Their arms were raised almost together. The man Selby glanced from one to the other, a handkerchief fluttered, fell, and in that instant came the report of a pistol. I saw Sir Jasper reel backward, steady himself, and fire in return; then, while the blue smoke yet hung in the still air, he staggered blindly, and fell. Mr. Chester, and two or three more, ran forward and knelt beside him, while his opponent shrugged his shoulders, and, taking off his hat, pointed out the bullet hole to his white-faced second. And in a little while they lifted Sir Jasper in their arms, but seeing how his head hung, a sudden sickness came upon me, for I knew, indeed, that he would go walking back nevermore. Yet his eyes were wide and staring—staring up at the blue heaven with the same fixed intensity as they had done at the inn. Then I, too, looked up at the cloudless sky, and round upon the fair earth; and, in that moment, I, for one, remembered his prophecy of an hour ago. And, indeed, the day was glorious. CHAPTER XI WHICH RELATES A BRIEF PASSAGE-AT-ARMS AT "THE CHEQUERS" INN In due season I came into Tonbridge town, and following the High Street, presently observed a fine inn upon the right-hand side of the way, which, as I remember, is called "The Chequers." And here were divers loiterers, lounging round the door, or seated upon the benches; but the eyes of all were turned the one way. And presently, as I paused before the inn, to look up at its snow-white plaster, and massive cross-beams, there issued from the stable yard one in a striped waistcoat, with top-boots and a red face, who took a straw from behind his ear, and began to chew it meditatively; to whom I now addressed myself. "Good afternoon!" said I. "Arternoon!" he answered. "A fine day!" said I. "Is it?" said he. "Why—to be sure it is," said I, somewhat taken aback by his manner; "to be sure it is." "Oh!" said he, and shifted the straw very dexterously from one corner of his mouth to the other, by some unseen agency, and stared up the road harder than ever. "What are you looking at?" I inquired. "'Ill," said he. "And why do you look at the hill?" "Mail," said he. "Oh!" said I. "Ah!" said he. "Is it the London coach?" "Ah!" said he. "Does it stop here?" "Ah!" said he. "Do you ever say anything much beside 'ah'?" I inquired. He stopped chewing the straw, and with his eyes on the distance, seemed to turn this question over in his mind; having done which, he began to chew again. "Ah!" said he. "Why, then you can, perhaps, tell me how many miles it is—" "Five," said he. "I was about to ask how far it was to—" "The Wells!" said he. "Why—yes, to be sure, but how did you know that?" "It's use!" said he. "What do you mean?" "They all ask!" said he. "Who do?" "Tramps!" said he. "Oh! so you take me for a tramp?" "Ah!" said he. "And you," said I, "put me in mind of a certain Semi-quavering Friar." "Eh?" said he, frowning a little at the hill.