“And most of ’em gentlemen newly arrived from England—mark that also, Hector! Gentlemen, these, who ha’ scarce made my acquaintance than they discover an urgent desire to cross steel with me. Some day I may have an accident and kill one of them, which would grieve me, since he would die in evil cause, Hector.” “Man Jack, what cause are ye meaning?” “The cause of my Lady Herminia Barrasdaile, Hector, beyond doubt!” Sir Hector made a turn up and down the room. “But save us a’,” he exclaimed, halting suddenly, “the wumman must be a pairfict deevil!” “Nay, she’s merely a vengeful female, Hector.” “But this puir Templemore laddie. I kenned his father weel—man Jack, ye’ll no’ fecht the boy?” “Pray, how may I avoid it, Hector? If he annoyed me t’other night—as he must ha’ done, it seems that I affronted him in turn most flagrantly—there is his wig to prove it! How, then, can I possibly refuse him satisfaction? You have fought ere now and must appreciate the delicacy of my position.” “Umph-humph!” exclaimed Sir Hector, and took another turn up and down the room. “Do not distress yourself,” sighed Sir John; “if we must fight I shall endeavour to disarm him merely——” “And may accidentally kill the lad, swordsman though ye be, John ... remember Charles Tremayne! So, man Jack, ye’ll juist no’ fight the laddie.” “Not fight?” echoed Sir John. “Having regaird tae his extreme youth and inexperience and y’r ain reputation as a duellist and man o’ bluid....” “But, Hector, you must see that if I refuse on account of his youth ’twill make him the laughing-stock of all Paris.” “Why then, Johnnie lad, ye maun juist rin awa’——” “Run away, Hector?” “Juist that, John; ye maun gi’e Parus a chance tae laugh at yersel’—howbeit you’ll rin awa’ fra’ the puir lad as a man of honour should.” “Impossible, Hector.” “Man, there’s naething impossible tae the son o’ your father, I’m thinkin’!” Sir John frowned and, crossing to the window, beheld a carriage drawn up in front of the house. “Robert,” said he, “we’ve visitors, I think; pray show them up here.” Robert departed forthwith and presently reappeared to announce: “My Lord Cheevely and Monsieur le Duc de Vaucelles.” And into the room tripped two very fine gentlemen enormously bewigged and beruffled, who, having been duly presented to Sir Hector, flourished laced hats and fluttered perfumed handkerchiefs, bowing profoundly. “Let me die, Sir John,” piped Lord Cheevely. “’Od rabbit me, but ’tis pure joy to see ya’, I vow ’tis! Pray forgive our dem’d sudden intrusion, but our mission is delicate, sir, dooced, infinite delicate, and admits o’ no delay, as my friend Vaucelles will tell ya’!” “Parfaitement!” quoth Monsieur le Duc, hat a-flourish. “Briefly and to the point, m’ dear Sir John,” continued his lordship, “we come on behalf of our very good friend, Viscount Templemore, who, with the utmost passible humility i’ the world, begs the honour of a meeting with ya’ at the earliest passible moment.”