Robert touched his head.  “I dropped like a horse-chestnut from the tree.  When I recovered, I was lying in the lane.  I think I was there flat, face to the ground, for half an hour, quite sensible, looking at the pretty colour of my blood on the snow.  The horse was gone.  I just managed to reel along to this place, where there’s always a home for me.  Now, will you believe it possible?  I went out next day:  I saw Mr. Edward Blancove, and I might have seen a baby and felt the same to it.  I didn’t know him a bit.  Yesterday morning your letter was sent up from Sutton farm.  Somehow, the moment I’d read it, I remembered his face.  I sent him word there was a matter to be settled between us.  You think I was wrong?”

Major Waring had set a deliberately calculating eye on him.

“I want to hear more,” he said.

“You think I have no claim to challenge a man in his position?”

“Answer me first, Robert.  You think this Mr. Blancove helped, or instigated this man Sedgett in his attack upon you?”

“I haven’t a doubt that he did.”

“It’s not plain evidence.”

“It’s good circumstantial evidence.”

“At any rate, you are perhaps justified in thinking him capable of this:  though the rule is, to believe nothing against a gentleman until it is flatly proved—­when we drum him out of the ranks.  But, if you can fancy it true, would you put yourself upon an equal footing with him?”

“I would,” said Robert.

“Then you accept his code of morals.”

“That’s too shrewd for me:  but men who preach against duelling, or any kind of man-to-man in hot earnest, always fence in that way.”

“I detest duelling,” Major Waring remarked.  “I don’t like a system that permits knaves and fools to exercise a claim to imperil the lives of useful men.  Let me observe, that I am not a preacher against it.  I think you know my opinions; and they are not quite those of the English magistrate, and other mild persons who are wrathful at the practice upon any pretence.  Keep to the other discussion.  You challenge a man—­you admit him your equal.  But why do I argue with you?  I know your mind as well as my own.  You have some other idea in the background.”

“I feel that he’s the guilty man,” said Robert.

“You feel called upon to punish him.”

“No.  Wait:  he will not fight; but I have him and I’ll hold him.  I feel he’s the man who has injured this girl, by every witness of facts that I can bring together; and as for the other young fellow I led such a dog’s life down here, I could beg his pardon.  This one’s eye met mine.  I saw it wouldn’t have stopped short of murder—­opportunity given.  Why?  Because I pressed on the right spring.  I’m like a woman in seeing some things.  He shall repent.  By—!  Slap me on the face, Percy.  I’ve taken to brandy and to swearing.  Damn the girl who made me forget good lessons!  Bless her heart, I mean.  She saw you, did she?  Did she colour when she heard your name?”