of
the four men, as they stood, formed the four points of a diamond.

They stood prepared for the mortal issue.

A fatal catastrophe is always sudden and soon over.

The final question was asked by the duke's second:

"Gentlemen, are you ready?"

"We are," responded both principals.

"One--two--three--FIRE!" intoned the Russian baron.

Two flashes, a simultaneous report, and the Count de Volaski leaped into
the air and fell down, with a heavy thud, upon his face!

The seconds hastened to raise the fallen man. The duke stood
panic-stricken for an instant, and then followed them.

The unfortunate count lay in a tumbled, huddled, shapeless heap, with his
head bent under him. Not a drop of blood was to be seen on his person or
clothing. The Russian baron raised him up. There was a gasp, a momentary
flutter of the lips and eyelids, and all was still.

The colonel hurried off to the carriage to call the surgeon.

The duke stood gazing on his murdered foe, aghast at his own deed and
feeling the brand of Cain upon his brow, notwithstanding that he had
acted in accordance with the "code of honor."

The surgeon came in haste with his box of instruments in his hands, and
the roll of linen under his arm.

He put these articles on the ground, and knelt down to examine his
subject; for the body of the count was only a subject now, and not a
patient.

After a careful investigation, the surgeon arose and pronounced his
verdict.

"Shot through the heart: quite dead."

The Duke of Hereward groaned aloud. None of his wrongs could have been
such a calamity as this! None of his sufferings could have equalled in
intensity of agony this appalling sense of blood-guiltiness!

"Can _nothing_ be done?" he inquired, not with the slightest hope
that anything could, but rather in the idiocy of utter despair.

"Nothing. No medical skill can raise the dead," solemnly answered the
surgeon.

"One of you fellows can bring the railway rug out of our carriage. I knew
it would be needed," said the serenely practical colonel.

The count's servant started to obey.

The duke groaned and turned away from the body of his fallen foe, upon
which he could not endure longer to gaze.

The Russian baron came up to him, and with the knightly courtesy of his
caste and country, said:

"Monseigneur may rest tranquil. Everything has been conducted in
accordance with the most rigid rules of honor. The result has been
unfortunate for my disting