All this accomplished, which was, after all, only a beginning, I left the house and walked up the hill, intending to find the three gentlemen waiting for their duel. These meetings generally took place, I knew, on the way to the old well. I left Durdans on the right, and struck across the turf to the left. Presently I saw before me a group of three gentlemen, standing together and talking. That is to say, two were talking, and one, Lord Chudleigh, was standing apart. They saw me presently, and I heard Sir Miles, in his loud and hearty voice, crying out: "Gad so! It is pretty Kitty herself." "You look, gentlemen," I said, "as if you were expecting quite another person. But pray, Sir Miles, why on the Downs so early? There is no race to-day, nor any bull-baiting. The card-room is open, and I believe the inns are not shut." "We are here," he replied, unblushingly, "to take the air. It is bracing: it is good for the complexion: it expands the chest and opens the breathing pipes: it is as good as a draught of the waters: and as stimulating as a bottle of port." "Indeed! Then I am surprised you do not use the fresh air oftener. For surely it is cheaper than drinking wine." "In future," he said, "I intend to do so." "But why these swords, Sir Miles? You know the rule of the Wells." "They wanted sharpening," he replied. "The air of the Downs is so keen, that it sets an edge on sword-blades." "You looked--fie, gentlemen!--for Mr. Temple to help sharpen the blades, as a butcher sharpens his knife, by putting steel to steel. Sir Miles, you are a wicked and bloodthirsty man." He laughed, and so did the officer. Lord Chudleigh changed colour. "Gentlemen," I went on, "I have to tell you--I have come here to tell you--that an accident has happened to Mr. Temple, which will prevent his keeping the appointment made for him at this hour. I am sure, if he knew that I was coming here, he would ask me to express his great regret at keeping you waiting. Now, however, you may all go home again, and put off killing each other for another day." They looked at each other, astonished. "My lord," I said, "I am sure you will let me ask you what injury my poor friend Harry Temple has done you that you desire to compass his death." "Nay," he replied, "I desire not to compass any man's death. I am here against my will. I have no quarrel with him." "What do you say, Sir Miles?" I asked. "Are you determined that blood should be spilt?" "Not I," he replied. "But as the affair concerns the honour of two gentlemen, I think, with respect to so fair a lady, that it had better be left in the hands of gentlemen."