“Not just yet,” was the reply; “there is barely light enough.” “Now, gentlemen,” said Mr. Alston presently, “I have prepared in duplicate a paper setting forth as fairly as I can the circumstances under which this unhappy affair has come about. I propose to read it to you, and to ask you all to sign it, as a protection to—to us all. I have brought a pen and a pocket ink-pot with me for that purpose.” Nobody objected, so he read the paper. It was short, concise, and just, and they all signed it as it stood. Ernest’s hand shook a good deal as he did so. “Come, that won’t do,” said Mr. Alston, encouragingly, as he pocketed one copy of the document after handing the other to Captain Justice. “Shake yourself together, man!” But for all his brave words he looked the more nervous of the two. “I wish to say,” began Ernest, addressing himself to all the other three, “that this quarrel is none of my seeking. I could not in honour give up the note the lady wrote to me. But I feel that this is a dreadful business; and if you,” addressing his cousin, “are ready to apologise for what you said about my mother, I am ready to do the same for attacking you.” Mr. Hugh Kershaw smiled bitterly, and, turning, said something to his second. Ernest caught the words “white feather.” “Mr. Hugh Kershaw refuses to offer any apology; he expects one,” was Captain Justice’s ready answer. “Then if any blood is shed, on his head be it!” said Mr. Alston solemnly. “Come, let us get it over.” Each took his man and placed him by one of the sticks, and then handed him a revolver. “Stand sideways, and remember what I told you,” whispered Mr. Alston. “Are you ready, gentlemen?” asked Captain Justice presently. There was no answer; but Ernest felt his heart stand still, and a mist gathered before his eyes. At that moment he heard a lark rise into the air near him and begin to sing. Unless he could get his sight back he felt that he was lost. “_One!_” The mist cleared away from his eyes; he saw his adversary’s pistol-barrel pointing steadily at him. “_Two!_” A ray broke from the rising sun, and caught a crystal pin Hugh Kershaw incautiously wore. Instinctively Ernest remembered Mr. Alston’s advice, and lowered the sight of his long barrel till it was dead on the crystal pin. Curiously enough, it reminded him at the moment of the eyes in the witch’s head at Dum’s Ness. His vital forces rose to the emergency, and his arm grew as steady as a rock. Then came a pause that seemed hours long. “_Three!_” There was a double report, and Ernest became aware of a commotion in his hair. Hugh Kershaw flung up his arms wildly, sprang a few inches off the ground, and fell backwards. Great God, it was over! [Illustration: “Hugh Kershaw flung up his arms, wildly.”]