"I'm not sure that I see reason," said Cartaret, "but I'm going to fight you." "I do not suppose that you can use a rapier, Mr. Cartaret?" It was clear that not to understand the rapier was to be not quite a gentleman; but Cartaret made the confession. "Not that it matters," he reflected. "But you can shoot?" Cartaret remembered the boyish days when he had taken prizes for his marksmanship with a revolver. It was the one folly of his youth that he had continued, and he found a certain satisfaction (so much did Eskurola's pride impress him) in admitting this, albeit he did not mean to use the accomplishment now. "I carry this with me," said he, producing his automatic revolver. Don Ricardo scarcely glanced at it. "That is not the weapon for a marksman," he said. "Nevertheless, let me see what you can do. None will be disturbed; these walls are sound-proof." He took a gold coin, an alfonso, from his pocket and flung it into the air. "Shoot!" he commanded. Cartaret had expected nothing of the sort. He fired and missed. The report roared through the room; the acrid taste of the powder filled the air. Eskurola caught the descending coin in his hand. Cartaret saw that his failure had annoyed Don Ricardo, and this in its turn annoyed the American. "I didn't know you were going to try me," he said, "and I'm not used to marking up the ceilings of my friends' houses. Try again." The Basque, without comment, flung up the alfonso a second time, and a second time Cartaret fired. Eskurola reached for the coin as before, but this time it flew off at an angle and struck the farther wall. When they picked it up, they found that it had been hit close to the edge of the disk. "Not the center," said Don Ricardo. "Indeed?" said Cartaret. What sort of shot would please the man? "Suppose you try." Eskurola explained that he was not accustomed to such a revolver, but he would not shirk the challenge; and there was no need for him to shirk it: when Cartaret recovered the alfonso after Don Ricardo had shot, there was a mark full in its middle. "So much for His Spanish Majesty," said the Basque, as he glanced at the mark made by his bullet in the face upon the coin. "We shall use dueling-pistols. I have them here." He went to the desk. Cartaret had no doubt that Eskurola had them there: he probably had a rack and thumbscrews handy below-stairs. "We shall have to dispense with the formality of a surgeon," Don Ricardo was saying. "It doesn't look as if one would be needed," Cartaret smiled; "and it doesn't look as if we were to have seconds, either." The Basque turned sharply. "We are the only gentlemen within miles, and we cannot have servants for witnesses. Moreover, an Eskurola needs no seconds, either of his choosing to watch his safety, or of his enemy's to suspect his honor."