AS CHANCE DECREED
Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
the face within.
"Will! Will Law, I say, come out!" called he. "What mad trick is this?
What--"
He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale,
melancholy, and yet firm.
"Get you back into the city!" cried Will Law. "This is no place for you,
Jack."
"Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?" cried Law, pushing his way directly
into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the
sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. "No
place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This
foolishness must go no further!"
"It must go on now to the end," said Will Law, wearily. "Mr. Wilson's
carriage is long past due."
"But you--what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had
you--why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow."
"And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to
better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better
chance, Jack."
"Peace!" cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. "I'll not argue
that. Driver, turn back for home!"
The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. "I beg
pardon, sir," said he, "but I was under orders of the gentleman inside."
"You were sent for Mr. John Law."
"For Mr. Law--"
"But I am John Law, sirrah!"
"You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
to the first Mr. Law, sir."
"He is coming, then," cried John Law, angrily. "I'll see into this
pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!"
Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
form alike solid strength and great activity. "Jessamy Law," they called
him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang
from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within.
Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an
adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was
hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking
not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his
seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode
madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care
and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly
as might be.
It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting
Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough
that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law,
"Beau" Law of Edinboro', "Jessamy" Law, the best blade and the coolest
head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence.
For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in
salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the
first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on
blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's
breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing.
It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an
actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that
of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over
of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that
of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The
eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never
stopped the _riposte_, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard.
Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands
against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes.
Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that
to gentleness.
"Sir," said he, "you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some
friend, give me an arm."
And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once
more the code of the time had found its victim.
Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with
a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his
mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother
still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation.
"Jack, Jack!" cried Will Law, "Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You
have killed a man! What shall we do?"
Law raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed
scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket
of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he
gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of
the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had
arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his
affairs.
"'Twas a slight shield enough," he said slowly to himself, "yet it
served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two
of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest."