“A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand. So I dare say I was christened Jack. Rhea became alarmed that she was about to leave. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas. I shall now be able to test my skill. And if I don’t, I go mad. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte.
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