"Yes, it would," cried the other, following him into the hall. "If you've the heart of a man it would be the very ticket for you. It's just this, my lad," he continued, rather lowering his voice, but not enough to prevent me from hearing every word he said, though the half-closed door stood between us: "I think you're an ill-used man—nay, now, don't flare up—I don't want to offend you: it's only my rough way of talking. I must speak right out you know, or else not at all;—and I'm come—stop now! let me explain—I'm come to offer you my services, for though Huntingdon is my friend, he's a devilish scamp as we all know, and I'll be your friend for the nonce. I know what it is you want, to make matters straight: it's just to exchange a shot with him, and then you'll feel yourself all right again; and if an accident happens—why, that'll be all right too, I dare say, to a desperate fellow like you.—Come now! give me your hand, and don't look so black upon it. Name time and place, and I'll manage the rest."
