"He was wounded, and in my opinion unfit to fight. I protested against his doing so, as you may have heard; but he insisted, and left me no option."
He examined all the arrangements and gymnastic apparatus with obvious interest, making many comments to show his appreciation of everything.
"This is a novel thing for Sofia," he said, after a while. "And a devilish shrewd device to draw in the young bloods of the place. They will make a hero of you, Count. A splendid thought, and one that shows what an acquisition you will be to us. A pistol range, too; magnificent! May I try a shot or two?" He spoke with assumed indifference, but I caught a glance which told me he wished to surprise me with a display of his skill in shooting.
"By all means," I answered readily, not at all unwilling to see what he could do, and to show him also that I knew how to handle a pistol pretty well.
He was a good shot, and took a pride in his work, laughing boastfully when he sent his bullet three times in succession into the bull's-eye of the small target.
"I'm strange to the pistol, of course; but that's not bad for a first attempt, eh? I'm a bit out of practice, too, for I haven't a place like this to keep my hand in." There was a sneer at me in this.
"Come to the further mark," I said, putting him half a dozen paces to the rear. "You shoot well."
He tried from the further mark and hit the target each time, but only once got on to the bull's-eye.
"It's a long distance, and the light's rather bad. Do you shoot much?"
"Well, a little. I have only had two or three shots here;" and I picked up a revolver carelessly. "I am sorry you found the light bad." I turned, then levelled
