University of Virginia Library

27. CHAPTER XXVII.
THE PEREMPTORY CHALLENGE.

Ned slumbered fitfully the night after the reception of
the letter from his friend in the city. It was one of those
epistles which stir the mind profoundly, but leave all its
efforts lost in a sea of conjecture. Ned, however, had impulsively
acted upon one of its hints before weighing the
consequences. The letter to Lonsdale was the result of
an impromptu conviction, and was no more thought of by
him. And it might have been written even if he could

have foreseen the effect it was to produce upon such a
shallow mind as that of the proud citizen.

Ned was at the wharf when the boat landed, and the first
of more than a hundred passengers that stepped on board.
During the passage down the river several of his acquaintances
bowed slightly in recognition, but sought no friendly
converse with him. The sensitive young man felt pained
at this, and could not avoid supposing there must be some
cause, hidden from him, for such apparent estrangement.
He wandered about impatiently, from one portion of the
large steamer to another, as if his own exertions might
accelerate the speed of the boat.

Happening to see a newspaper lying on a table near
which no one else was sitting, as if it had been read and
thrown aside by its owner, he picked it up, and the first
article that arrested his eye was headed “False heirs—
Impostors.” It was the production of Mallex, and published
in a paper established by his capital, which, however,
now professed to be more elevated in its tone, and
fastidious in its morals, than any of its neighbours.

The secret was revealed to poor Ned why his acquaintances
avoided him! He had seen the paper handed about
among the passengers from Summerton, and of course
there were among them one or more sufficiently acute to
discover that our hero was the culpable individual aimed at.

The pang was but momentary. Ned was a man, now.
The flush of rage that gleamed upon his face was but as
the reflection of the lightning upon a distant cloud, and
was gone in an instant. Nor was it succeeded by a startling
pallor. But the young man's resolution was taken,
his purpose fixed, and his features only indicated the determination
he had formed, to see the publisher of the
paper, at a convenient season, and have a satisfactory explanation,
or else—he would not decide what should
be the consequence.

When the boat landed at the foot of Walnut street, Ned
was bowed to as he passed along by but one individual, and
that was old Captain Searles, the obliging and useful living
index stationed there for the benefit of strangers. A little
further up the street he met Bainton—his uncle Eugene—
with a traveling coat on his arm, and preceded by a porter

having in charge his trunk and valise. It was impossible
to avoid a mutual recognition; and Ned, although he did
not desire to exchange any words with his unjust kinsman,
supposed that the latter would certainly accost him in his
usual conciliatory manner. But it was not so. Bainton
stared an instant in his nephew's face, and then hurried past
without a nod or word. Even this change was deeply felt
by Ned, although he despised the man, and had ever repulsed
his friendly advances. He might be his kinsman,
but he could never be worthy his friendship until all the
wrongs he had committed were redressed, and full restitution
made.

But this was not the last blow which fate seemed to have
prepared for the victim which fortune in her capricious
freaks delighted to persecute. When passing some of the
principal stores in a fashionable street, Ned saw Mrs. Lonsdale
and Alice alight from their carriage and enter one of
those magnificent establishments which only the rich can
afford to visit. They passed within a few feet of him.
Alice had seen him before she entered. He accosted her.
She paused but for a moment, and then as if by a violent
effort turned her eyes away and vanished. Ned did not
dare to pursue. Alice was not indebted to him for any favours
conferred, she had not despoiled him of anything, save,
perhaps, his heart—which could not be worth a great deal
—and even of that he might have been mistaken. She
had a right to do as she pleased, and he would be the last
person in the world to require her to behave differently.

He strode on, and even occasionally dismissed the recollection
of the painful incident from his mind in the ensuing
whirlpool of his ideas. When he reached the office of his
friend, he was met by Persever, with a smile and an open
hand.

“Sit down, Ned, This is about the hour I expected
you. You look well, but agitated. I, too, was once almost
as impetuous as yourself. But your principles are
correct, and will always triumph, in the end, over your rash
impulses.”

“I hope so, sir,” said Ned. “But, nevertheless, sometimes
I find my sudden impulses to be right and proper,
and fully sanctioned by my deliberate judgment.”

“True, it is always the case when the act is a beneficent
one—but nearly always wrong, when it is of a contrary
nature.”

“I will not controvert the saying. I acted rashly and
wrongly when I wrote the challenge to Lonsdale. I hope
I did right when I subsequently sent him a retraction and
apology.”

“Have you done that?”

“I have.”

“I doubt whether it will benefit you in his estimation.
But it was right; and cannot, you know, according to my
theory, be attended in the end by any injurious effect.”

“I do not fear it. The sense of right in my own breast
is all I ask—let the consequences be what they will.
Lonsdale was my senior—but that does not always bar one
from requiring redress—and the step-father of Alice. But
she did not belong to me. It was a foolish business. I
had enemies who deserved my vengeance. Lonsdale has
not the capacity to injure any one. I had been taught
that duelling was unjustifiable, under any circumstances;
and I have assented to it. Yet if—”

“If what?”

“If there should be no other means of obtaining redress
from the publisher or editor of, the —, I shall probably
suppress my convictions of the impropriety and immorality
of the practice, until I—.”

“Oh, you may disregard the theory when it does not
answer your purpose.”

“No, sir; not disregard it. It is right. But I may
violate it with a readiness to submit to the penalty, so that
my foe shall be involved in the suffering. It is a sin to
commit suicide. But is the doomed victim censured who
seizes an implacable tyrant and plunges with him down a
precipice?”

“Ah, you need not argue the case with me. I have never
committed myself on the subject. You have seen the
article in the —? It was written by Mallex; I know
his style. It is both insidious and strong. He is a powerful
bad man. The publisher or editor is a mere nobody.
He has neither mind, heart or education. Let him go; he
will never win anything but contempt.”

“But the other? He shall not escape with impunity!”

“No. I am his man. He has demanded satisfaction
for certain words spoken by me, and I have accepted the
alternative he desired. It was for this reason I wanted
your presence.”

“For heaven's sake, let me fight him!” cried Ned, livid
with rage.

“I shall do no such thing. That would be one of the
rash, wrong acts. But you shall attend me on the ground,
and act for me in adjusting the preliminaries. It is now
about the hour for his friend to meet you here. I shall
withdraw and leave you to settle everything, only stipulating
that pistols shall be used; that we are not to go more
than five miles from the city; and that the time of meeting
shall be immediately—to-day, if possible.”

“But, my dear sir, the whole difficulty has its origin in
me. I am the cause of it. Why not permit me—”

“No more on that point. He has not challenged you,
and he will not. He might assassinate you, but it would
not answer his purpose to shoot you in open combat. It
would defeat his election. He will meet me, not because
he deems himself unjustly injured, but for the purpose of
acquiring a reputation, and to secure his nomination. It
is merely one of the tricks of the demagogue. But I may
defeat his object.”

“Who is his friend?”

“Fawner.”

“Fawner? Impossible! He is one of the strictest sect,
with broad phylacteries.”

“Oh yes, when worldly gain may be secured by it. But
now the profit is the other way. It was ever thus. Those
who make the loudest professions of purity, are often the
most facile under temptations, and the first to fall. The
hypocrite and the devil are never far apart, and the devil
himself will quote scripture if it answer his purpose. But
this Fawner was once in better society. He was educated
and rich, but got plucked by the stock-jobbers. He was
wild, too, and skilled in the use of arms. Watch him.
Yet, with my eyes open, they shall be welcome to all the
advantages they can win. You, I know, are not experienced
in such affairs. Stipulate the distance and time,
and leave the rest to me. I will return within an hour.”

“Saying this Persever withdrew, and a moment after
Fawner was seated in the office. The old man was smiling,
and perfectly gentlemanly in his demeanor. He alluded
without hesitation to his singular position, and begged Ned,
as a personal favour, that he would not mention to any one
the fact that he had officiated in the capacity of a second
on such an occasion. Ned readily assenting, there were
no obstacles thrown in the way to cause a departure from
the limits designated by Persever. All the details were
speedily arranged. The parties were to cross over to Camden
at four o'clock that afternoon, by different boats if possible,
and proceed together in different carriages until they
should find a fitting place for the exchange of shots.

No sooner had Fawner withdrawn than Persever reappeared.
He assented to everything. They then sallied
out in quest of pistols, which they procured, as they stated,
merely for target exercise, at a shop in — street.

As they left the shop they were encountered by Tim
Trudge, and one of his neighbors, an honest fat farmer.
It seemed that Susan had a presentiment of danger attending
Ned, inasmuch as he did not explain the contents of
the letter received the preceding evening so fully or so satisfactorily
as was his usual custom. He had, moreover,
been silent in regard to the letter written to Mr. Lonsdale.
Therefore she sent for Tim at an early hour in the morning,
and urged him to follow Ned in the next boat, and not
lose sight of him while he remained in the city. Tim of
course obeyed; and not only that, but his good-natured
neighbour accompanied him. On the way down the river,
Tim explained sufficiently the history of Ned to enlist the
sympathy of his honest neighbour, who, although he had
never had any personal acquaintance with Ned, declared
he was quite ready to defend him, or to serve him in any
way he could.

“Why, Tim!” exclaimed Ned, “what are you doing
here?”

“Me? I'm on business for Susan.”

“And Susan must be obeyed in anything that's not
onreasonable,” said Tim's merry-faced friend.

“But, Lord bless us, what're you doing here?” asked

Trudge, pointing to the shop, the windows of which were
filled with guns, pistols, decoy ducks, etc.

“On business, Tim—business with Mr. Persever. But
it is an unusual question for you to ask.”

“Go about your business, Tim,” said Persever. “Sell
your eggs, while we are hatching affairs of more importance.
Come, Ned, we must return to the office before we
go over.”

The belligerent couple then mounted into a hack, and
were driven briskly away.

“What was that thing he had under his arm?” asked
Tim's friend, who was likewise named Tim, but must be
called Timothy for the sake of distinction.

“Blamed if I don't ask! Come, let's go in and find
out. See here,” he continued, very much excited, stepping
into the shop, and addressing the one who had been waiting
upon Persever and Ned, “do you know who those two
gentlemen was, that jist come out of here?”

“No; I don't know either of them,” was the reply.

“Didn't they get that box-thing one had under his arm,
in here?” asked Timothy.

“Yes.”

“Did they buy it?”

“No; but they are to pay for the use of them.”

“You let 'em have it, and say you don't know 'em?”
continued Timothy.

“Certainly. The eldest deposited twenty dollars, the
price of the pistols, which is all the security I want.”

“Pistols!” said poor Tim, almost annihilated.

“It's a duel! As sure as a gun it's a duel!” said Timothy,
slapping his broad hand down on the counter.

“Do you know them?” asked the shopkeeper.

“Yes!” cried Tim, “and murder's a-going to be done
if it ain't stopped! Susan knew it! I say, sir, it must be
stopped. You must take the pistols away from 'em, or
mischief'll be done!”

“That's their business, not mine,” was the reply.

“And you're a going to let 'em fight with your pistols?”

“I don't care if they do. It won't hurt the pistols.”

“Oh, you—you'll be a murderer, sir; I'll have you
taken up and arrested. You'll be guilty of shedding poor
Ned's blood.”

“Who is poor Ned?”

“The young one. The tall pale one,” said Tim.

“What! Do you think he intends to shoot himself in a
duel.”

“But—but—Oh, neighbor, let us do something or other,
and not be standing here talking to this pistol-man!” cried
Tim, moving towards the door.

“My friends!” cried the vender of pistols, as the two
Tims were leaving the shop, “if they are really bent on
fighting a duel, perhaps you'd better not interfere. You
might get into a scrape. No doubt they have good reason
for fighting, or they wouldn't run the risk. Let every one
attend to his own business. If it is no business of yours,
you'd better take my advice, and not meddle in the matter.”

Timothy and Tim paid no heed to the gratuitous advice
of the pistol-vender, but hastened toward the mansion of
the banker, in the supposition that something definite might
be ascertained there. And, sure enough, when they drew
near the dwelling, they found Fawner standing in the door,
and a moment after a carriage drove up, from which Mallex
himself descended. He held a brace of pistols in his
hand, and even seemed to make an ostentatious display of
them as he entered the house.

“Mr. Fawner!” cried Tim, just in time to secure the
old man's attention before he closed the door.

“Well, what do you want?” replied Fawner, pausing a
moment.

“I want to know, by gosh! if Mr. Mallex and Ned Lorn
are a going to fight a duel.”

“No—hem—that is, not that I—but why do you ask
me? What do I know about duels, and such abominable
things? Oh, it's you, Trudge, is it?”

“Yes, it's me, me and my friend, here. And we believe
Mr. Mallex is a-going to try to shoot at Ned after robbin'
him of his fortin. But he shan't do it, I'll be consarned
if he does!”

“Yes, and I'll mow him down, first!” said Timothy.

“You are both silly creatures to suppose anything of
the sort,” said Fawner. Then a moment after, and evidently
in accordance with a hint he received from his principal,
who was listening within, he continued: “But to

satisfy yourselves, come in, and see Mr. Mallex himself.
He is at home.”

“No you don't! I'll be hanged if you do!” said Tim,
shaking his head. You caught me once in your man-trap
down in — street.”

“Yes, consume him, and he'd play the same game agin!”
said Timothy, who had been informed of the occurrence by
Tim.

“Away with you! away with you both!” cried Mallex,
stepping forward to the door. “If you stay another minute,
I'll send for the police.”

“The police? That's it! Thank you!” said Tim.
“We'll go there first. That's the idea. We'll see who'll
be arrested first. Come, Timothy.”

And the honest couple set off in the direction of the
mayor's office.

“He has accepted, sir,” said Fawner.

“Of course he has!” returned Mallex. “He is no
coward. Once I thought differently; but have learned
it was a mistake. He is not one of your law-abiding
citizens who would utter injurious insinuations, or offer an
open insult, and then take refuge under the shelter of the
law. He is a brave, determined enemy; and therefore I
must silence him, either by a ball in his gullet or a perfect
vindication of my honour. Who's his second?”

“Ned Lorn.”

“Hah! Then, Fawner, I'm a dead man! Farewell to
Job Mallex, and all his lofty aspirations!”

“Why, sir? I hope not, sir!”

“I fear it is past hoping for! Why? Because my
enemy's friend is my enemy. He hates me, and will
neglect no opportunity of giving his principal the advantage.
Yes, they have the advantage of us. You have no
ill feeling for either of them. It is too late for me to procure
another second.”

“I do hate them both, sir, although it may be unchristian
in me to say so!” responded Fawner. “And if they get any
advantage on the ground, let me be held accountable for it.
No, sir! You will come off conqueror. Only promise me
one thing: that if you draw blood, you will not grant him
another fire.”

“I promise. That would answer my immediate purpose.
Now promise me one thing,” said Mallex, taking a coin
from his pocket. “That you will not look at both sides
of this coin, which is to be thrown up when the question of
position arises.”

Fawner promised, and placed the coin in his pocket without
looking at it.

“When do we meet?” demanded Mallex.

“At four—over in Jersey.”

“I wish it were at two!” was the response. “And I
shall make no provision for a fatal contingency, since you
are resolved to be my friend indeed. After the affair is
over, if the result should not be fatal to him, we must
drive out to the country house and remain in quietude until
the storm in the city blows over. The more the press shall
condemn, the more my good constituents will applaud.”

They lost no time in making a thorough examination of
the pistols, which were fired several times in the yard, and
found to be in perfect order.