Keith's investigations proceeded until at last he felt justified in preferring before the Bar Association charges of irregular practice against James Ware, Bernard Black, and--to his great regret--Calhoun Bennett. He conceived he had enough evidence to convict these men legally, but he as yet shrank from asking for an indictment against them, preferring at first to try for their discipline before their fellow lawyers. If the Bar Association failed, however, he had every intention of pressing the matter in the courts.

Almost immediately after the filing of the complaint he was waited on in his office by a man only slightly known to him, Major Marmaduke Miles. The major's occupation in life was obscure. He was a red-faced, tightly buttoned, full-jowled, choleric Southerner of the ultra-punctilious brand, always well dressed in quaint and rather old-fashioned garments, with charming manners, and the reminiscence of good looks lost in a florid and apoplectic habit. This person entered Keith's office, greeted him formally, declined a chair. Standing very erect before Keith's desk, his beaver hat poised on his left forearm, he said:

"I am requested, suh, to enquiah of yo' the name of a friend with whom I can confer."

"If that means a challenge, Major, I must first ask the name of your principal," returned Keith.

"I am actin' fo' Mr. Calhoun Bennett, suh," stated the major.

"Tell Cal Bennett I will not fight him," said Keith quietly.

The major was plainly flabbergasted, and for a moment puffed his red cheeks in and out rapidly.

"You mean to tell me, suh, that yo' refuse the satisfaction due a gentleman after affrontin' him?"

"I won't fight Cal Bennett," repeated Keith patiently.

The major turned even redder, and swelled so visibly that Keith, in spite of his sad realization of the gravity of the affair, caught himself guiltily in a boyish anticipation that some of the major's strained buttons would pop.

"I shall so repo't to my principal, suh. But I may add, suh, that in my opinion, suh, yo' are conductin' yo'self in a manner unbecomin' to a gentleman; and othuh gentlemen will say so, suh! They may go even farthah and stigmatize yo' conduct as cowardly, suh! And it might even be that I, suh, would agree with that expression, suh!"

The major glowered. Keith smiled wearily. It did not to him at the moment that this would be so great a calamity.

"I am sorry to have forfeited your good opinion, Major," he contented himself with saying.

The major marched straight back to the Monumental, where Bennett and a number of friends were awaiting the result of his mission. The major's angry passions had been rising, every foot of the way.

"He won't fight, suh!" he bellowed, slamming his cane across the table. "He won't fight! And I stigmatized him to his face as a white-livered hound!"

Calhoun Bennett sank back pale, and speechless. His companions deluged him with advice.

"Horsewhip the craven publicly." "Warn him to go heeled, and then force the issue!" "Shoot him down like the dog he is!"

But the major's mighty bellow dominated everything.

"I claim the privilege!" he roared. "Egad, I _demand_ the privilege! It is my right! I am insulted by such a rebuff! Now that I have acquitted myself of Cal's errand, I will call him out myself. Ain't that right, Cal? I'll make the hound fight!"

The old major looked redder and fiercer than ever. There could be no doubt that he would make any one fight, once he started out to do so, and that he would carry the matter through. He was brave enough.

But little Jimmy Ware, who had been doing some thinking, here spoke up. It seemed to him a good chance to get a reputation without any risk. Since James King of William had uncompromisingly refused to fight duels, his example had been followed. A strong party of those having conscientious scruples against the practice had come into being. Keith's refusal to fight Bennett, to Ware's mind, indicated that he belonged to this class. It looked safe.

"Pardon me, Major," he broke in suavely; "but each in turn. I claim the right. Cal had first chance because he had personally warned the man of the consequences. But I am equally accused. You must admit my prior claim."

The major came off the boil. Puffing his red cheeks in and out he considered.

"Yo're right, suh," he conceded reluctantly.

After considerable persuasion, and some flattery as to his familiarity with the niceties of the Code, the major consented to bear Jimmy's defiance. He entered Keith's office again, stiffer than a ramrod. Keith smiled at him.

"There's no use, Major, I won't fight Cal Bennett," he greeted his visitor.

"I am the bearer of a challenge from Mistah James Ware," he announced.

"What!" yelled Keith, so suddenly and violently that Major Miles recoiled a step.

"From Mistah James Ware," he repeated.

Keith laughed savagely.

"Oh, I'll fight him," he growled; "gladly; any time he wants it."

The major's face lit up.

"If you'll name yo' friend, suh," he suggested.

"Friend? Friend? What for? I'm capable of arranging this. I haven't time to hunt up a friend."

"It's customary," objected the major.

"Look here," Keith swept on, "I'm the challenged party and I have the say- so, haven't I?"

"Yo' can name the weapons," conceded Major Marmaduke Miles.

"All right, we'll call this revolvers, navy revolvers--biggest there are, whatever that is. And close up. None of your half-mile shooting."

"Ten yards," suggested Major Miles with unholy joy.

"And right away--this afternoon," went on Keith. "If that little runt wants trouble, egad he's going to have all his little skin will hold."

But the major would not have this. It was not done. He waived conducting his negotiations through a second, but that was as far as his conventional soul would go. He held out for three o'clock the following afternoon.

"And I wish to apologize, Mistah Keith," he said, on parting, "fo' my ill- considered words of a short time ago. I misunderstood yo' reasons fo' refusin' to fight Mistah............