“I don’t mean a fight with fists,” he said slowly.  “I mean to a finish, to the death.  You’re a good shot with revolver and rifle.  So am I. That’s the way we’ll settle it.”

“You have gone clean mad.  You are a lunatic.”

“No, I’m not,” Tudor retorted.  “I’m a man in love.  And once again I ask you to go outside and settle it, with any weapons you choose.”

Sheldon regarded him for the first time with genuine seriousness, wondering what strange maggots could be gnawing in his brain to drive him to such unusual conduct.

“But men don’t act this way in real life,” Sheldon remarked.

“You’ll find I’m pretty real before you’re done with me.  I’m going to kill you to-day.”

“Bosh and nonsense, man.”  This time Sheldon had lost his temper over the superficial aspects of the situation.  “Bosh and nonsense, that’s all it is.  Men don’t fight duels in the twentieth century.  It’s—­it’s antediluvian, I tell you.”

“Speaking of Joan—­”

“Please keep her name out of it,” Sheldon warned him.

“I will, if you’ll fight.”

Sheldon threw up his arms despairingly.

“Speaking of Joan—­”

“Look out,” Sheldon warned again.

“Oh, go ahead, knock me down.  But that won’t close my mouth.  You can knock me down all day, but as fast as I get to my feet I’ll speak of Joan again.  Now will you fight?”

“Listen to me, Tudor,” Sheldon began, with an effort at decisiveness.  “I am not used to taking from men a tithe of what I’ve already taken from you.”

“You’ll take a lot more before the day’s out,” was the answer.  “I tell you, you simply must fight.  I’ll give you a fair chance to kill me, but I’ll kill you before the day’s out.  This isn’t civilization.  It’s the Solomon Islands, and a pretty primitive proposition for all that.  King Edward and law and order are represented by the Commissioner at Tulagi and an occasional visiting gunboat.  And two men and one woman is an equally primitive proposition.  We’ll settle it in the good old primitive way.”

As Sheldon looked at him the thought came to his mind that after all there might be something in the other’s wild adventures over the earth.  It required a man of that calibre, a man capable of obtruding a duel into orderly twentieth century life, to find such wild adventures.

“There’s only one way to stop me,” Tudor went on.  “I can’t insult you directly, I know.  You are too easy-going, or cowardly, or both, for that.  But I can narrate for you the talk of the beach—­ah, that grinds you, doesn’t it?  I can tell you what the beach has to say about you and this young girl running a plantation under a business partnership.”

“Stop!” Sheldon cried, for the other was beginning to vibrate and oscillate before his eyes.  “You want a duel.  I’ll give it to you.”  Then his common-sense and dislike for the ridiculous asserted themselves, and he added, “But it’s absurd, impossible.”