'About what?' said I boldly.

'About Goguelat,' said he.

'I beg your pardon. I cannot conceive,' said I.

'Oh,' says the major, 'the man fell in a duel, and by your hand! I
am not an infant.'

'By no means,' said I. 'But you seem to me to be a good deal of a
theorist.'

'Shall we test it?' he asked. 'The doctor is close by. If there
is not an open wound on your shoulder, I am wrong. If there is--'
He waved his hand. 'But I advise you to think twice. There is a
deuce of a nasty drawback to the experiment--that what might have
remained private between us two becomes public property.'

'Oh, well!' said I, with a laugh, 'anything rather than a doctor!
I cannot bear the breed.'

His last words had a good deal relieved me, but I was still far
from comfortable.

Major Chevenix smoked awhile, looking now at his cigar ash, now at
me. 'I'm a soldier myself,' he says presently, 'and I've been out
in my time and hit my man. I don't want to run any one into a
corner for an affair that was at all necessary or correct. At the
same time, I want to know that much, and I'll take your word of
honour for it. Otherwise, I shall be very sorry, but the doctor