'Sir George, have you no one to represent you?' cried the second again,
grown querulous under the burden. His name, it seemed, was Morris. He
was a major in the Oxfordshire Militia.
Soane answered with impatience. 'I have no second,' he said, 'but my
surgeon will be a competent witness.' 'Ah! to be sure!' Major Morris answered, with a sigh of relief. 'That is so. Then, gentlemen, I shall give the signal by saying One, two, three!
Be good enough to fire together at the word Three! Do you understand?' 'Yes,' said Mr. Dunborough. And 'Yes,' Sir George said more slowly.
'Then, now, be ready! Prepare to fire! One! two! th--' 'Stay!' flashed Mr. Dunborough, while the word still hung in the air.
'You have not given us our pistols,' he continued, with an oath.
'What?' cried the second, staring.
'Man, you have not given us our pistols.' The major was covered with confusion. 'God bless my soul! I have not!' he cried; while Lord Almeric giggled hysterically. 'Dear me! dear me! it
is very trying to be alone!' He threw his hat and wig on the grass, and
again wiped his brow, and took up the pistols. 'Sir George? Thank you.
Mr. Dunborough, here is yours.' Then: 'Now, are you ready? Thank you.'
He retreated to his place again. 'Are you ready, gentlemen? Are you
quite ready?' he repeated anxiously, amid a breathless silence. 'One!
two! three!' Sir George's pistol exploded at the word; the hammer of the other
clicked futile in the pan. The spectators, staring, and expecting to see
one fall, saw Mr. Dunborough start and make a half turn. Before they had
time to draw any conclusion he flung his pistol a dozen paces away, and
cursed his second. 'D----n you, Morris!' he cried shrilly; 'you put no
powder in the pan, you hound! But come on, sir,' he continued,
addressing Sir George, 'I have this left.' And rapidly changing his
sword from his left hand, in which he had hitherto held it, to his
right, he rushed upon his opponent with the utmost fury, as if he would
bear him down by main force.
'Stay!' Sir George cried; and, instead of meeting him, avoided his first
rush by stepping aside two paces. 'Stay, sir,' he repeated; 'I owe you a
shot! Prime afresh. Reload, sir, and--'
But Dunborough, blind and deaf with passion, broke in on him unheeding,
and as if he carried no weapon; and crying furiously, 'Guard yourself!'
plunged his half-shortened sword at the lower part of Sir George's body.
The spectators held their breath and winced; the assault was so sudden,
so determined, that it seemed that nothing could save Sir George from a
thrust thus delivered. He did escape, however, by a bound, quick as a
cat's; but the point of Dunborough's weapon ripped up his breeches on
the hip, the hilt rapped against the bone, and the two men came together
bodily. For a moment they wrestled, and seemed to be going to fight
like beasts.