with a bow, his cheek red where I had struck him.

"It is my quarrel now, Mr. Carvel," he cried.

"As you please, my Lord," said I.

"It boots not who crosses with him," Captain Collinson put in. "His
Lordship uses the sword better than any here. But it boots not so that
he is opposed by a loyal servant of the King."

I wheeled on him for this.

"I would have you know that loyalty does not consist in outrage and
murder, sir," I answered, "nor in the ridiculing of them. And brutes
cannot be loyal save through interest."

He was angered, as I had desired. I had hopes then of shouldering the
quarrel on to him, for I had near as soon drawn against my own brother as
against Comyn. I protest I loved him then as one with whom I had been
reared.

"Let me deal with this young gamecock, Comyn," cried the captain, with an
oath. "He seems to think his importance sufficient."

But Comyn would brook no interference. He swore that no man should
strike him with impunity, and in this I could not but allow he was right.

"You shall hear from me, Mr. Carvel," he said.

"Nay," I answered, "and fighting is to be done, sir, let us be through