The Pit Town Coronet Volume I Part 11

Yes," he added solemnly, as he crossed himself, "please G.o.d."

Lord Spunyarn shook his head. There seemed no other way out of it; the Frenchman had been struck, the insult was in a public place; an apology or arrangement was impossible. Spunyarn was well aware that Barbiche was by no means an antagonist to be despised. He had been a journalist, a career which in France may enable a man to attain the highest positions; from journalism he had drifted into diplomacy, as French journalists sometimes do. This was after his accession to the fortune of a deceased uncle. Of course, he was skilled with the small-sword, as all French journalists are bound to be; his reputation with the pistol was equally deadly.

"I shall send my friend to him in the morning," said M. Barbiche calmly, as leaning on Lord Spunyarn's arm he left the ball-room. "I suppose you will act for him?"

"Don't know, I'm sure. I'm not up to these things, but I don't see why you should shoot each other over it."

The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders as he stepped into his perfectly-appointed but funereal-looking little brougham. As he drove home he meditated on his wrongs, and in his heart of hearts he swore that four-and-twenty hours should not elapse ere the insult should be avenged by his own skilful hand.

CHAPTER XI.

A MEETING IN THE GOOD OLD STYLE.

Lord Spunyarn woke with a very bad headache indeed, the morning after the ball at Papayani's. He hurried to commence his dressing, for his valet on awakening him had presented a thin and varnished card, bearing a portentous coronet and the name of the Comte de Kerguel. The man told him that the visitor had come on business of the most urgent nature.

What his business was, Spunyarn was well aware. Knowing that, next to getting married, a Frenchman looks upon the delivery of a hostile message, as the most important, pleasant, and serious event of life; Spunyarn wisely dressed himself with care and deliberation. When he entered his sitting-room M. de Kerguel rose and profoundly saluted him.

"Milor Spunyarn. I have the honour of addressing him?"

"Yes, it's quite right, that's me Please be seated."

The Frenchman sat himself down bolt upright.

"I suppose, Lord Spunyarn, that my visit is not unexpected. I had the honour to call upon your friend Monsieur Haggard, to demand satisfaction from him on the part of my friend, Monsieur Barbiche. You, I believe, were present at the whole affair. Monsieur Haggard has referred me to you as his friend."

Spunyarn bowed, stretched out his long legs towards the fire, and opening his cigarette case offered it to Monsieur de Kerguel.

"Won't you smoke?" he said.

A French gentleman in a new frock coat, on the most serious of all missions, the bearer of a hostile message to a man he has never met in his life before, is asked to smoke!

A crowd of strange thoughts pa.s.sed through his mind. Are these Englishmen cowards? He drew himself up more stiffly than before, as he declined the offer.

"Have you breakfasted?" said his hospitable lordship, ignoring the gesture.

"Lord Spunyarn," replied the Frenchman, "I come to you this morning purely as the emissary of my insulted friend; not to accept of your kindness, or to trespa.s.s on your hospitality."

"Oh, of course I understand that; but you see we English don't fight duels as a rule. Of course I should be sorry to balk you, but can't it be arranged?"

"Lord Spunyarn, you are aware that my friend was struck. In my country, no gentleman receives a blow without avenging it. Least of all a journalist or a diplomate. My friend Monsieur Barbiche was one, and is the other. In speaking of arrangement, milor, I would suggest that we are wasting time."

"But I don't quite see that," persisted Spunyarn, strong in his idea that the man who fights a duel is a fool. "You see there was a lady in the matter, and your friend insulted her. Why man, he actually touched her, I saw him do it."

"Milor, ladies who go to masked b.a.l.l.s are accustomed to such marks of attention. What my friend did was but a condescension on his part. But there was a blow struck, milor. Besides this, Monsieur Haggard has referred me to his friend Lord Spunyarn, I suppose with a definite purpose, and not with the intention of causing me to listen to, shall we say homilies, from his lordship."

"The whole affair's a beastly nuisance. I don't understand these things, but I will try to settle the matter."

"Milor, the matter admits of no settlement," said the Breton menacingly, rising from his chair.

"I tell you plainly, Monsieur de Kerguel, it is very much against the grain that I have anything to do with the matter. Unfortunately, as you say, I was present, and I tell you that our friend Barbiche behaved like a lunatic. Why he kicked _my_ hat off, and I don't want to call him out."

Monsieur de Kerguel smiled. "If your lordship is in any way aggrieved by my friend's conduct, you have your remedy."

"Oh, I could have had my remedy last night; if I had felt aggrieved, as you call it, I should have done exactly what Haggard did--I should have punched his head, you know."

"Milor, no man of whatever nationality, as you happily express it, 'punches the head' of a French gentleman with impunity, unless peradventure," said de Kerguel with an insolent smile, "he is a coward as well as a boxer."

"Do sit down," said Lord Spunyarn imperturbably. "He's no coward," and taking from his pocket a note, he handed it to the Frenchman.

The letter was short but emphatic.

"DEAR SHIRTINGS,

"That a.s.s Barbiche will send a friend to you asking for a meeting.

Agree to anything he wishes and oblige

"Yours,

"R. HAGGARD."

The Frenchman read the letter, reseated himself, and with a bow handed back the note.

"I was precipitate, Milor. All this is very irregular; but we advance, though slowly."

"Yes, I suppose we do, worse luck. I'll tell you what I'll do. Old Pepper is stopping in this hotel; there seems to be nothing else for it, I'll send for him," said his lordship with a sigh, and he rang the bell.

The waiter who answered it was directed to present his lordship's compliments to General Pepper, and to request his immediate presence.

The Indian warrior had just breakfasted, and entered the room in a few minutes. He was introduced to the Frenchman; a few words from Lord Spunyarn sufficiently explained the matter.

"I understand then, Monsieur de Kerguel," said the general, "that we are the challenged party. As such we are ent.i.tled to a choice of weapons?"

Monsieur de Kerguel bowed. "a.s.suredly, Monsieur le General," he replied.

"You will excuse us then for an instant?" said he, as he motioned Spunyarn to the window. "This is a beastly affair, your lordship. It won't admit of arrangement. Do you know if the Frenchman is best at swords or pistols?"

"Can't say, I'm sure," replied his lordship; "probably he's a dab at both. I know he was a newspaper man. They all are fighting men."

"It's most unfortunate for our man; they'll have to fight. Is Haggard any good at either?"

"I don't think he can shoot, at least not in a regulation affair. I know he can use a revolver, and he is very good at single-stick."

"It's a heavy responsibility," replied the general seriously. "If it had been arranged for this morning at dawn we might have had a chance with the pistols, for perhaps the Frenchman's hand would have been unsteady.

I suppose it was a good knock-down blow?"

"A regular snorter!" said his lordship with enthusiasm.