At length Courtlandt returned to the lounge. "The Barone called upon me this morning."
"I think you had better write him an apology."
Abbott sat up. He flung the piece of plaster violently to the floor. "Apologize? Well, I like your nerve to come here with that kind of wabble. Look at these lips! Man, he struck me across the mouth, and I knocked him down."
"It was a pretty good wallop, considering that you couldn't see his face very well in the dark. I always said that you had more spunk to the square inch than any other chap I know. But over here, Suds, as you know, it's different. You can't knock down an officer and get away with it. So, you just sit down at your desk and write a little note, saying that you regret your hastiness. I'll see that it goes through all right. Fortunately, no one heard of the row."
"I'll see you both farther!" wrathfully. "Look at these lips, I say!"
"Before he struck you, you must have given provocation."
"Sha'n't discuss what took place. Nor will I apologize."
"Well, I'm sorry. The Barone is a decent sort. He gives you the preference, and suggests that you select pistols, since you would be no match for him with rapiers."
"Pistols!" shouted Abbott. "For the love of glory, what are you driving at?"
"The Barone has asked me to be his second. And I have despatched a note to the colonel, advising him to attend to your side. I accepted the Barone's proposition solely that I might get here first and convince you that an apology will save you a heap of discomfort. The Barone is a first-rate shot, and doubtless he will only wing you. But that will mean scandal and several weeks in the hospital, to say nothing of a devil of a row with the civil authorities. In the army the Italian still fights his _duello_, but these affairs never get into the newspapers, as in France. Seldom, however, is any one seriously hurt. They are excitable, and consequently a good shot is likely to shoot wildly at a pinch. So there you are, my boy."
"Are you in your right mind? Do you mean to tell me that you have come here to arrange a duel?" asked Abbott, his voice low and a bit shaky.
"To prevent one. So, write your apology. Don't worry about the moral side of the question. It's only a fool who will offer himself as a target to a man who knows how to shoot. You couldn't hit the broadside of a barn with a shot-gun."