"You'll fight me?" said the admiral, jumping up.
"Yes; if you challenge me."
"By Jove I do; of course"
"Then I accept it; and the challenged party, you know well, or ought to know, can make his own terms in the encounter."
"Make what terms you please; I care not what they are. Only say you will fight, and that's sufficient."
"It is well," said Sir Francis Varney, in a solemn tone.
"Nay, nay," interrupted Mr. Chillingworth; "this is boyish folly."
"Hold your row," said the admiral, "and let's hear what he's got to say."
"In this mansion," said Sir Francis Varney--"for a mansion it is, although under the unpretending name of a lodge--in this mansion there is a large apartment which was originally fitted up by a scientific proprietor of the place, for the purpose of microscopic and other experiments, which required a darkness total and complete, such a darkness as seems as if it could be felt--palpable, thick, and obscure as the darkness of the tomb, and I know what that is."
"The devil you do!" said this admiral "It's damp, too, ain't it?"
"The room?"
"No; the grave."
"Oh! uncommonly, after autumnal rains. But to resume--this room is large, lofty, and perfectly empty."
"Well?"
"I propose that we procure two scythes."
"Two what?"
"Scythes, with their long handles, and their convenient holding places."
"Well, I'll be hanged! What next do you propose?"
"You may be hanged. The next is, that with these scythes we be both of us placed in the darkened room, and the door closed, and doubly locked upon us for one hour, and that then and there we do our best each to cut the other in two. If you succeed in dismembering me, you will have won the day; but I hope, from my superior agility"--here Sir Francis jumped upon his chair, and sat upon the back of it--"to get the better or you. How do you like the plan I have proposed? Does it meet your wishes?"
"Curse your impudence!" said the admiral, placing his elbows upon the table and resting his chin in astonishment upon his two hands.
"Nay," interrupted Sir Francis, "you challenged me; and, besides, you'll have an equal chance, you know that. If you succeed in striking me first, down I go; whereas it I succeed in striking you first, down you go."
As he spoke, Sir Francis Varney stretched out his foot, and closed a small bracket which held out the flap of the table on which the admiral was leaning, and, accordingly, down the admiral went, tea-tray and all.
Mr. Chillingworth ran to help him up, and, when they both recovered their feet, they found they were alone.
CHAPTER LXI.
THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER.--THE PARTICULARS OF THE SUICIDE AT BANNERWORTH HALL.
[Illustration]
"Hilloa where the deuce is he?" said the admiral. "Was there ever such a confounded take-in?"
"Well, I really don't know," said Mr. Chillingworth; "but it seems to me that he must have gone out of that door that was behind him: I begin, do you know, admiral, to wish--"
"What?"
"That we had never come here at all; and I think the sooner we get out of it the better."
"Yes; but I am not going to be hoaxed and humbugged in this way. I will have satisfaction, but not with those confounded scythes and things he talks about in the dark room. Give me broad daylight and no favour; yardarm and yardarm; broadside and broadside; hand-grenades and marling-spikes."
"Well, but that's what he won't do. Now, admiral, listen to me."
"Well, go on; what next?"
"Come away at once."
"Oh, you said that before."
"Yes; but I'm going to say something else. Look round you. Don't you think this a large, scientific-looking room?"
"What of that?"
"Why, what if suppose it was to become as dark as the grave, and Varney was to enter with his scythe, that he talks of, and begin mowing about our legs."
"The devil! Come along!"
The door at which they entered was at this moment opened, and the old woman made her appearance.
"Please, sir," she said, "here's a Mr. Mortimer," in a loud voice. "Oh, Sir Francis ain't here! Where's he gone, gentlemen?"
"To the devil!" said the admiral. "Who may Mr. Mortimer be?"
There walked past the woman a stout, portly-looking man, well dressed, but with a very odd look upon his face, in consequence of an obliquity of vision, which prevented the possibility of knowing which way he was looking.