THE COMPLETE JIM MAITLAND SERIES. H. C. McNeile / Sapper

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СКАЧАТЬ at his collar as if it were choking him.

      "We are about to drink the health of our King, Baron Stockmar," said the Colonel. "May I request you to stand up."

      The Baron rose. There was something in the ring of furious men who were staring at him that warned even his drink-bemused brain not to go too far. He rose, and the King was played—but the episode did not improve the harmony of the evening.

      And it was into this atmosphere that in all ignorance Jim and I blundered later on. The Baron was sitting with his back to us as we came in, drinking his third brandy and soda since dinner, and we neither of us noticed him. All we saw was a bunch of officers looking about as cheerful as a crowd of deaf- mutes, and Jim looked at them in surprise.

      "Why so merry and bright?" he cried cheerfully. "Having returned from a most successful trip in the wilds, and seen all my old pals— amongst 'em Mahomet Ali—we've come up to play hunt the slipper."

      And Mahomet Ali was the man whom the Baron had seen that afternoon.

      He rose from his chair and turned round facing Jim. Whether or not he realised that it was Jim who had forestalled him, I do not know, but on his face was the look of a maniac. What vestige of restraint he had imposed on himself during the evening vanished; for the moment the man was mad. It was the first time he had seen Jim since the episode at Shepheard's, and he walked towards him swaying slightly.

      "You struck me a little while ago," he said thickly. "Then you ran like a coward and an Englishman. Will this force you to give me the satisfaction one gentleman demands of another?"

      And he flung the contents of his glass straight in Jim's face.

      A suppressed murmur ran through the ante-room, and it was then that the Colonel's quiet word "Gentlemen" came as a douche of cold water; for passion was running high and ugly, and even the padre was muttering unprintable things under his breath. In fact the only man in the room who seemed completely unmoved was Jim. With exaggerated nonchalance he mopped his face with his handkerchief, then he polished his eyeglass and replaced it.

      "Dear me, Colonel," he remarked at length, "I wondered what had become of that gorilla I caught on my trip. But really I can't congratulate you on the manners you've taught it. I shall have to take the coarse brute in hand myself."

      With a snarl like a beast the Baron hurled himself at Jim, and for a moment my heart stood still. Immensely powerful though Jim was, at close quarters with this human monstrosity he could not have stood a chance. But once again I'd reckoned without my man. Even as he spoke he had been measuring the distance with his eye, and had moved back a couple of paces. And as Baron Stockmar rushed at him, Jim dived forward and tackled him below the knees. It was a perfect Rugby tackle, and the Baron's head in falling hit the edge of the piano. And they left him where he lay.

      "That is the second time, sir," said Jim to the Colonel. "The world is not big enough for this gentleman."

      "Careful, Jim," said the Colonel. "For God's sake don't get yourself into any trouble, old boy."

      "You can't go having any fool tricks with revolvers, Jim," said the second-in-command. "Duelling ain't allowed in His Majesty's domain."

      "Nevertheless, Tubby, old man," said Jim quietly, "I shall deal with him. Shall we leave it at that? I don't think you had better ask any questions."

      And at that moment the Baron staggered to his feet.

      "You will hear further from me, sir," he said shakily.

      "I should hate to think so," answered Jim coldly. "There's the door."

      No one spoke till the sound of his swaying footsteps had died away; then the Colonel again shook his head.

      "Jim," he said earnestly, "do, I entreat of you, be careful. You'll put me in such an awful position if...if..."'

      "Colonel," said Jim quietly, "did you hear what he said?— 'Like a coward and an Englishman.' Here—in your mess." His voice shook a little; then he went on quietly:

      "Unfortunately this place is so confoundedly civilised that one has got to be careful, as you say. So if he takes no further steps in the matter, and apologises before you all for his remark, I am prepared to let the matter drop. But otherwise—well, as I said before, you had better ask no questions."

      And it was at that moment that the mess-sergeant flung open the door of the ante-room, and ushered in a tall, fair-haired man who held himself stiffly.

      "Mr. Maitland," he said, standing by the door. "That's me," remarked Jim.

      "I am Count von Tarnim of the 3rd Regiment of the Prussian Guard. I am here on behalf of Baron Stockmar. Is there any gentleman here who is acting for you, and to whom I can speak? I presume you have guessed my mission."

      "I certainly have," said the Colonel quietly. "And you must quite understand, Count, that anything in the nature of duelling is strictly forbidden under English law, and that I, as the senior military officer here, flatly forbid it." Count von Tarnim bowed.

      "I understand, sir," he answered. "I am to give that message to my principal, am I, Mr. Maitland?"

      "You are," said Jim. "And when you've given that message, Mr. Leyton here will be delighted to discuss with you the weather conditions and the prospects of sport a little further up the White Nile."

      Count von Tarnim bowed again, and the suspicion of a smile hovered round his lips.

      "I shall find Mr. Leyton—where?" he asked.

      "At the hotel," I answered briefly, and with another stiff bow that included us all, he left the mess.

      "Maitland," said the Colonel sternly—and Jim grinned at him.

      "There's a spot I know of, Colonel," he remarked, "where the lion shooting is excellent. I feel sure Baron Stockmar would like some to ease his ruffled temper."

      And the Colonel began to smile.

      "Go away, confound you," he said, "I don't want to know anything about your shooting."

      "But for goodness' sake hit the lion," piped the padre, and as we left the mess they were standing him on his head in the corner for being a blood- thirsty little man.

      It was an hour later that Count von Tarnim came up to me in the hotel. Jim had told me his scheme; everything was cut and dried, and it only remained for me to put the details before the Count. From the beginning I had done nothing to dissuade Jim; in the first place I knew it was useless, in the second—well, the scheme appealed to me. Judged by the standards of English country life it was not perhaps all it should have been; but England seemed very far away that night.

      "My principal wishes to know when and where he may expect satisfaction," said the Count abruptly.

      "Precisely," I answered. "I am not well up in the etiquette of these matters, but I may say at once that my principal is only too ready to grant that satisfaction. But there are certain considerations which he has to bear in mind. As Colonel Latimer told you tonight, duelling is forbidden, and any infringement of the law against it would result not only in the survivor—should the duel end fatally—being hanged, but it would also involve Colonel Latimer in grave trouble.

      "In those circumstances my principal has decided as follows. СКАЧАТЬ