He flung himself into a chair which stood in the corner by the window. I sat me in the one from which he had risen, drawing it closer to the fire. A little table stood within arm's reach, and I pulled it up between us and laid my pistol on the edge. "I have come," said I, "upon Sir Julian Harnwood's part." "Pardon me!" he interrupted. "You will oblige me by speaking English, and by speaking it low." The request seemed strange, but 'twas all one to me what language we spoke so long as he understood. "Certainly," I answered. "I am here to undertake his share in the quarrel which he had with you, and to complete the engagement which was interrupted on the Kingsdown." "But, Mr. Buckler," he said, with some show of perplexity, "the quarrel was a private one. Wherein lies your right to meddle with the matter?" "I was Sir Julian's friend," I replied. "He knew the love I bore him, and laid this errand as his last charge upon it." "Really, really," said he, "both you and your friend seem strangely ill-versed in the conduct of gentlemen. You say Sir Julian laid this errand upon you. But I have your bare word for that. It is not enough. And even granting it to be true, my quarrel was with Sir Julian, not with you. One does not fight duels by proxy." He had recovered his composure, and spoke with an easy superciliousness. "My lord," I answered, stung by his manner, "I must ask you to get the better of that scruple, as I have of one far more serious, for, after all, one does not as a rule fight duels with murderers." He started forward in his chair as though he had been struck. I seized the butt of my pistol, for I fancied he was about to throw himself upon me. "I know more than you think," said I, nodding at him, "and this will prove it to you." I drew the oval gold box from my fob and tossed it on to his knees. His hands darted at it, and he turned it over and over in his palms, staring at the cover with white cheeks. "How got you this?" he asked hoarsely, and then remembering himself, "I know nothing of it. I know nothing of it." "Sir Julian gave it into my hands," said I. "I visited him in his prison on the evening of the 22nd September." He stared at me for a while, repeating "the 22nd September" like one busy over a sum. "The 22nd September," said I, "the 22nd September. It was the day of his trial." At the words his face cleared wonderfully. He rose with an indescribable air of relief, flung the box carelessly on the table, and said with a contemptuous smile: "Ah, Mr. Buckler! Mr. Buckler! You would have saved much time had you mentioned the date earlier. How much?" and he shook some imaginary coins in the cup of his hand. "Count Lukstein!" I exclaimed. I had not the faintest notion of what he was driving at, and the surprise which his change of manner occasioned me obscured the insult. "Tut, tut, man!" he resumed, with a wave of the hand. "How much? Surely the farce drags."