“Admiral Bell, I never called upon you and received a courteous reception, and then insulted you.” “Then why do you talk of cutting off a better man than yourself? D—n it, what would you say to him cutting you off?” “Oh, as for me, my good sir, that’s quite another thing. Cutting me off is very doubtful.” Sir Francis Varney gave a strange smile as he spoke, and shook his head, as if some most extraordinary and extravagant proposition had been mooted, which it was scarcely worth the while of anybody possessed of common sense to set about expecting. Admiral Bell felt strongly inclined to get into a rage, but he repressed the idea as much as he could, although, but for the curious faint green light that came through the blinds, his heightened colour would have sufficiently proclaimed what state of mind he was in. “Mr. Varney,” he said, “all this is quite beside the question; but, at all events, if it have any weight at all, it ought to have a considerable influence in deciding you to accept of what terms I propose.” “What are they, sir?” “Why, that you permit me to espouse my nephew Charles’s quarrel, and meet you instead of him.” “You meet me?” “Yes; I’ve met a better man more than once before. It can make no difference to you.” “I don’t know that, Admiral Bell. One generally likes, in a duel, to face him with whom one has had the misunderstanding, be it on what grounds it may.” “There’s some reason, I know, in what you say; but, surely, if I am willing, you need not object.” “And is your nephew willing thus to shift the danger and the job of resenting his own quarrels on to your shoulders?” “No; he knows nothing about it. He has written you a challenge, of which I am the bearer, but I voluntarily, and of my own accord, wish to meet you instead.” “This is a strange mode of proceeding.” “If you will not accede to it, and fight him first, and any harm comes to him, you shall fight me afterwards.” “Indeed.” “Yes, indeed you shall, however surprised you may look.” “As this appears to be quite a family affair, then,” said Sir Francis Varney, “it certainly does appear immaterial which of you I fight with first.” “Quite so; now you take a sensible view of the question. Will you meet me?” “I have no particular objection. Have you settled all your affairs, and made your will?” “What’s that to you?” “Oh, I only asked, because there is generally so much food for litigation if a man dies intestate, and is worth any money.” “You make devilish sure,” said the admiral, “of being the victor. Have you made your will?” “Oh, my will,” smiled Sir Francis; “that, my good sir, is quite an indifferent affair.” “Well, make it or not, as you like. I am old, I know, but I can pull a trigger as well as any one.” “Do what?” “Pull a trigger.” “Why, you don’t suppose I resort to any such barbarous modes of fighting?” “Barbarous! Why, how do you fight then?” “As a gentleman, with my sword.”