After a little ordinary discourse they parted;
Mr. Douston returned to the company, and Mr
Chaworth turned to go down-stairs. But just
as Mr. Douston entered the door he met Lord
Byron coming out, and they passed—as there
was a large screen covering the door—without
knowing each other. In the mean time, Lord
Byron, moody, having probably watched Mr
Chaworth leave the room without his hat,
found that gentleman on the landing. Mr,
Chaworth, in a low thick voice, and with eyes
that did not meet Byron's, said, meaningly:

"Has your lordship any commands for me?"

Lord Byron replied, considering this a second
challenge: "I should be glad to speak a word
with you in private."

Mr. Chaworth said: "The stairs are not a
proper place; and, if you please, my lord, we
will go into a room."

They descended to the first landing, and there
both called several times for a waiter from below,
to show them an empty room. The waiter
came, and mechanically threw open the green-
baize door of a back room on the right-hand
side (No. 7), a dark cheerless room, with a few
red coals smouldering in the fireplace. Placing
on the table the rushlight he had in his own
candlestick, he shut the outer door, and left the
two gentlemen together, with the true sang froid
of his profession. Lord Byron entered the dim
room first, and, as they stood together by the
low fire, asked Mr. Chaworth, with smothered
rage:

"How am I to take those words you used
above—as an intended affront from Sir Charles
Sedley or yourself?"

Mr. Chaworth answered proudly: "Your lordship
may take them as you please, either as an
affront or not, and I imagine this room is as fit
a place as any other to decide the affair in."

Then turning round, Mr. Chaworth stepped to
the door, and slipped the brass bolt under the
lock. Just at that moment, Lord Byron, moving
out from the table to a small open part of
the room, free of furniture, and about twelve
feet long and six feet broad, cried, "Draw,
draw!" and, looking round, Mr. Chaworth saw
his lordship's sword already half drawn. Knowing
the impetuous and passionate nature of the
man, he whipped out his own sword, and, presenting
the keen point (he was a stronger man
and a more accomplished swordsman than his
adversary), made the first thrust, which pierced
Lord Byron's waistcoat and shirt, and glanced
over his ribs, then he made a second quicker
lunge which Lord Byron parried. Lord Byron
now finding himself with his back to the table, and
the light shifted to the right hand, Mr. Chaworth,
feeling his sword impeded by his first thrust,
believing he had mortally wounded Lord Byron,
tried to close with him in order to disarm
him; upon which Lord Byron shortened his arm,
and ran him through, on the left side,
in spite of all Mr. Chaworth's attempts to
turn the point or parry it with his left hand.
Mr. Chaworth saw the sword enter his body,
and felt a pain deep through his back. He
then laid hold of the gripe of Lord Byron's
sword, and, disarming his lordship, expressed his
hope he was not dangerously wounded, at the
same time pressing his left hand to his own side
and drawing it back streaming with blood.

Lord Byron said, "I am afraid I have killed
you."

Mr. Chaworth replied, "I am wounded," and
unbolted the door, while Lord Byron, expressing
his sorrow, rang the bell twice sharply, for
assistance. As he supported Mr. Chaworth to an
elbow-chair by the fire, Lord Byron said:

"You may thank yourself for what has
happened, as you were the aggressor. I suppose
you took me for a coward; but I hope now you
will allow that I have behaved with as much
courage as any man in the kingdom."

"Mr. Chaworth replied faintly: "My lord,
all I have to say is, you have behaved like a
gentleman."

In the interval, John Edwards, the waiter,
who, while waiting at the bar for a bottle of
claret for the Nottingham club, had been
called by the two unhappy men to show them
into an empty room, had brought up the wine,
drawn the cork, and was decanting it. On
hearing the bell, he ran down-stairs, found that
the bell had been answered, and saw his master
wringing his hands, and exclaiming: "Lord
Byron has wounded Mr. Chaworth." He then
ran up and alarmed the club, who instantly
hurried down and found Mr. Chaworth with his
legs on a chair, and leaning his head against Mr.
Douston.

John Gothrop, the waiter who answered the
bell, found, to his horror, Lord Byron and Mr.
Chaworth standing with their backs to the fire,
Lord Byron's left arm round Mr. Chaworth's
waist, and his sword in his right hand, the point
turned to the ground, Mr. Chaworth with
his right arm on Lord Byron's shoulder, and his
sword raised in his left hand. Lord Byron
called to him to take his sword, and call up his
master.

When Fynmore came up, Mr. Chaworth said:
"Here, James, take my sword; I have
disarmed him." Fynmore then said to Lord Byron,
taking hold of his sword, "Pray, my lord, give
me your sword." Lord Byron surrendered
it a little reluctantly; Fynmore took the two
swords down-stairs, laid them upon a table, and
sent at once for Mr. Caesar Hawkins, a celebrated
surgeon of the day. When he came, a little after
eight o'clock, he found Mr. Chaworth sitting with
his waistcoat partly unbuttoned, his shirt bloody,
and his right hand pressing his wound. The
sword had gone clean through the body, and
out at the back. Mr. Chaworth said, "I believe
I have received a mortal wound; for I feel a
peculiar kind of faintness or sinking, and have a
sensation of stretching and swelling in my belly
that makes me think I bleed internally."

The company then left Mr. Chaworth with
his own servant and Mr. Hawkins; and Lord
Byron retired to a room down-stairs. Mr.
Chaworth then thinking that he should not live
five minutes, and wishing earnestly to see Mr.