"I have proved my courage too often," he said, "to be under the necessity of killing you for this blow. Since my honour is safe I will not take advantage of your overwrought condition."
"Ye'll take advantage of it whether ye like it or not," blazed Sir Terence at him. "I mean you to take advantage of it. D' ye think I'll suffer any man to cast a slur upon Lady O'Moy? I'll be sending my friends to wait on you to-day, Count; and - by God! -Tremayne himself shall be one of them."
Thus did the hot-headed fellow deliver himself into the hands of his enemy. Nor was he warned when he saw the sudden gleam in Samoval's dark eyes.
"Ha!" said the Count. It was a little exclamation of wicked satisfaction. "You are offering me a challenge, then?"
"If I may make so bold. And as I've a mind to shoot you dead - "
"Shoot, did you say?" Samoval interrupted gently.
"I said 'shoot' -and it shall be at ten paces, or across a handkerchief, or any damned distance you please."
The Count shook his head. He sneered. "I think not - not shoot."
And he waved the notion aside with a hand white and slender as a woman's. "That is too English, or too Irish. The pistol, I mean - appropriately a fool's weapon." And he explained himself, explained at last his extraordinary forbearance under a blow. "If you think I have practised the small-sword every day of my life for ten years to suffer myself to be shot at like a rabbit in the end - ho, really!" He laughed aloud. "You have challenged me, I think, Sir Terence. Because I feared the predilection you have discovered, I was careful to wait until the challenge came from you.
The choice of weapons lies, I think, with me. I shall instruct my friends to ask for swords."
"Sorry a difference will it make to me," said Sir Terence. "Anything from a horsewhip to a howitzer." And then recollection descending like a cold hand upon him chilled his hot rage, struck the fine Irish arrogance all out of him, and left him suddenly limp. "My God!" he said, and it was almost a groan. He detained Samoval, who had already turned to depart. "A moment, Count," he cried. "I - I had forgotten. There is the general order - Lord Wellington's enactment."
"Awkward, of course," said Samoval, who had never for a moment been oblivious of that enactment, and who had been carefully building upon it. "But you should have considered it before committing yourself so irrevocably."
Sir Terence steadied himself. He recovered his truculence.
"Irrevocable or not, it will just have to be revocable. The meeting's impossible."
"I do not see the impossibility. I am not surprised you should shelter yourself behind an enactment; but you will remember this enactment does not apply to me, who am not a soldier."
"But it applies to me, who am not only a soldier, but the Adjutant-General here, the man chiefly responsible for seeing the order carried out. It would be a fine thing if I were the first to disregard it."
"I am afraid it is too late. You have disregarded it already, sir."
"How so?"
"The letter of the law is against sending or receiving a challenge, I think."
O'Moy was distracted. "Samoval," he said, drawing himself up, "I will admit that I have been a fool. I will apologise to you for the blow and for the word that accompanied it."
"The apology would imply that my statement was a true one and that you recognised it. If you mean that - "
"I mean nothing of the kind. Damme! I've a mind to horsewhip you, and leave it at that. D' ye think I want to face a firing party on your account?"
"I don't think there is the remotest likelihood of any such contingency," replied Samoval.
But O'Moy went headlong on. "And another thing. Where will I be finding a friend to meet your friends? Who will dare to act for me in view of that enactment?"
The Count considered. He was grave now. "Of course that is a difficulty," he admitted, as if he perceived it now for the first time. "Under the circumstances, Sir Terence, and entirely to accommodate you, I might consent to dispense with seconds."
"Dispense with seconds?" Sir Terence was horrified at the suggestion.
"You know that that is irregular - that a charge of murder would lie against the survivor."
"Oh, quite so. But it is for your own convenience that I suggest it, though I appreciate your considerate concern on the score of what may happen to me afterwards should it come to be known that I was your opponent."
"Afterwards? After what?"
"After I have killed you."
"And is it like that?" cried O'Moy, his countenance inflaming again, his mind casting all prudence to the winds.
It followed, of course, that without further thought for anything but the satisfaction of his rage Sir Terence became as wax in the hands of Samoval's desires.
"Where do you suggest that we meet?" he asked.
"There is my place at Bispo. We should be private in the gardens there. As for time, the sooner the better, though for secrecy's sake we had better meet at night. Shall we say at midnight?"
But Sir Terence would agree to none of this.
"To-night is out of the question for me. I have an engagement that will keep me until late. To-morrow night, if you will, I shall be at your service." And because he did not trust Samoval he added, as Samoval himself had almost reckoned: "But I should prefer not to come to Bispo. I might be seen going or returning."
"Since there are no such scruples on my side, I am ready to come to you here if you prefer it."
"It would suit me better."
"Then expect me promptly at midnight to-morrow, provided that you can arrange to admit me without my being seen. You will perceive my reasons."
"Those gates will be closed," said O'Moy, indicating the now gaping massive doors that closed the archway at night. "But if you knock I shall be waiting for you, and I will admit you by the wicket."
"Excellent," said Samoval suavely. "Then - until to-morrow night, General." He bowed with almost extravagant submission, and turning walked sharply away, energy and suppleness in every line of his slight figure, leaving Sir Terence to the unpleasant, almost desperate, thoughts that reflection must usher in as his anger faded.
