after
consideration he spoke as if he thought it well to dissemble a great
dislike of me. The many candles burned very brightly, and we could all
see each other. I thought it better to back casually toward the wall.

"You never accomplish anything," coughed the sick Earl. "Yet you are
for ever prating of yourself. I wish my son were here. My papers are
gone. I shall never recover them."

"The papers are in the breast of my coat at this moment," said I
coolly.

There was a great tumult. The Earl lost his head and cried:

"Seize him!" Two or three young men took steps toward me. I was back
to the wall, and in a leisurely and contemptuous way I drew my sword.

"The first gentleman who advances is a dead man," said I pleasantly.

Some drew away quickly; some hesitated, and then withdrew subtilely.
In the mean time the screeches of the Earl mocked them all.

"Aye, the wild Irishman brings you up to a stand, he does! Now who
will have at him? In all Bath I have no friend with a stout heart?"

After looking them over I said:

"No, my Lord, you have none."

At this insult the aged peer arose from his chair. "Bring me my
sword," he cried to his valet. A hush fell upon us all. We were
rendered immovable by the solemn dignity of this proceeding.

It was some time before I could find my tongue.

"And if you design to cross blades with me, you will find me a sad
renegade," said I. "I am holding the papers for the hands of their
true owner."

"And their true owner?" he demanded.

"Lady Mary Strepp," said I.

He sank back into his seat. "This Irishman's impudence is beyond
measuring," he exclaimed. The hurrying valet arrived at that moment
with a sword. "Take it away! Take it away!" he cried. "Do I wish
valets to be handing swords to me at any time of the day or night?"

Here a belligerent red-faced man disengaged himself abruptly from the
group of gentlemen and addressed the Earl. "Westport," said he flatly,
"I can ill bear your taunt concerning your Bath friends, and this is
not to speak of the insolence of the person yonder."

"Oh, ho!" said I. "Well, and the person yonder remains serene in his
insolence."

The Earl, smiling slightly, regarded the new speaker.

"Sir Edmund Flixton was ever a dainty swordsman, picking and choosing
like a lady in a flower-bed. Perchance he is anxious to fight the
gentleman who has just given Reginald Forister something he will not
forget?"

At this Flixton actually turned p