“But, Sir Francis, you forget the fact, in transacting, myself for Mr. Bannerworth, and this person for Admiral Bell, we do much, and have our own characters at stake; nay more, our lives and fortunes. These may be small; but they are everything to us. Allow me to say, on my own behalf, that I will not permit my principal to meet you unless you can name a second, as is usual with gentlemen on such occasions.” “I regret, while I declare to you my entire willingness to meet you, that I cannot comply through utter inability to do so, with your request. Let this go forth to the world as I have stated it, and let it be an answer to any aspersions that may be uttered as to my unwillingness to fight.” There was a pause of some moments. Mr. Chillingworth was resolved that, come of it what would, he would not permit Henry to fight, unless Sir Francis Varney himself should appoint a friend, and then they could meet upon equal terms. Jack Pringle whistled, and spit, and chewed and turned his quid—hitched up his trousers, and looked wistfully from one to the other, as he said,— “So then it’s likely to be no fight at all, Sir Francis what’s-o’-name?” “It seems like it, Mr. Pringle,” replied Varney, with a meaning smile; “unless you can be more complaisant towards myself, and kind towards the admiral.” “Why, not exactly that,” said Jack; “it’s a pity to stop a good play in the beginning, just because some little thing is wrong in the tackling.” “Perhaps your skill and genius may enable us to find some medium course that we may pursue with pleasure and profit. What say you, Mr. Pringle?” “All I know about genius, as you call it is the Flying Dutchman, or some such odd out o’ the way fish. But, as I said, I am not one to spoil sport, nor more is the admiral. Oh, no, we is all true men and good.” “I believe it,” said Varney, bowing politely. “You needn’t keep your figure-head on the move; I can see you just as well. Howsoever, as I was saying, I don’t like to spoil sport, and sooner than both parties should be disappointed, my principal shall become your second, Sir Francis.” “What, Admiral Bell!” exclaimed Varney, lifting his eyebrows with surprise. “What, Charles Holland’s uncle!” exclaimed Mr. Chillingworth, in accents of amazement. “And why not?” said Jack, with great gravity. “I will pledge my word—Jack Pringle’s word—that Admiral Bell shall be second to Sir Francis Varney, during his scrimmage with Mr. Henry Bannerworth. That will let the matter go on; there can be no back-out then, eh?” continued Jack Pringle, with a knowing nod at Chillingworth as he spoke. “That will, I hope, remove your scruples, Mr. Chillingworth,” said Varney, with a courteous smile. “But will Admiral Bell do this?” “His second says so, and has, I daresay, influence enough with him to induce that person to act in conformity with his promise.”