"
"Eh--what? Across the table! but, oh, Gad, Chichester! this is
madness!" said Mr. Dalton.
"Most duels are," said Barnabas, and as he spoke he drew from his
pocket the pistol he had taken from Mr. Chichester earlier in the
evening and, weapon in hand, sank into a chair, thus facing Mr.
Chichester across the table.
"But this is murder--positive murder!" cried Mr. Dalton.
"Sir," said Barnabas, "I am no duellist, as I told you; and it seems
to me that this equalizes our chances, for I can no more fail of
hitting my man at this distance than he of shooting me dead across
the width of the room. And, sir--if I am to--die to-night, I shall
most earnestly endeavor to take Mr. Chichester with me."
There was a tremor in his voice again as he spoke, but his eye was
calm, his brow serene, and his hand steady as he cocked the pistol,
and leaning his elbow upon the table, levelled it within six inches
of Mr. Chichester's shirt frill. But hereupon Mr. Dalton sprang to
his feet with a stifled oath:
"I tell you it's murder--murder!" he exclaimed, and took a quick
step towards them.
"Peterby!" said Barnabas.
"Sir?" said Peterby, who had been standing rigid beside the door.
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