intention of killing
him. But he knew that a pistol in the hands of an angry man is
dangerous, and that it behoved him to do his best to rid himself of
the nuisance which now encumbered him. "Do you mean that you are
going to murder me?" he had said.

"I mean that you shall not leave this room alive unless you promise
to meet me, and fight it out." Upon hearing this, Grey turned himself
towards the bell. "If you move a step, I will fire at you," said
Vavasor. Grey paused a moment, and looked him full in the face. "I
will," said Vavasor again.

"That would be murder," said Grey.

"Don't think that you will frighten me by ugly words," said Vavasor.
"I am beyond that."

Grey had stopped for a moment to fix his eyes on the other man's
face; but it was only for a moment, and then he went on to the bell.
He had seen that the pistol was pointed at himself, and had once
thought of rushing across the room at his adversary, calculating that
a shot fired at him as he did so might miss him, and that he would
then have a fair chance of disarming the madman. But his chief object
was to avoid any personal conflict, to escape the indignity of a
scramble for the pistol,--and especially to escape the necessity of
a consequent appearance at some police-office, where he would have
to justify himself, and answer the questions of a lawyer hired to
cross-question him. He made, therefore, towards the bell, trusting
that Vavasor would not fire at him, but having some little thought
also as to the danger of the moment. It might be that everything was
over for him now,--that the fatal hour had come, and that eternity
was close upon him. Something of the spirit of a prayer flashed
across his mind as he moved. Then he heard the click of the pistol's
hammer as it fell, and was aware that his eyes were dazzled, though
he was unconscious of seeing any flame. He felt something in the air,
and knew that the pistol had been fired;--but he did not know whether
the shot had struck him or had missed him. His hand was out for the
bell-handle, and he had pulled it, before he was sure that he was
unhurt.

"D----ation!" exclaimed the murderer. But he did not pull the trigger
again. Though the weapon had of late been so often in his hands, he
forgot, in the agitation of the moment, that his missing once was but
of small matter if he chose to go on with his purpose. Were there not
five other barrels for him, each making itself ready by the discharge
of th