his cup in his hand judicially. "This matter will fall through at most
for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be
the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly
fashion. As to the stopping of it--well now, the law under William and
Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is
nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the
neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!"

Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. "Open the
window, Annie!" he cried suddenly to the servant. "Your mistress is
ill."




CHAPTER XI

AS CHANCE DECREED


Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
the face within.

"Will! Will Law, I say, come out!" called he. "What mad trick is this?
What--"