The commotion turned for a moment the mind of Winter from his first grievance, and he bethought himself of the sorry figure he must show with dress awry, face soiled and blood-stained, and, worse than all, insulted dignity. Therefore he made haste to leave a company so unappreciative, and destitute of sympathy. To Effingston, the thought that against his better judgment he had been drawn into a public brawl, caused his face to glow with passion, and his desire to leave the locality was not less than that of the other. The lookers on, finding their sport ended, did not follow, but took themselves to other ways, and the two gentlemen, who had hurried blindly, without attention or knowledge as to direction, soon found themselves in a quiet street somewhat remote from the neighborhood which had witnessed Sir Thomas Winter's discomfiture. "My Lord of Effingston!" cried he, as he gathered together his disturbed senses, noting the presence of his companion. "Thou hast grievously insulted me, therefore----" "When thou wilt!" the Viscount interrupted. "My sword is ever at thy service." "'Tis well!" said Winter, drawing his cloak about him; "one hour from now in the garden of Thomas Percy, whom, methinks, is known to thee. Yet if thou dost fear----" Effingston shrugged his shoulders. "In Sir Percy's garden," repeated he haughtily, and turning upon his heel left Sir Thomas in the roadway. The garden of the official dwelling occupied by the Gentleman-Pensioner consisted of perhaps a quarter of an acre of sward, fringed by a sorry row of leafless trees, and surrounded by a high wall, beyond the top of which shone the metal gables of half a score of straight-backed dwellings. 'Twas no uncommon thing for the parties to a dispute to settle the same by force of arms, but they carried on the affair with all secrecy, lest the report thereof reach the ears of those in authority, as it was contrary to the King's wish that a private quarrel should end in the killing of an English gentleman. Such being the fact, those gardens which adjoined the houses of certain nobles, and by reason of their privacy precluded the presence of prying eyes, were oft turned into duelling grounds, and the square of sward flanking the dwelling of Thomas Percy was well adapted for a contest in which the evenness of the ground, as well as others matters, was of much consequence to the combatants. To this garden the Viscount Effingston, accompanied by Sir Francis Tillinghurst and another, who bore beneath his cloak a case of instruments, presented himself at the hour appointed for his meeting with Sir Thomas Winter. Having gained admittance by a gate set in the wall, the three found awaiting them, Sir Thomas, my Lord of Rookwood, the Gentleman-Pensioner and a surgeon summoned by the latter to look to the welfare of the challenger.