Then, hat in hand, he asked Sir Peter's indulgence for a private conference with me, and led me away by the arm into a sweet-smelling lane, all thick with honeysuckle and candleberry shrub.
"Carus," he said, "this is painfully irregular. We are proceeding as passion dictates, not according to code. Mr. Butler has no choice but to accept, yet he is innocent of wrong intent, and has so informed me."
"Does he deny his marriage?" I asked.
"Yes, sir, most solemnly. The lady was his mistress, since discarded. He is quite guiltless of this affront to Sir Peter Coleville, and desires nothing better than to say so."
"That concerns us all," I said seriously. "I am acting for Sir Peter, and I assume the responsibility without consulting him. Where is Mr. Butler?"
"In the tap-room parlor."
"Say to him that Sir Peter will receive him in the coffee-room," I said quietly.
Jessop impulsively laid his honest hand upon my shoulder as we turned toward the tavern.
"Thank you, Carus," he said. "I am happy that I have to deal with you instead of some fire-eating, suspicious bullhead sniffing for secret mischief where none lies hid."
"I hear that Lady Coleville is come to stop the duel at any cost," I observed, halting at the door. "May we not hope to avoid a distressing scene, Jessop?"
"We must," he answered, as I left him in the hallway and entered the coffee-room where Sir Peter waited, seated alone, his feet to the empty fireplace.
"Where is Lady Coleville?" he asked, as I stepped up. "She must not remain here, Carus."
"You are not to fight," I said, smiling.
"Not to fight!" he repeated, slowly rising, eyes ablaze.
"Pray trust me with your honor," I replied impatiently, opening the door to a servant's knock. And to the wide-eyed fellow I said: "Go and say to Lady Coleville that Sir Peter is not to fight. Say to her----"
I stopped short. Lady Coleville appeared in an open doorway across the hall, her gaze passing my shoulder straight to Sir Peter, who stood facing her behind me.
"What pleasantry is this?" she asked, advancing, a pale smile stamped on her lovely face.
I made way. She stepped before me, walking straight to Sir Peter. I followed, closing the door behind me.
"Have I ever, ever in all these years, counseled you to dishonor?" she asked. "Then listen now. There is no honor in this thing you seek to do, but in it there lies a dreadful wrong to me."
"He offered insult to our kin--our guest. I can not choose but ask the only reparation he can give," said Sir Peter steadily.