Miss Hathaway, starts off through the garden in the direction indicated by Van Zandt's outstretched arm.
While all this has taken place Ralph Felton has been leaning in the doorway at the front of the cafe. He looks up when Sanchez, the besotted sabaltern, comes in from his encounter with the American girl, and signals to him.
"Sanchez, I have a little affair of honor to settle within the hour, he says. "If I do not return, you are second in command. You understand?"
"Is it 'a la mort'?" inquires Sanchez.
Felton nods and turns away, and Sanchez goes back into the cafe in season to hear the last words of the warning extended to Van Zandt by the soldier with the scar.
Felton lights another cigarette and awaits indifferently the appearance of his implacable foe.
"I am ready, sir," says a stern voice at his elbow.
"And I have been ready for some minutes. Come." And Felton leads the way across the road and into a path to the woods.
The soldier with the scar walks out into the dooryard and watches the disappearing figures. "That duel must not take place," he says. "But how on earth am I to prevent it? Hello! What's this?"
His attention is attracted by an ejaculation within the cafe. Two men are whispering by the window next the entrance.
"What deviltry is this?" he scowls, bending his head. And as he listens the scowl deepens on his face, and his fingers clutch at his pistol stock. "By heavens! I must prevent that duel now," he mutters.
Simultaneous with a command given to the half-intoxicated Sanchez, he of the scar hears the sound of a shot over in the woods.
"Treachery!" he exclaims, and bounds away in the direction of the report.
<tb stars>
