the wall, for it was the man's one act of charity in all my knowledge of him. Instead of that, I stood looking at it in my hand and laughed out bitterly, as I realised his mistake; then went to the ramparts, and flung it far into the air like blood money. The night was falling; through an embrasure and across the gardened valley I saw the lamplighters hasting along Princes Street with ladder and lamp, and looked on moodily. As I was so standing a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and I turned about. It was Major Chevenix, dressed for the evening, and his neckcloth really admirably folded. I never denied the man could dress.
"Ah!" said he, "I thought it was you, Champdivers. So he's gone?"
I nodded.
"Come, come," said he, "you must cheer up. Of course it's very distressing, very painful and all that. But do you know, it ain't such a bad thing either for you or me? What with his death and your visit to him I am entirely reassured."
So I was to owe my life to Goguelat at every point.
"I had rather not discuss it," said I.
"Well," said he, "one word more, and I'll agree to bury the subject. What did you fight about?"
"Oh, what do men ever fight about?" I cried.
"A lady?" said he.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Deuce you did!" said he. "I should scarce have thought it of him."
And at this my ill-humour broke fairly out in words.
"He!" I cried. "He never dared to address her—only to look at her and vomit his vile insults! She may have given him sixpence: if she did, it may take him to heaven yet!"
