The Broad Highway

"Exactly; you know him, sir?"

"No," I answered, "but I have seen him, very lately, and I say

again to stop this duel is an impossibility."

"Do you mean--" he began, and paused. Now, as his eyes met mine,

the battered hat escaped his fingers, and lay all unheeded. "Do

you mean--" he began again, and again stopped.

"Yes," said I, "I mean that you are too late. Sir Jasper was

killed at a place called Deepdene Wood, no longer since than

to-day at half-past seven in the morning. It was raining at

the time, I remember, but the day grew glorious later."

For a long moment Mr. Beverley stood silent with bent head, then,

apparently becoming aware of the hat at his feet, he sent it

flying with a sudden kick, and watched it describe a wide parabola

ere it disappeared into the ditch, some yards away. Which done,

he walked after it, and returned, brushing it very carefully with

his ragged cuff.

"And--you are sure--quite sure, Mr. Vibart?" he inquired, smoothing

the broken brim with the greatest solicitude.

"I stood behind a hedge, and watched it done," said I.

"Then--my God!--I am Sir Peregrine Beverley! I am Sir Peregrine

Beverley of Burnham Hall, very much at your service. Jasper--dead!

A knight banneret of Kent, and Justice of the Peace! How utterly

preposterous it all sounds! But to-day I begin life anew, ah, yes,

a new life, a new life! To-day all things are possible again!

The fool has learned wisdom, and, I hope, become a man. But come,"

said he in a more natural tone, "let us get back to our ditch, and,

while you tell me the particulars, if you don't object I should

much like to try a whiff at that pipe of yours."

So, while I recounted the affair as briefly as I might, he sat

puffing at my pipe, and staring away into the distance. But

gradually his head sank lower and lower, until his face was quite

hidden from me, and for a long moment after I had ended my

narration, there was silence.

"Poor Jasper!" said he at last, without raising his head, "poor

old Jasper!"

"I congratulate you, Sir Peregrine," said I.

"And I used to pummel him so, when we were boys together at Eton

--poor old Jasper!" And, presently, he handed me my pipe, and

rose. "Mr. Vibart," said he, "it would seem that by no effort,

or virtue of my own, I am to win free of this howling desolation

of Nowhere-in-Particular, after all; believe me, I would gladly

take you with me. Had I not met with you it is--rather more than

probable--that I--should never have seen another dawn; so if--if

ever I can be of--use to you, pray honor me so far; you can

always hear of me at Burnham Hall, Pembry. Good-by, Mr. Vibart,

I am going to her--in all my rags--for I am a man again."