shot eyes, affecting himself to be the promoter
of all the amusement of the evening.

"Why do you come into company," he says
angrily to Mr. Hawkins, "when you won't do
as others do?"

Mr. Hawkins answers coldly, "Don't trouble
yourself, sir, about me. I'll do as I please."

Mr. Rich, more sanguine and careless, called
out:

"Who will set me three half-crowns?"

Mr. Gower jocularly drew some money from
his pocket, and holding it in his closed hand
upon the table, said:

"I'll set ye three pieces."

He then lifted his hand, and they proved to
be only three halfpence. The major, who was
in earnest, and had very serious views of play,
grew more vexed at the game being simply
derided, fired up, and swore that Gower was an
impertinent puppy to set three halfpence.

Then Mr. Gower effervesced also, and cried:

"Sir, I am not afraid of ye, and he that
calls me a puppy is a scoundrel."

Quick as the serpent light that rose in his eyes
the major snatched up a bottle by the neck and
swung it fiercely and swiftly at the head of
Mr. Gower. The flask bottle, heavy with
Burgundy, brushed Mr. Gower's wig and struck a
cloud of white powder from it, but it did no
hurt. Mr. Gower, in return, tossed more coolly
a wine-glass at the major. Both at the same
moment then pushed back their chairs and ran
to their swords. Gower, nimbler and younger,
jumped on the table and reached his from the
peg first. Then stepping down he drew and
stood on defence, but made no offer to lunge.
In the mean time, Major Oneby also took down
his sword and cane, which hung together, and
there being a table and chair in his way, came
fiercely round the table to do battle with Mr.
Gower, but Mr. Rich stepped between them,
and told the major, as he was drawing his sword,

"If you make a lunge, major, it must be
through my body, and as I am unarmed, that
will be wilful murder."

The duellists of those days knew all the legal
boundaries between murder and homicide.

Mr. Gower then threw his sword by on a
table, and they all sat down again.

"Come, major," said Mr. Gower, offering
his hand frankly, "let us be reconciled. Words
spoken in heat may be forgotten and forgiven."

But the major, driven from his booty, was
inexorable. He growled:

"By——, you lie. I'll have your blood,
by——." Then turning to Mr. Hawkins
furiously, he said, "This is all along of you."

"Why, then," replied Mr. Hawkins, "if
you have done with him and have anything to
say to me, I am your man, and will see you out."

"No!" said the soured major, "I have
another fellow to deal with first."

Mr. Blunt good-naturedly invited the whole
company to dinner on the next day, hoping
to prevent future mischief.

"No! I'll dine with none of ye," exclaimed
Oneby.

"Are you angry, sir?" said Mr. Blunt.
"Have you anything to say to me?"

"Or me?" said Mr. Hawkins.

"Or me?" said Mr. Rich.

No; he had nothing to say to any of them.
This was between two and three in the morning.

At last some one rose and proposed to
go. The major, who had continued a sort of
sullen talk, threw his big rough coat over his
broad shoulders, and fastened one or two of the
buttons. These coats were useful to bullies
in sword encounters, for they baffled thrusts
and entangled blades. Mr. Hawkins came
out first; Mr. Blunt and Rich followed; Mr.
Gower was last. Mr. Hawkins asked John
Barnes, the drawer, if his chair was ready, as it
was raining. Being told it was, he went out,
the drawer unbarring the front door into Drury-
lane for them. Just as Mr. Gower was following,
Major Oneby, all the time in a smoulder,
now broke out once more into full flame, and
said to Gower:

"Hark ye, young gentleman, a word wi' ye."

Gower turned back; he and the major both
re-entered the room, and Mr. Rich heard the
door slammed savagely, and the bolt shot with
the violence of rage. Then there was heard a
loud rasping and clashing of swords, and heavy
stamps on the floor. Death was locked in with
them. Rich and Blunt, hearing open war broke
out, called to the drawer to open the door.
The door would not yield at first either at bolt
or hinge, but by their united efforts the three at
last forced it open and got in.

Too late, too late. Poor Gower had been
disarmed and was already struck; Major Oneby,
intent on death, guarded the door. He wanted
to taste his revenge, and was delaying the
coup de grace as cats delay the death of the
mouse they torture. His sword was pointing
at his enemy. Gower then, in the intensity
of despair, closed with the gambler, rather as
if he were falling forward against him through
weakness, but still feebly intent on a mortal
grapple, for he knew well he was in the hands of
a professional assassin. The major clutched
his shoulder with his left hand, but quitted him
when the three men broke in, and Barnes, the
drawer, cried:

"For God's sake what are you doing?"

As Mr. Rich held up his hand to part the
two men, he felt the sting of a sword pricking
through his coat. It was Major Oneby's sword,
but there seemed to be no intention in him to
wound Mr. Rich. Almost at the same moment
Mr. Blunt cried out that he was stabbed in the
stomach, but in the excitement no one could
decide whether it was done in mistake by Mr.
Gower or in a rage by Major Oneby. The wound
was supposed to be mortal.

At this moment Mr. Hawkins returned—he
who had at first scented out the major's real
character, and persuaded his friends not to play.
He had been waiting out under a pent-house
as it rained, and there was no chair near, nor
any watchman to call one. Seeing none of the
company come out, he concluded that there was