XIV. A DINNER AND A DUEL
At nine o'clock the next evening Quentin and Savage found themselvesin the rooms occupied by the prince, the former experiencing adistinct sense of wariness and caution.
If Quentin suspected some form of treachery at the outset, he wassoon obliged to ridicule his fears. There were nearly a score of menthere, and a single glance revealed to him the gratifying fact thatno treachery could be practiced in such an assemblage. Among theirfellow guests there was an English lord, an Austrian duke, a Russianprince, a German baron, besides others from France, Belgium andGermany.
Prince Ugo greeted them warmly, and they were at their ease in aninstant under the magnetism of his manner. Duke Laselli and CountDiego were more profuse in their greetings to the young men, and itdevolved upon the latter to introduce them to the distinguishedstrangers. There was but one other American there, a millionairewhose name is a household word in the states and whose money was atthat time just beginning to assert itself as a menace to the greatcommercial interests of the old world. He welcomed his fellow NewYorkers with no small show of delight. The expression of relief onhis face plainly exposed a previous fear that he was unspeakablyalone in this assemblage of continental aristocrats.
At the table, Quentin sat between an Austrian duke and a Germannamed Von Kragg. He was but two seats removed from Prince Ugo, whileSavage was on the other side of the table, almost opposite Quentin.On Dickey's right sat the Duke Laselli, and next to that individualwas the American millionaire. Directly across the broad table fromQuentin was the tall rakish-looking Count Diego Sallaconi.
"Ob, nobde gap sansan wobble wibble raggle dully pang rubby dub,bob," said the baron, in his best French, addressing the statuesqueAmerican with the broad shoulders and the intense countenance.
"With all my heart," responded Mr. Quentin, with rare composure andequal confidence. He had no more conception of what the baronintended to say than he would have had if the planet Mars hadwigwagged a signal to him, but he was polite enough to do anythingfor the sake of conversation. The baron smiled gladly, evenapprovingly; it was plain that he understood Phil's English fully aswell as that gentleman understood his French. Quentin heard his nameuttered by Prince Ugo and turned from the baron.
"Mr. Quentin, Prince Kapolski tells me he saw our friends, theSaxondales, in London last week. They were preparing to go to theirplace in the country. You have been there, have you not?" Prince Ugoturned his gleaming eyes and engaging smile upon the man addressed.
"On several occasions," responded the other. "Saxondale is a famoushunter and he gave me some rare sport. When do they leave London?"he asked, indifferently.
"They were to have started this week," said the Russian prince,"and there is to be quite a large party, I hear. A young Americanwho was with them was called away suddenly last week, and, as thetrip was arranged for his special amusement--by the Lady Jane, I wastold--his departure upset the plans a trifle." Quentin and Savage,who had heard the remarks glanced at one another in surprise.
"I should enjoy being with them," said the former, warmly. "Myfriend, Mr. Savage, was invited, I think," he added, and Dickeystudiously consulted the salad. He had not been invited and theannouncement that the Saxondales were off for the north of Englandwas news to him.
"Oh, certainly," exclaimed Ugo; "he was their guest. And the LadyJane arranged it, you say, Kapolski? Draft horses could not havebeen strong enough to pull me away from London had she planned formy pleasure. You must discover the fault in him, my dear Quentin,and hold him to account for a very reprehensible act." Ugo knew thatDickey was listening, and the first point in a beautiful game wasscored.
"Mr. Savage does not care for shooting," said Phil, flushingslightly. The Russian prince had been looking at him intently; apeculiar flash came into his eye when Quentin made the defensiveremark.
"But there is game to be had without resorting to the gun," he said,smiling blandly.
"One doesn't have to go to a shooting box to bag it, though," saidSallaconi, mischievously.
"I think the hunter uses bow and arrow exclusively," added Ugo, andthere was a general laugh, which sent a streak of red up Dickey'scheeks. If the Russian's news was true he had been purposelyslighted by the Saxondales. And yet it was not altogetherhumiliation or wounded pride that brought the red to his cheek. Heand the Lady Jane had quarrelled just before he left her, and whilehe hated her and she hated him and all that, still he did not careto hear her name bandied about by the wine sippers at thisdelectable table.
"What are they talking about?" asked the American millionaire ofDickey, his curiosity aroused by the laughter of a moment before.
"About as nasty as they can," growled Dickey. "That's their style,you know."
"Whew! You don't have much of an opinion of nobility. Beware of theprince," said the other, in a low tone.
"You couldn't insult some of them with a deliberate and well-aimedkick," remarked the younger man, sourly. The Duke Laselli's earsturned a shade pinker under his oily, swarthy skin, for the wordspenetrated them in spite of the speaker's caution.
"A toast," said the Russian prince, arising from his seat besideRavorelli. The guests arose and glasses almost met in a long lineabove the center of the table. Ugo alone remained seated as ifdivining that they were to drink to him. For the first time Quentinclosely observed the Russian. He was tall and of a powerful frame,middle-aged and the possessor of a strong, handsome face on whichyears of dissipation had left few weakening marks. His eyes werenarrow and as blue as the sky, his hair light and bushy, his beardcoarse and suggestive of the fierceness of the wild boar. His voicewas clear and cutting, and his French almost perfect. "We drink tothe undying happiness of our host, the luckiest prince in all theworld. May he always know the bliss of a lover and never the caresof a husband; may his wedded state be an endless love story withouta prosaic passage; may life with the new Princess of Ravorelli be apoem, a song, a jub late, with never a dirge between its morn andits midnight."
"And a long life to him," added Quentin, clearly. As they drank theeyes of Prince Ugo were upon the last speaker, and there was apuzzled expression in them. Count Sallaconi's black eyebrows shot upat the outer ends and a curious grimness fastened itself about hismouth and nose.
"I thank you, gentlemen," responded Ugo, arising. "Will you dividethe toast with me in proposing the happiness of the one who is tobring all these good things into my life?" The half-emptied glasseswere drained. Dickey Savage's eyes met Quentin's in a long look ofperplexity. At last an almost imperceptible twinkle, suggestive ofeither mirth or skepticism, manifested itself in his friend's eyesand the puzzled observer was satisfied.
When, in the end, the diners pushed their chairs back from the tableand passed into another room, it was far past midnight, and the realrevelry of the night was at hand. Reckless, voluptuous women fromthe vaudeville houses and dance halls appeared, and for hours thewine-soaked scions of nobility reeked in those exhibitions whichshock the sensibilities of true men. Four men there were who triedto conceal their disgust while the others roared out the applause ofdegenerates.
"I am not a saint, but this is more than I can stand. It issickening," said Quentin.
"And these miserable specimens of European manhood delight in it,"said Savage, his face aflame with shame and disgust. "It is too vilefor a man who has a breath of manhood in him to encourage, and yetthese bounders go crazy with rapture. Gad, don't ask what kind ofwomen they are. Ask how it is the world has ever called thesefellows men."
"Did I understand you correctly, sir?" asked a cold voice at hisside, and Dickey turned to look into the flaming eyes of PrinceKapolski. Count Sallaconi was clutching the left arm of the bigRussian, and there was a look of dismay in his face. He flashed aglance of fierce disappointment at Quentin, and then one ofhelplessness across the room at Prince Ugo.
"If you understand English you probably did," said Dickey, pale butdefiant.
"Come, prince," began the agitated count, but Kapolski shook himoff.
"You must apologize for your comments, sir," said the prince, inexcellent English.
"I can't apologize, you know. I meant what I said," said Dickey,drawing himself up to the limit of his five feet ten. The Russian'sopen hand came violently in contact with the young fellow's cheek,driving the tears to the surface of his eyes They were tears ofanger, pain and mortification, not of submission or fear.
His clenched right hand shot outward and upward, and before theRussian knew what had happened a crashing blow caught him full inthe jaw, and he would have gone sprawling to the floor had not DiegoSallaconi caught him in his arms. Quentin grasped Dickey and pulledhim away, while others rushed in and held the roaring, sputteringvictim.
All was confusion and excitement in an instant. Quentin and themillionaire drew their lithe countryman away from the gatheringcrowd, one cheek white as a sheet, the other a bright pink, and Philhoarsely whispered to him:
"I don't know what we're in for, Dickey, so for heaven's sake let'sget out of here. We don't want any more of it. You gave him a goodpunch and that's enough."
"You broke up the show all right enough," exclaimed the millionaire,excitedly. "The fairies ran over each other trying to get out of theroom. You're as game as a fighting cock, too."
"Let me alone, Phil!" panted Dickey. "You don't suppose I'm going torun from that big duffer, do you? Let go!"
"Don't be a fool, Dickey," said his friend, earnestly. Just then apale-faced, sickly-looking waiter came up from behind and hoarselywhispered in Quentin's ear:
"Get out, quick! The big prince made a mistake. He was to havequarrelled with you, Monsieur." He was gone before he could bequestioned.
"See!" exclaimed Dickey. "It was a job, after all, and the dago isat the bottom of it!"
"Sh! Here he comes with the Russian and the whole pack behind them.It's too late; we can't run now," said Phil, despairingly. As Ugoand Kapolski crossed the room, the former, whose face was white withsuppressed passion, hissed under his breath into the ear of theraging Russian:
"You fool, it was the other one--the tall one! You have quarrelledwith the wrong man. The big one is Quentin, Kapolski. How could youhave made such a mistake?"
"Mistake or no mistake, he has struck me, and he shall pay for it.The other can come later," growled the Russian, savagely.
"Gentlemen, this is no place to fight. Let us have explanations--"began Ugo, addressing Quentin more than Savage, but the latterinterrupted:
"Call off your dogs and we will talk it over," he said.
"Dickey!" cautioned his friend.
"I do not understand you, Mr. Savage. My dogs? Oh, I see, Mr.Quentin; he is mad with anger," said the prince, deprecatingly.
"There can be no explanations," snarled Kapolski. "My card,Monsieur," and he threw the pasteboard in the young American's face.
"Damn your impudence," exploded Quentin, now ready to take the fightoff the hands of the one on whom it had been forced through error."You ought to be kicked downstairs for that."
"You will have that to recall, Monsieur, but not until after I havedisposed of your valiant friend," exclaimed Kapolski.
"We are not in the habit of waiting for a chance to dispose of suchaffairs," said Quentin, coolly. "We fight when we have a cause andon the spot."
"Do you expect civilized men to carry arms into drawing-rooms?"sneered Kapolski. Ugo's face was lighting up with pleasure andsatisfaction and Sallaconi was breathing easier.
"I'm speaking of hands, not arms," said Phil, glaring at the other.
"I'll fight him in a second," cried Dickey.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen! Be calm! Let this affair be arranged by yourseconds and in the regular manner," expostulated Ugo. "This is veryunusual, and I must beg of you to remember that you are in myrooms."
"That is the rub, Prince Ravorelli. It has happened in your rooms,and I want to say to you that if evil befalls my friend, I shallhold you to account for it," said Quentin, turning on him suddenly.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"You know what I mean. I can and am ready to fight my own battles."
"This outrageous brawl is none of my affair, Mr. Quentin, and I donot like your threat. You and I should do all in our power toprevent it from going farther. Your friend was too free with hiswords, I am told. If he did not like my entertainment, he shouldhave left the room."
"Well, I didn't like it, if you want to know," said Dickey. "And Idon't care a continental who heard what I said."
"Does he still want to fight with his hands?" demanded Kapolski, nowcool and ironical. There was an infuriating attempt on his part tospeak as if he were addressing a small, pouting child.
"Anything--anything! The only point is, you'll have to fightto-night--right now. I've two or three friends here who'll see thatI get fair play." said Dickey, discretion flying to the wind.
"You shall fight and here!" exclaimed the Russian. "But you shallfight like a gentleman for once in your life. I will not claw andscratch with you, like the women do, but with any weapon you name."
Dickey's valor did not fade, but his discretion came to the surfacewith a suddenness that took his breath away. He turned to speak toQuentin and the millionaire. Phil's face was deathly white, andthere was a pleading look in his eyes. The millionaire was tremblinglike a leaf.
"I guess I'll take pistols," said Dickey, slowly. "I can't hit theside of a barn, but he can't bluff me, damn him."
"Great Scott, Dickey! Don't do it, don't do it!" whispered Quentin."This is my fight, you know it is, and I won't let you--"
"You can't help it, old boy. He'll probably get me, but I may belucky enough to have a bullet land in him. My only chance is to aimanywhere but at him, shut my eyes, and trust to luck." Then turningto Kapolski he said, deliberately: "Pistols, and here, if the princedoes not object."
"Cannot this affair be postponed--" began Ugo, desperately.
"Not unless your friend forgets that I punched his head. It is nowor never with me," said Dickey.
"I insist that it is my right to fight this man!" exclaimed Quentin,standing forth. "I first expressed the opinion which Mr. Savagemerely echoed and to which Prince Kapolski took exception."
"But you did not strike me. In any event, you shall come next, Mr.Quentin; I shall take you on immediately after I have disposed ofyour cockadoodle friend," said Kapolski, throwing aside his coat."You have pistols here, Prince Ravorelli?"
"This is murder," cried the millionaire, "and I shall take it beforethe United States government."
"Dickey! Dickey!" cried Phil, helplessly, as Savage began to removehis coat.
"I have weapons, if you insist, gentlemen," said Ugo. At his wordsintense excitement prevailed, for now there could be no doubt as tothe result of the quarrel. Count Sallaconi hurried away for thepistols, smiling significantly as he passed his prince. His smilesaid that Kapolski would kill two men that night.
"For God's sake, Dickey, be careful, if you must fight. Takedeliberate aim and don't lose your nerve," cried Quentin, graspinghim by the arms. "You are as cold as ice."
"I haven't fired a pistol more than a dozen times in my life," saidDickey, smiling faintly.
"Then shoot low," said the millionaire.
"Your second, Monsieur?" said the Austrian duke, coming to Savage'sside.
"Mr. Quentin will act, Monsieur le Duc. We may need a surgeon."
"Dr. Gassbeck is here."
It was hurriedly agreed that the men should stand at opposite endsof the room, nearly twenty feet apart, back to back. At the wordgiven by Prince Ugo, they were to turn and fire.
Sallaconi came in with the pistol case and the seconds examined theweapons carefully. A moment later the room was cleared except forthe adversaries, the seconds, and Prince Ugo.
There was the stillness of death. On the face of the Russian therewas an easy smile, for was not he a noted shot? Had he ever missedan adversary in a duel? Dickey was pale, but he did not tremble ashe took the pistol in his hand.
"Good-bye, Phi
l," was all he said. Poor Quentin turned his face awayas he clasped his hand, and he could only murmur:
"If he hits you, I'll kill him."
A moment later the word "fire" came and the two men whirled intoposition. Dickey's arm went up like a flash, the other's morecruelly deliberate. Two loud reports followed in quick succession,the slim American's nervous finger pressed the trigger first. He hadnot taken aim. He had located his man's position before turningaway, and the whole force of his will was bent on driving the bulletdirectly toward the spot he had in mind. Kapolski's bullet struckthe wall above Dickey's head, his deadly aim spoiled by the quick,reckless shot from the other end of the room.
He lunged forward. Dickey's bullet had blown away part of the bigRussian's chin and jaw, burying itself in the wall beyond.
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