“That’s all very well, Gascoigne; but suppose the purse you picked up to be mine, then I have a right to it, although you found it; he is my bird by right, and not yours.”

“But I have another observation to make, which is very important: he is a blood relation of Agnes, and if his blood is on your hands, however much he may deserve it, depend upon it, it will be raised as an obstacle to your union; think of that.”

Jack paused in thought.

“And let me induce you by another remark—you will confer on me a most particular favour.”

“It will be the greatest I ever could,” replied Jack, “and you ought to be eternally indebted to me.”

“I trust to make him eternally indebted to me,” replied Gascoigne.

Sailors, if going into action, always begin to reckon what their share of the prize-money may be, before a shot is fired—our two midshipmen appear in this instance to be doing the same.

The point having been conceded to Gascoigne, Jack went to the inn where Don Silvio had mentioned that he had taken up his quarters, and sending up his card, followed the waiter upstairs. The waiter opened the door, and presented the card.

“Very well,” replied Don Silvio, “you can go down and show him up.”

Jack, hearing these words, did not wait, but walked in, where he found Don Silvio very busy removing a hone upon which he had been whetting a sharp double-edged stiletto. The Sicilian walked up to him, offering his hand with apparent cordiality; but Jack with a look of defiance said, “Don Silvio, we know you; my object now is to demand, on the part of my friend, the satisfaction which you do not deserve, but which our indignation at your second attempt upon Don Rebiera induces us to offer; for if you escape from him, you will have to do with me. On the whole, Don Silvio, you may think yourself fortunate, for it is better to die by the hands of a gentleman than by the gibbet.”

Don Silvio turned deadly pale—his hand sought his stiletto in his bosom, but it was remaining on the table; at last he replied, “Be it so—I will meet you when and where you please, in an hour from this.”

Jack mentioned the place of meeting, and then walked out of the room. He and Gascoigne then hastened to the quarters of an officer they were intimate with, and having provided themselves with the necessary firearms, were at the spot before the time. They waited for him till the exact time, yet no Don Silvio made his appearance.

“He’s off,” observed Gascoigne; “the villain has escaped us.”

Half an hour over the time had passed, and still there was no sign of Gascoigne’s antagonist, but one of the governor’s aides-de-camp was seen walking up to them.

“Here’s Atkins,” observed Jack; “that’s unlucky, but he won’t interfere.”

“Gentlemen,” said Atkins, taking off his hat with much solemnity, “the governor particularly wishes to speak to you both.”

“We can’t come just now—we’ll be there in half an hour.”

“You must be there in three minutes, both of you. Excuse me, my orders are positive—and to see them duly executed I have a corporal and a file of men behind that wall—of course, if you walk with me quietly there will be no occasion to send for their assistance.”