"
Just then the door opened and Pembroke's valet came in. He handed a
card to me, and I read upon it, "Count von Walden." I cast it into
Pembroke's lap.
"That's the man. He is the inseparable of the Prince of Wortumborg."
Then to the valet, "Show him up."
"What's it all about?" asked Pembroke.
"Honestly, I should like to run away," I said musingly. The snow on
the housetops across the way sparkled in the early moonshine. "It's
about a woman. If I live--ah!" I went to the door and swung it open.
The Count gravely passed over the threshold.
"Good evening," he said, with a look of inquiry at Pembroke.
"This gentleman," said I, as I introduced him, "will second me in the
affair to-morrow morning. I suppose you have come to make the final
arrangements?"
"Pardon me," began Pembroke, "but I do not understand--"
"Oh, I forgot. You are," I responded, "to be my second in a duel
to-morrow morning. Should anything happen to me, it were well to have
a friend near by, better still a relative. Well, Count?"
"The Prince desires me to inform you that he has selected pistols at
your request, and despite the fact that he has only the use of his left
hand, he permits you to use either of yours.
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