Chichester's assured air, his firm hand, his glowing eye and
quivering nostrils, a sudden deadly nausea came over him, and he
leaned heavily upon the table.
"Sirs," said he, uncertainly, and speaking with an effort, "I have
never used a pistol in my life."
"One could tell as much from his boots," murmured Mr. Dalton,
snuffing the candles.
"You have another pistol, I think, Dalton; pray lend it to him. We
will take opposite corners of the room, and fire when you give the
word."
"All quite useless, Chit; this fellow won't fight."
"No," said Barnabas, thrusting his trembling hands into his pockets,
"not--in a corner."
Mr. Chichester shrugged his shoulders, sat down, and leaning back in
his chair stared up at pale-faced Barnabas, tapping the table-edge
softly with the barrel of his weapon.
"Not in a corner--I told you so, Chit. Oh, take your cane and whip
him out!"
"I mean," said Barnabas, very conscious of the betraying quaver in
his voice, "I mean that, as I'm--unused to--shooting, the corner
would be--too far."
"Too far? Oh, Gad!" exclaimed Mr. Dalton. "What's this?"
"As for pistols, I have one here," continued Barnabas, "and if we
must shoot, we'll do it here--across the table.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215