tols, handed it to Gilbert, whom he had chosen as his
second, and in a calm, clear, staccato tone--each word a bullet rammed
home--said:

"No--Teackle, there will be no delay until to-morrow. Mr. Willits has
forfeited every claim to being my guest and I will fight him here and
now. I could never look Kate in the face, nor would she ever speak to
me again, if I took any other course. You forget that he virtually told
Kate she lied," and he gazed steadily at Willits as if waiting for the
effect of his shot.

St. George's eyes kindled. There was the ring of a man in the boy's
words. He had seen the same look on the elder Rutter's face in a similar
situation twenty years before. As a last resort he walked toward where
Willits stood conferring with his second.

"I ask you once more, Mr. Willits"--he spoke in his most courteous
tones (Willits's pluck had greatly raised him in his estimation)--"to
apologize like a man and a gentleman. There is no question in my mind
that you have insulted your host in his own house and been discourteous
to the woman he expects to marry, and that the amende honorable should
come from you. I am twice your age and have had many experiences of this
kind, and I would neither ask you to do a dishonorable thing nor would I
permit you to do it if I could prevent it. Make a square, manly apology
to Harry."

Willits gazed at him with a certain ill-concealed contempt on his face.
He was at the time loosening the white silk scarf about his throat in
preparation for the expected encounter. He evidently did not believe a
word of that part of the statement which referred to Harry's engagement.
If Kate had been engaged to Harry she would have told him so.

"You are only wasting your time, Mr. Temple," he answered with an
impatient lift of his chin as he stripped his coat from his broad
shoulders. "You have just said there is only one way to settle this--I
am ready--so are my friends. You will please meet me outside--there is
plenty of firelight under the trees, and the sooner we get through this
the better. The apology should not come from me, and will not. Come,
gentlemen," and he stepped out into the now drizzling night, the glare
of the torches falling on his determined face and white shirt as he
strode down the path followed by his seconds.

Seven gentlemen hurriedly gathered together, one a doctor and another in
full possession of a mahogany case containing two duelling pistols with
their accompan