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  Hardly five minutes after their arrival another conveyance, this time a travelling chaise, drove into the field, and Mr Farnaby and Captain Crake got out.

  Mr Fitzjohn, observing the chaise, was conscious once more of that faint feeling of unease. Unless he was much mistaken there was a box strapped to the back of the chaise, and although the vehicle was only drawn by a pair of horses with one postilion, it had all the appearance of being about to make a journey of some distance. His lips tightened; he began to suspect Mr Farnaby of having a sterner purpose than he had supposed possible, and determined, in the event of Peregrine’s receiving a mortal wound, to put every obstacle in the way of his opponent’s flight.

  Both the new-comers were stamping their feet on the ground and slapping their hands on their arms, but Captain Crake soon came across the field to where Mr Fitzjohn awaited him, and after the briefest of greetings the pair set about the task of inspecting and loading the pistols. No second shot was to be allowed, so that only Mr Fitzjohn’s pistols (a very fine pair of Manton’s, ten inches in length in the barrels, and with steel sights) were loaded.

  This done, Mr Fitzjohn rejoined Peregrine, and said in a low voice: ‘Twelve paces. You can’t miss, Perry. Let him have it!’

  ‘Yes, if I can I will,’ answered Peregrine, beginning to un button his greatcoat. ‘Do you advise fighting in this coat or without it?’

  ‘Without it,’ said Mr Fitzjohn, grimly surveying the very large mother-of-pearl buttons with which the coat was adorned. ‘I should have warned you to wear a black coat. Close it up to the throat, and remember not to stand square to the fellow, but give your side only, and keep your arm well in to it. And don’t lower it until Farnaby’s shot, Perry! Here comes the fellow now. You must salute him, of course, but I need not tell you that.’ He waited until this formality had been gone through, and then said: ‘Listen to me, Perry! Make up your mind where you mean to hit him, and don’t trouble your head with wondering where he means to hit you! Take your aim when I say “All’s ready,” keep your eye on the handkerchief, and when I let it drop, shoot! If you kill him I’ll get you away somehow.’

  ‘It sounds mighty desperate,’ said Peregrine, forcing his pale lips into a smile. ‘You’re a curst good friend, Fitz. Thank you, and – oh, well, just thank you!’

  Mr Fitzjohn gripped his shoulder. ‘Breakfast in my lodgings afterwards,’ he said, and walked off to measure the paces with Captain Crake.

  Peregrine buttoned up his coat to the throat, observing as he did so that Mr Farnaby, who was wearing black, had done the same. Mr Farnaby, after his salute, had not looked at him again. He seemed to be impatient, and kept calling to his second to make haste, and not keep them all standing in the cold. When called upon to leech he came at once to the spot, took the pistol Mr Fitzjohn handed him at half-cock, and stood with the muzzle pointed to the ground.

  Peregrine was given the second pistol, and realised that the palms of his hands were sweating slightly. He wiped them on his pantaloons, took the pistol carefully (for the slightest touch would make a duelling pistol go off when set at half-cock, as he very well knew), and put himself into position.

  The doctor turned his back, and the seconds retreated to a distance of eight paces. Peregrine was conscious of a sharp wind, ruffling his yellow locks; he fixed his eyes on Farnaby, trying to decide on some object on his dress to choose as his mark.

  Mr Fitzjohn was holding up a handkerchief; it fluttered in the wind, a splash of white against a background of grey.

  Then, before the word could be given, an interruption took place. A third coach, this time a heavy, lumbering affair, had driven up, and several men now jumped down from it, and came running towards the duellists, shouting: ‘In the name of the Law! Hold!’

  Peregrine jerked his head round, heard a stifled oath from Farnaby, and the next minute was in the grip of a burly officer. ‘I arrest you the name of the Law!’ puffed this individual. ‘Attempt to break the peace! I shall have to take you before a magistrate.’

  Mr Fitzjohn, who admitted afterwards that he had never been so glad to see a constable before, heaved one long sigh of relief, and said: ‘Oh, very well! Nothing for it, Perry; you had better put your coat on again.’

  Mr Farnaby, in the grip of a second constable, showed a disposition to resist. ‘Who set you on?’ he demanded.

  ‘Acting on information received,’ was the curt reply. ‘Now give me that pistol, sir! It ain’t no use resisting.’

  An unwelcome suspicion crossed Peregrine’s mind. He said quickly: ‘Do you know who lodged the information?’

  ‘No, nor it ain’t my business,’ answered the constable.‘You put on your coat, sir, and come with us.’

  Mr Fitzjohn went to lend Peregrine a hand. ‘Do you suspect someone?’ he asked in an under-voice.

  ‘By God I do, and I mean to know the truth!’

  ‘Who knew of it?’

  ‘My cousin,’ said Peregrine. ‘But I did not tell him the place of rendezvous – of that I am perfectly certain! How he found that out, if it was he –’

  ‘But, Perry, surely he wouldn’t inform the magistrates if you told him in confidence, which I suppose you must have?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I shall find out!’ said Peregrine, buttoning up his greatcoat.

  Mr Fitzjohn turned with sudden suspicion to the doctor, who was standing beside them. ‘I take it you know nothing of this, Lane?’

  The doctor replied in a dry tone: ‘I did not lay information against your principal, sir, but I am forced to admit that it may be through me that this duel has been interrupted. If it was so I cannot regret it, though I certainly did not intend it.’

  ‘What the devil do you mean?’ said Mr Fitzjohn.

  The doctor tucked his case of instruments under his arm. ‘Yesterday, sir,’ he said, ‘not long after you called on me, I received a visit from another gentleman requiring my services in an affair of honour to-day. I told him that it was quite out of my power, since I was already engaged. He gave me to understand that he was acting as second to your opponent – a fact I could readily believe, as it would be an odd, almost an unprecedented occurrence, for two duels to be fought in London upon the same day. I informed this gentleman that I could not disclose the name of my principal, though I should have no objection to attending his man as well if he should prove to be the unknown adversary. He realised the propriety of my scruples, and at once made it plain to me that he was conversant with your affair by giving me the names of yourself and Sir Peregrine Taverner. I said that I should be happy to do what I could for his principal, and, as I recollect, we fell into some slight conversation, during the course of which I might easily mention the place of rendezvous. When your opponent came on to the ground, sir, and I perceived his friend to be totally unlike my visitor, I own I felt surprise. But upon reflection I could not recollect that my visitor actually stated that he was acting as a second in the affair, and I concluded that I had misunderstood him, and that he had come to me in place of the second.’

  ‘What was he like?’ demanded Peregrine, who had listened to this speech with considerable impatience. ‘Was he tall, rather dark, and elegantly dressed?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the doctor. ‘Certainly he was tall. I should describe him as very dark. He was a gentleman-like man, quiet in his manner, and with a pronounced air of fashion.’

  ‘I knew it!’ said Peregrine. ‘My cousin to the life!’

  At this point one of the constables came up to request their following him to the coach. They could only obey, and in a few minutes the whole party was being driven off to the nearest magistrate.

  It was fully an hour before the principals were at liberty to go their several ways. Both were bound over to keep the peace, a great many formalities were gone through, sureties were paid, the magistrate read them a lecture, and Mr Fitzjohn longed for his breakfast. At last they were set free. Mr Farnaby and his second, both wearing the blackest of scowls, drove away in their chaise, and Peregr