gasped, staggering back.

"No, a derringer," said the veteran blandly. "I got into the thrick of
carrying one when I was in Colorado, and I have stuck to it ever since.
You niver know when it may be useful." As he spoke he continued to hold
the black muzzle of his pistol in a dead line with the centre of the
young man's forehead, and to follow the latter's movements with a hand
which was as steady as a rock. Ezra was no coward, but he ceased his
advance and stood irresolute.

"Now, thin," cried the major, in sharp military accents, "undo that
door."

The young merchant took one look at the threatening apoplectic face of
his antagonist, and another at the ugly black spot which covered him.
He stooped, and pushed back the bolt.

"Now, open it! Ged, if you don't look alive I'll have to blow a hole in
you afther all. You wouldn't be the first man I've killed, nor the last
maybe."

Ezra opened the door precipitately.

"Now walk before me into the strate."

It struck the waiters at Nelson's well-known restaurant as a somewhat
curious thing that their two customers should walk out with such very
grave faces and in so unsociable a manner. "C'est la froideur
Anglaise!" remarked little Alphonse Lefanue to a fellow exile as they
paused in the laying of tables to observe the phenomenon. Neither of
them noticed that the stout gentleman behind with his hand placed
jauntily in the breast of his coat, was still clutching the brown handle
of a pistol.

There was a hansom standing at the door and Major Clutterbuck stepped
into it.

"Look ye here, Girdlestone," he said, as the latter stood looking
sulkily up and down the street. "You should learn a lesson from this.
Never attack a man unless you're sure that he's unarmed. You may git
shot, if you do."

Ezra continued to stare gloomily into vacancy and took no notice of his
late companion's remark.

"Another thing," said the major. "You must niver take it for granted
that every man you mate is as great a blackgaird as yourself."

The young merchant gave him a malignant glance from his dark eyes and
was turning to go, but the gentleman in the cab stretched out his hand
to detain him.

"One more lesson," he said. "Never funk a pistol unless you are sure
there's a carthridge inside. Mine hadn't. Drive on, cabby!"
With which parting shot the gallant major rattled away down Piccadilly
with a fixed determination never again to leave his rooms without a few
of Eley