Before the last word was half pronounced, Gavrolles had raised his weapon, covered his opponent with lightning rapidity, and fired. At the very moment he was about to raise his pistol in the air, Forster felt his arm suddenly grow powerless, while the weapon dropped from his hand. Sutherland and the little surgeon simultaneously uttered an exclamation. The former reached his friend just in time to catch him in his arms. ‘He is wounded!’ he cried. ‘I call you all to witness, it is a murder, not a duel.’ Swift as thought, the surgeon placed Forster on the ground, stripped off his coat, and cutting away a portion of his shirt, which was saturated with blood, disclosed an ugly wound in the shoulder. Forster, who had scarcely lost consciousness, opened his eyes with a twinge of pain, as the surgeon began to probe the wound for the bullet. It was the work of a moment; for the lead, after striking and partially fracturing the bone, had embedded itself in the fleshy part of the arm. ‘It is not so bad as I feared,’ said the surgeon; ‘but it was not fairly done.’ ‘It was most foully done,’ cried Sutherland, springing up and facing Gavrolles, who had approached and stood very pale, looking on. ‘Monsieur Gavrolles, it is now my turn. You shall fight _me!_’ ‘I shall do nothing of the kind,’ returned the Frenchman, turning on his heel. ‘But you _shall!_’ Sutherland exclaimed, seizing him by the arm and whirling him savagely round. ‘If you do not, I will shoot you like a dog.’ As he spoke he stooped and picked up Forster’s undischarged pistol, and covered Gavrolles, who cowered and shook like a leaf. ‘I repeat, my friend has fallen by foul play. You fired too soon--ah I I know the old device of scoundrels like yourself. I demand satisfaction.’ Here the Chevalier thought it time to interfere. ‘If that is so, _I_ am at your service.’ ‘All in good time, but my business is first with the assassin. I appeal to you as his second and a man of honour. Was it a fair duel?’ The Chevalier scowled and looked uneasily from one to another. ‘It was a mistake, doubtless,’ he said; ‘your principal was so slow.’ ‘It was no mistake; it was a _ruse_. He shall fight me--by God he shall!’ The Chevalier turned to Gavrolles. ‘What do you say?’ Gavrolles shrugged his shoulders. ‘The man is mad--I have no quarrel with him--nevertheless, if he wishes to be served like his companion----’ ‘No, it is impossible,’ said the Chevalier. ‘An affair of honour must be conducted according to the code. Even if my friend consented to this preposterous arrangement, you would have to be properly represented, and, there being no second present, I decline, on my friend’s account.’ But here the little surgeon, who had carefully drest Forster’s wound, and placed him carefully and comfortably in a sitting posture against a large fragment of stone, leapt up in excitement. ‘Pardon, monsieur! I am here, and I will act as the English monsieur’s second.’