Part 43 (1/2)

It was the first time I had laughed in many an hour. Pembroke looked over his magazine.

”That sounds good. What caused it?”

”A story,” I answered. ”Some day I shall tell you all about it. Have you noticed how badly I have gone about lately?”

”Have I!” he echoed. ”If I haven't had a time of it, I should like to know!”

”Well, it is all over,” said I, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling into his questioning eyes. ”Now if you will excuse me, cousin mine, I'll make a call on her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde.”

Just then the door opened and Pembroke's valet came in. He handed a card to me, and I read upon it, ”Count von Walden.” I cast it into Pembroke's lap.

”That's the man. He is the inseparable of the Prince of Wortumborg.”

Then to the valet, ”Show him up.”

”What's it all about?” asked Pembroke.

”Honestly, I should like to run away,” I said musingly. The snow on the housetops across the way sparkled in the early moons.h.i.+ne. ”It's about a woman. If I live--ah!” I went to the door and swung it open.

The Count gravely pa.s.sed over the threshold.

”Good evening,” he said, with a look of inquiry at Pembroke.

”This gentleman,” said I, as I introduced him, ”will second me in the affair to-morrow morning. I suppose you have come to make the final arrangements?”

”Pardon me,” began Pembroke, ”but I do not understand--”

”Oh, I forgot. You are,” I responded, ”to be my second in a duel to-morrow morning. Should anything happen to me, it were well to have a friend near by, better still a relative. Well, Count?”

”The Prince desires me to inform you that he has selected pistols at your request, and despite the fact that he has only the use of his left hand, he permits you to use either of yours. There will be one shot each, the firing to be drawn for on the grounds. The time is six, the place one mile out on the north road, in the rear of the Strasburg inn.

I trust this is entirely satisfactory to you?”

”It is,” I answered.

”Then allow me to bid you good night.” He bowed and backed toward the door. He remained a moment with his hand on the k.n.o.b, gazing into my eyes. I read in his a mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt and curiosity. ”Good night,” and he was gone.

Pembroke stared at me in bewilderment. ”What the devil--”

”It is a matter of long standing,” said I.

”But a duel!” he cried, impatiently. ”Hang me if I'll be your second or let you fight. These are not the days of Richelieu. It is pure murder. It is against the law.”

”But I cannot draw back honorably,” I said. ”I cannot.”

”I'll notify the police and have them stop it,” he said with determination.

”And have us all arrested and laughed at from one end of the continent to the other. My dear cousin, that man shot the dearest friend I had in the world. I am going to try to kill him at the risk of getting killed myself. He has also insulted the n.o.blest woman that ever lived.

If I backed down, I should be called a coward; the people who respect me now would close their doors in my face.”

”But you have everything to lose, and he has nothing to gain.”