a fear of death.
It was no feeling such as these, but rather a cool calculation of
chances, that now stayed his hand. Even if he were victorious in the
duel, and both did not die, yet the noise of the firearms would greatly
decrease his chances of escape. Moreover, he was a noted swordsman, and
conceived that he was Mr. Rassendyll's superior in that exercise. The
steel offered him at once a better prospect for victory and more hope of
a safe fight. So he did not pull his trigger, but, maintaining his aim
the while, said:

"I'm not a street bully, and I don't excel in a rough-and-tumble. Will
you fight now like a gentleman? There's a pair of blades in the case
yonder."

Mr. Rassendyll, in his turn, was keenly alive to the peril that still
hung over the queen. To kill Rupert would not save her if he himself
also were shot and left dead, or so helpless that he could not destroy
the letter; and while Rupert's revolver was at his heart he could not
tear it up nor reach the fire that burnt on the other side of the
room. Nor did he fear the result of a trial with steel, for he had kept
himself in practice and improved his skill since the days when he came
first to Strelsau.

"As you will," said he. "Provided we settle the matter here and now, the
manner is the same to me."

"Put your revolver on the table, then, and I'll lay mine by the side of
it."

"I beg your pardon," smiled Rudolf, "but you must lay yours down first."

"I'm to trust you, it seems, but you won't trust me!"

"Precisely. You know you can trust me; you know that I can't trust you."

A sudden flush swept over Rupert of Hentzau's face. There were moments
when he saw, in the mirror of another's face or words, the estimation in
which honorable men held him; and I believe that he hated Mr. Rassendyll
most fiercely, not for thwarting his enterprise, but because he had more
power than any other man to show him that picture. His brows knit in a
frown, and his lips shut tight.

"Ay, but though you won't fire, you'll destroy the letter," he sneered.
"I know your fine distinctions."

"Again I beg your pardon. You know very well that, although all Strelsau
were at the door, I wouldn't touch the letter."

With an angry muttered oath Rupert flung his revolver on the table.
Rudolf came forward and laid his by it. Then he took up both, and,
crossing to the mantelpiece, laid them there; between there he placed
the queen's letter. A bright blaze burnt in the grat