"Yes," I said, "I understand."
"Good," said my father. "Here comes Brutus. And now we shall have our
rum."
"I understand," I said, and my voice seemed unsteady, "that you are a
very brave and upright gentleman."
"The devil!" cried my father.
And then he started and whirled toward the door.
"Ned! Ives!" he called sharply. "What the devil is going on outside?" and
the three of them had darted into the hall.
Clear and distinct through the quiet night had come a shriek and the
report of a pistol.
I started to follow them, but Mademoiselle had laid a hand on my arm,
and was pointing to the table. I lifted first one and then the other
of the two pistols that were lying there. Neither was primed. Neither
was loaded.
"The third one," she said quietly, "Mr. Lawton took. No, no," she
added, as I started toward the door, "Stay here, Monsieur. It is not
your affair."