occupied muddy space for fifty yards,
perhaps, between car and gate, and then the wheels and head of the
pit rose black against the sky. I was one of a rude semicircle of
people that hung as yet indeterminate in action about this dispute.

It was natural, I suppose, that my fingers should close upon the
revolver in my pocket.

I advanced with the vaguest intentions in the world, and not so
quickly but that several men hurried past me to join the little
knot holding up the car.

Lord Redcar, in his big furry overcoat, towered up over the group
about him; his gestures were free and threatening, and his voice
loud. He made a fine figure there, I must admit; he was a big,
fair, handsome young man with a fine tenor voice and an instinct
for gallant effect. My eyes were drawn to him at first wholly. He
seemed a symbol, a triumphant symbol, of all that the theory of
aristocracy claims, of all that filled my soul with resentment.
His chauffeur sat crouched together, peering at the crowd under
his lordship's arm. But Mitchell showed as a sturdy figure also,
and his voice was firm and loud.

"You've hurt that lad," said Mitchell, over and over again. "You'll
wait here till you see if he's hurt."

"I'll wait here or not as I please," said Redcar; and to the
chauffeur, "Here! get down and look at it!"

"You'd better not get down," said Mitchell; and the chauffeur stood
bent and hesitating on the step.

The man on the back seat stood up, leant forward, and spoke to Lord
Redcar, and for the first time my attention was drawn to him. It
was young Verrall! His handsome face shone clear and fine in the
green pallor of the comet.

I ceased to hear the quarrel that was raising the voice of Mitchell
and Lord Redcar. This new fact sent them spinning into the background.
Young Verrall!

It was my own purpose coming to meet me half way.

There was to be a fight here, it seemed certain to come to a scuffle,
and here we were--

What was I to do? I thought very swiftly. Unless my memory cheats
me, I acted with swift decision. My hand tightened on my revolver,
and then I remembered it was unloaded. I had thought my course out
in an instant. I turned round and pushed my way out of the angry
crowd that was now surging back towards the motor-car.

It would be quiet and out of sight, I thought, among the dump
heaps across the road, and there I might load unobserved. . .

A big young man striding forward with his fists clenched, halte