In a moment, Beverly was in his place, his right hand grasping his pistol, dropped by his side, which was presented toward Eugene, who, ten paces off, stood in a corresponding position. Barton retired to the background, taking his place beside Robert. "Gentlemen, I am about to give the word!" said Barton, and then there was a pause like death,--"One--two--three! Fire!" They wheeled and fired, Eugene with a fixed and decided aim; Beverly with eyes swimming in terror, and hand trembling with fright. The smoke of the pistols curled gracefully through the wintery air. Beverly stumbled as he fired, and fell on one knee; Eugene stood bolt upright for a moment, the pistol in his extended hand, and then fell flat upon his face. Eugene's bullet sank into the cedar tree, directly behind where Beverly's head had been, only a moment before. Beverly was uninjured. No doubt the false step which he had made in wheeling had saved his life. Eugene lay flat upon his face, the pistol still clutched in his extended hand. The brother of Joanna rushed forward and raised him to his feet,--there was a red wound between his eyes,--he was dead. The husband had been killed by the seducer of his wife. Behold the justice of the Law of Duel! "The damned fool," was the commentary of the phlegmatic Robert, as with tears gushing from his eyes, he held the body of the dead husband, and at the same time regarded Beverly, who pale with fright, cringed against a tree,--"If he'd a-taken my advice, he'd a-killed you like a dog, last night. He'd a-pitched you from the third story window,--he would,--and mashed your brains out against the pavement." The sun came out from behind a cloud, and lighted the face of Eugene Livingston, with the red wound between his fixed eyeballs. CHAPTER IV. ISRAEL AND HIS VICTIM. Israel Yorke left the Temple, accompanied by Ninety-One and followed by the eleven. Israel, clad once more in his every-day _practical_ dress, with his hat drawn over his bald head, and his diminutive form enveloped in a loose sack of dark cloth, looked like a dwarf beside the almost gigantic frame of Ninety-One. Yet Ninety-One, with creditable politeness, gave his arm to the Financier, and urged him onward in the darkness, toward Broadway, something in the manner that you may have seen a very willing boy, assist the progress of a very unwilling dog,--the boy's hand being attached to one end of a string, and the dog's neck to the other. And Ninety-One cheered Israel with various remarks of a consolatory character, such as, "go in gold specks! let her went my darlin'! don't give it up so easy!--" and so-forth. "It's so dark, and I'm so devilish cold," whined Israel, in vain endeavoring to keep pace with the giant strides of his huge companion,--"Where the deuce are we going anyhow?"