In the early morning he slept
soundly, and awoke rather later than was his wont; and, even as he
awoke, the square case which Lord Crosland had carried sprang into his
mind, and he knew it to be a case of pistols. In a flash everything
was clear to him; his father was going to fight Count Sigismond, and
had sent him to Nice to be out of the way.
He sprang out of bed, and dashed for his watch; it was two minutes past
seven. They would fight at eight; he had nearly an hour. In three
minutes he was dressed, and racing down the stairs. He met Dorothy
coming up.
"What's the matter?" she cried at the sight of his white face.
"My father--he's fighting Le Comte de Puy-de-Dome, and he's got us out
of the way!"
He did not see her turn pale, and clutch the banisters; he was racing
out of the hotel. He ran to the coach-house, wheeled his bicycle into
the courtyard, mounted, and rode down the street. He went at a
moderate pace through the town, but once on the Corniche road, he drove
the machine as hard as he could pedal.
He was well on his way before his mind cleared enough for him to think
what he was doing; and then his heart sank; he could do nothing. He
could not interrupt a duel; that was the last enormity.
Pages:
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184