“It is too late now for vain regrets.”

He then wrote a note with a hurried air, and dispatched it by an attendant.  This done, he again commenced pacing the floor of his office, but now with slower steps, and a face expressive of sad determination.  In about twenty minutes a young man entered, saying, as he did so—­

“I’m here at a word, Harvey—­and now what is this important business which I can do for you, and for which you are going to be so everlastingly obliged?”

“That will tell you,” Lane briefly said, handing him the challenge he had received.

The young man’s face turned pale as he read the note.

“Bless me, Harvey!” he ejaculated, as he threw the paper upon the table.  “This is a serious matter, truly!  Why how have you managed to offend Everett?  I always thought that you were friends of the warmest kind.”

“So we have been, until now.  And at this moment, I have not an unkind thought towards him, notwithstanding he threw a bottle of wine at my head last night, which, had it taken effect, would have, doubtless, killed me instantly.”

“How in the world did that happen, doctor?”

“We were both flushed with wine, at the time.  I said something that I ought not to have said—­something which had I been myself, I would have cut off my right hand before I would have uttered—­and it roused him into instant passion.”

“And not satisfied with throwing the bottle of wine at your head, he now sends you a challenge?”

“Yes.  And I must accept it, notwithstanding I have no angry feelings against him; and, but for the hasty step he has now taken, would have most willingly asked his pardon.”

“That, of course, is out of the question now,” the friend replied.  “But I will see his second; and endeavour, through him, to bring about a reconciliation, if I can do so, honourably, to yourself.”

“As to that,” replied Lane, “I have nothing to say.  If he insists upon a meeting, I will give him the satisfaction he seeks.”

It was about half an hour after, that the friend of Lane called upon the friend of Everett.  They were old acquaintances.

“You represent Everett, I believe, in this unpleasant affair between him and doctor Lane,” the latter said.

“I do,” was the grave reply.

“Surely we can prevent a meeting!” the friend of Lane said, with eagerness.

“I do not see how,” was the reply.

“They were flushed with wine when the provocation occurred, and this ought to prevent a fatal meeting.  If Lane insulted Everett, it was because he was not himself.  Had he been perfectly sober, he would never have uttered an offensive word.”

“Perhaps not.  But with that I have nothing to do.  He has insulted my friend, and that friend asks a meeting.  He can do no less than grant it—­or prove himself a coward.”

“I really cannot see the necessity that this should follow,” urged the other.  “It seems to me, that it is in our power to prevent any hostile meeting.”