"Oh, do, do," cried Viviette. "Let us go through with it and see just how the duel was fought. It will be thrilling. You'll have to fall dead like Lord Estcombe, and I'll burst into the room and tear my hair over your poor corpse. Do, Austin, for my sake." He yielded. Any foolishness for her sake. He took a pistol. "You'll have to be Major Hawkins, Katherine," he said lightly, as if inviting her to condescend to some child's game. But Katherine put her hands before her face and shrank back. "No, no, no. I couldn't. I don't like it." "Then I'll be Major Hawkins," said Viviette. "You will?" Dick laughed harshly. "Then be it so." "I know just what they did." She placed the men back to back, so that Austin faced the further end of the room and Dick the open French window. They were to take three paces, count one, two, three, and, at the end of the third pace, they were to turn and fire. Dick felt the touch of Austin's shoulder against his, and the flame at his heart grew fiercer and the hell in his throat more burning, and the universe whirled round in a red mist. Viviette moved to the weapon-laden table. "Now. One--two--three!" [Illustration: Dick glared at him] They paced and turned. Dick levelled his pistol instantly at Austin, with murderous hate in his eyes, and drew the trigger. The pistol clicked harmlessly. Austin, self-conscious, did not raise his pistol. But Dick, broadening his chest, glared at him and shouted, wildly, madly: "Fire, damn you! Fire! Why the devil don't you fire?" The cry was real, vibrant with fury and despair. Austin looked at him for an amazed moment; then, throwing his pistol on to one of the arm-chairs, he came up to him. "What fool's game are you playing, Dick? Are you drunk?" Katherine, with a low cry, flung herself between them, and, clinging to Dick's arm, took the pistol from his hand. "No more of this--no more. The duel has been too much like reality already." Dick staggered to a straight-backed chair by the wall, and, sitting down, wiped his forehead. He had grown deathly white. The flames had been suddenly quenched within him, and he felt cold and sick. Viviette, in alarm, ran to his side. What was the matter? Was he faint? Let her take him into the fresh air. Austin came up. But at his approach Dick rose and shrank away, glancing at him furtively out of bloodshot eyes. "Yes. The heat has oppressed me. I'm not well. I'll go out." He stumbled blindly towards the French window. Viviette followed him, but he turned on her rudely and thrust her back. "I'm not well, I tell you. I don't want your help. Let me alone." He passed through the French window on to the terrace. The sky had clouded over, and a drizzle had begun to fall. Viviette felt curiously frightened, but she put on an air of bravado as she came down the gallery. "Have you all been rehearsing this little comedy?"