Halibut looked at him curiously.

“We must play for first proposal,” said the Major, firmly.  “We’re pretty evenly matched.”

“Chess?” gasped the other, a whole world of protest in his tones.

“Chess,” repeated the Major.

“It is hardly respectful,” demurred Halibut.  “What do you think the lady would do if she heard of it?”

“Laugh,” replied the Major, with conviction.

“I believe she would,” said the other, brightening.  “I believe she would.”

“You agree, then?”

“With conditions.”

“Conditions?” repeated the Major.

“One game,” said Halibut, speaking very slowly and distinctly; “and if the winner is refused, the loser not to propose until he gives him permission.”

“What the deuce for?” inquired the other, suspiciously.

“Suppose I win,” replied Halibut, with suspicious glibness, “and was so upset that I had one of my bilious attacks come on, where should I be?  Why, I might have to break off in the middle and go home.  A fellow can’t propose when everything in the room is going round and round.”

“I don’t think you ought to contemplate marriage, Halibut,” remarked the Major, very seriously and gently.

“Thanks,” said Halibut, dryly.

“Very well,” said the Major, “I agree to the conditions.  Better come to my place and we’ll decide it now.  If we look sharp, the winner may be able to know his fate to-day, after all.”

Halibut assenting, they walked back together.  The feverish joy of the gambler showed in the Major’s eye as they drew their chairs up to the little antique chess table and began to place their pieces ready for the fray.  Then a thought struck him, and he crossed over to the sideboard.

“If you’re feeling a bit off colour, Halibut,” he said, kindly, “you’d better have a little brandy to pull yourself together.  I don’t wish to take a mean advantage.”

“You’re very good,” said the other, as he eyed the noble measure of liquid poured out by his generous adversary.

“And now to business,” said the Major, as he drew himself a little soda from a siphon.

“Now to business,” repeated Halibut, rising and placing his glass on the mantel-piece.

The Major struggled fiercely with his feelings, but, despite himself, a guilty blush lent colour to the other’s unfounded suspicions.

“Remember the conditions,” said Halibut, impressively.

“Here’s my hand on it,” said the other, reaching over.

Halibut took it, and, his thoughts being at the moment far away, gave it a tender, respectful squeeze.  The Major stared and coughed.  It was suggestive of practice.

If the history of the duel is ever written, it will be found not unworthy of being reckoned with the most famous combats of ancient times.  Piece after piece was removed from the board, and the Major drank glass after glass of soda to cool his heated brain.  At the second glass Halibut took an empty tumbler and helped himself.  Suddenly there was a singing in the Major’s ears, and a voice, a hateful, triumphant voice, said,