"Pick it up!" said he, motioning imperiously to the cane on the
floor between us.
"Heaven forbid, sir," said I; "'is thy servant a dog that he
should do this thing?'"
"I told you to pick it up," he repeated, thrusting his head
towards me; "are you going to do so, or must I make you?" and
his nostrils worked more than ever.
For answer I raised my foot and sent the cane spinning across the
room. Somebody laughed, and next moment my hat was knocked from
my head. Before he could strike again, however, I raised my
staff, but suddenly remembering its formidable weight, I altered
the direction of the blow, and thrust it strongly into the very
middle of his gayly flowered waistcoat. So strongly did I
thrust, indeed, that he would have fallen but for the timely
assistance of his companion.
"Come, come," said I, holding him off on the end of my staff, "be
calm now, and let us reason together like logical beings. I
knocked down your cane by accident, and you, my hat by intent;
very well then, be so good as to return me my property, from the
corner yonder, and we will call 'quits.'"
"No, by gad!" gasped my antagonist, bending almost double,
"wait--only wait until I get--my wind--I'll choke--the infernal
life out of you--only wait, by gad!"
"Willingly," said I, "but whatever else you do, you will
certainly reach me my hat, otherwise, just so soon as you find
yourself sufficiently recovered, I shall endeavor to throw you
after it." Saying which, I laid aside my staff, and buttoned up
my coat.
"Why," he began, "you infernally low, dusty, ditch-trotting
blackguard--" But his companion, who had been regarding me very
closely, twitched him by the sleeve, and whispered something in
his ear. Whatever it was it affected my antagonist strangely,
for he grew suddenly very red, and then very white, and abruptly
turned his back upon me.
"Are you sure, Mostyn?" said he in an undertone.
"Certain."
"Well, I'd fight him were he the devil himself! Pistols perhaps
would be--"
"Don't be a fool, Harry," cried the other, and seizing his arm,
drew him farther away, and, though they lowered their voices, I
caught such fragments as "What of George?" "changes since your
time," "ruin your chances at the start," "dead shot."
"Sir," said I, "my hat--in the corner yonder."