 chosen by lot.  Irons, yours is there.  Take
your ground, gentlemen."

The young men walked to their places and at this point the graphic
Major Solomon Binkus, whose keen eyes observed every detail of the
scene, is able to assume the position of narrator, the words which
follow being from a letter he wrote to John Irons of Albany.

"Our young David stood up thar as straight an' han'some as a young
spruce on a still day--not a quiver in ary twig.  The Clarke boy was a
leetle pale an' when he raised his pistol I could see a twitch in his
lips.  He looked kind o' stiff.  I see they was one thing' 'bout
shootin' he hadn't learnt.  It don't do to tighten up.  I were
skeered--I don't deny it--'cause a gun don't allus have to be p'inted
careful to kill a man.

"We all stood watchin' every move.  I could hear a bird singin' twenty
rod,--'twere that still.  Preston stood a leetle out o' line 'bout
half-way betwixt 'em.  Up come his hand with the han'kerchief in it.
Then Jack raised his pistol and took a peek down the line he wanted.
The han'kerchief was in the air.  Don't seem so it had fell an inch
when the pistols went pop! pop!  Jack's hollered fust.  Clarke's pistol
fell.  His arm dropped an' swung limp as a rope's end.  His hand turned
red an' blood began to spurt above it.  I see Jack's bullet had jumped
into his right wrist an' tore it wide open.  The Lieutenant staggered,
bleedin' like a stuck whale.  He'd 'a' gone to the ground but his
friends grabbed him.  I run to Jack.

"'Be ye hit?' I says.

"'I think his bullet teched me a little on the top o' the left
shoulder,' says he.

"I see his coat were tore an' we took it off an' the jacket, an' I
ripped the shirt some an' see that the bullet had kind o' scuffed its
foot on him goin' by, an' left a track in the skin.  It didn't mount to
nothin'.  The Doctor washed it off an' put a plaster on.

"'Looks as if he'd drawed a line on yer heart an' yer bullet had lifted
his aim,' I says.  'Ye shoot quick, Jack, an' mebbe that's what saved
ye.'

"It looked kind o' neevarious like that 'ere Englishman had intended
they was goin' to be one Yankee less.  Jack put on his jacket an' his
coat an' we stepped over to see how they was gettin' erlong with the
other feller.  The two doctors was tryin' fer to fix his arm and he
were groanin' severe.  Jack leaned over and looked down at him.

"'I'm sorry,' he says.  'Is there anything I can do?'

"'No, sir.  You've done enuff,' growled the old General.

"One o' his party stepped up to Jack.  He were dressed like a high-up
officer in the army.  They was a cur'ous look in his eyes--kind o'
skeered like.  Seemed so I'd seen him afore somewheres.

"'I fancy ye're a good shot, sir--a good shot, sir--what--what?' he
says to Jack, an' the words come as fast as a bird's twitter.

"I've had a lot o' practise,' says our boy.

"'Kin ye kill that bird--what--what?" says he, p'intin' at a hawk that
were a-cuttin' circles in the air.

"'If he comes clus' 'nough,' says Jack.

"I passed him the loaded pistol.  In 'bout two seconds he lifted it and
bang she went, an' down come the hawk.

"Them fellers all looked at one 'nother.

"'Gin'ral, shake hands with this 'ere boy,' says the man with the
skeered eyes.  'If he is a Yankey he's a decent lad--what--what?'

"The Gin'ral shook hands with Jack an', says he: 'Young man, I have no
doubt o' 'yer curidge or yer decency.'

"A grand pair o' hosses an' a closed coach druv up an' the ol'
what-whatter an' two other men got into it an' hustled off 'cross the
field towards the pike which it looked as if they was in a hurry.
'Fore he were out o' sight a military amb'lance druv up.  Preston come
over to us an' says he:

"'We better be goin'.'

"'Do ye know who he were?' asks Jack.

"'If ye know ye better fergit it,' says Preston.

"'How could I?  He were the King o' England,' says Jack.  'I knowed him
by the look o' his eyes.'

"'Sart'in sure,' says I.  'He's the man that wus bein' toted in a
chair.'

"'Hush!  I tell ye to fergit it,' says Preston.

"'I can fergit all but the fact that he behaved like a gentleman,' says
Jack.

"'I'spose he were usin' his private brain,' says I."

This, with some slight changes in spelling, paragraphing and
punctuation, is the account which Solomon Binkus gave of the most
exciting adventure these two friends had met with.

Preston came to Jack and whispered: "The outcome is a great surprise to
the other side.  Young Clarke is a dead shot.  An injured officer of
the English army may cause unexpected embarrassment.  But you have time
enough and no haste.  You can take the post chaise and reach the ship
well ahead of her sailing."

"I am of a mind not to go with you," Jack said to Solomon.  "When I go,
I shall take Margaret with me."

So it happened that Jack returned to London while Solomon waited for
the post chaise to Deal.


CHAPTER X

THE LADY OF THE HIDDEN FACE

Next morning at ten, the door boy at his lodgings informed Jack that a
lady was waiting to see him in the parlor.  The lady was deeply veiled.
She did not speak, but arose as he entered the room and handed him a
note.  She was tall and erect with a fine carriage.  Her silence was
impressive, her costume admirable.

The note in a script unfamiliar to the young man was as follows:

"You will find Margaret waiting in a coach at eleven to-day at the
corner of Harley Street and Twickenham Road."

The veiled lady walked to the door and turned and stood looking at him.

Her attitude said clearly: "Well, what is your answer?"

"I will be there at eleven," said the young man.  The veiled lady
nodded, as if to indicate that her mission was ended, and withdrew.

Jack was thrilled by the information but wondered why it was so wrapped
in mystery.  Not ten minutes had passed after the departure of the
veiled lady when a messenger came with a note from Sir Benjamin Hare.
In a cordial tone, it invited Jack to breakfast at the Almack Club at
twelve-thirty.  The young man returned his acceptance by the same
messenger, and in his best morning suit went to meet Margaret.  A cab
conveyed him to the corner named.  There was the coach with shades
drawn low, waiting.  A footman stood near it.  The door was opened and
he saw Margaret looking out at him and shaking her hand.

"You see what a sly thing I am!" she said when, the greetings over, he
sat by her side and the coach was moving.  "A London girl knows how to
get her way.  She is terribly wise, Jack."

"But, tell me, who was the veiled lady?"

"A go-between.  She makes her living that way.  She is wise, discreet
and reliable.  There is employment for many such in this wicked city.
I feel disgraced, Jack.  I hope you will not think that I am accustomed
to dark and secret ways.  This has worried and distressed me, but I had
to see you."

"And I was longing for a look at you," he said.

"I was sure you would not know how to pull these ropes of intrigue.  I
have heard all about them.