_En garde_!" cried Maltravers. Jack placed himself in position. His right arm and knee advanced, and his left hand by his side. The swords clashed as they crossed each other, and recovering, the duelists watched carefully for an opening. Lord Maltravers lunged in _carte_, but his thrust was delicately foiled by his opponent, who parried it skillfully. A long strip of plaster hid the cut on his lordship's face, which was ghastly white and terribly in earnest.