It ran thus:—­

“Sir, I am glad you have done me the favour of addressing me temperately, so that I am permitted to clear myself of an unjust and most unpleasant imputation.  I will, if you please, see you, or your friend; to whom perhaps I shall better be able to certify how unfounded is the charge you bring against me.  I will call upon you at the Pilot Inn, where I hear that you are staying; or, if you prefer it, I will attend to any appointment you may choose to direct elsewhere.  But it must be immediate, as the term of my residence in this neighbourhood is limited.

                              “I am,
                                   “Sir,
                              “Yours obediently,

“Edward Blancove.”

Major Waning read the lines with a critical attention.

“It seems fair and open,” was his remark.

“Here,” Robert struck his breast, “here’s what answers him.  What shall I do?  Shall I tell him to come?”

“Write to say that your friend will meet him at a stated place.”

Robert saw his prey escaping.  “I’m not to see him?”

“No.  The decent is the right way in such cases.  You must leave it to me.  This will be the proper method between gentlemen.”

“It appears to my idea,” said Robert, “that gentlemen are always, somehow, stopped from taking the straight-ahead measure.”

“You,” Percy rejoined, “are like a civilian before a fortress.  Either he finds it so easy that he can walk into it, or he gives it up in despair as unassailable.  You have followed your own devices, and what have you accomplished?”

“He will lie to you smoothly.”

“Smoothly or not, if I discover that he has spoken falsely, he is answerable to me.”

“To me, Percy.”

“No; to me.  He can elude you; and will be acquitted by the general verdict.  But when he becomes answerable to me, his honour, in the conventional, which is here the practical, sense, is at stake, and I have him.”

“I see that.  Yes; he can refuse to fight me,” Robert sighed.  “Hey, Lord! it’s a heavy world when we come to methods.  But will you, Percy, will you put it to him at the end of your fist—­’Did you deceive the girl, and do you know where the girl now is?’ Why, great heaven! we only ask to know where she is.  She may have been murdered.  She’s hidden from her family.  Let him confess, and let him go.”

Major Waring shook his head.  “You see like a woman perhaps, Robert.  You certainly talk like a woman.  I will state your suspicions.  When I have done so, I am bound to accept his reply.  If we discover it to have been false, I have my remedy.”

“Won’t you perceive, that it isn’t my object to punish him by and by, but to tear the secret out of him on the spot—­now—­instantly,” Robert cried.

“I perceive your object, and you have experienced some of the results of your system.  It’s the primitive action of an appeal to the god of combats, that is exploded in these days.  You have no course but to take his word.”