Bright Blade Leaps From Rusty Scabbard
pocket a card and flung it on Wharton's desk. After which he stepped back and made a formal bow.
Wharton looked at the card. Bewilderment almost chased the anger from his face.
"Eh," he said, "what's this?"
"My card, sir! A friend will wait on you tomorrow!"
"Tomorrow? A friend? What for?"
Cleggett folded his arms and regarded the managing editor with a touch of the supercilious in his manner.
"If you were a gentleman," he said, "you would have no difficulty in understanding these things. I have just done you the honor of challenging you to a duel."
Mr. Wharton's mouth opened as if he were about to explode in a roar of incredulous laughter. But meeting Cleggett's eyes, which were, indeed, sparkling with a most remarkable light, his jaw dropped, and he turned slightly pale. He rose from his chair and put the desk between himself and Cleggett, picking up as he did so a long pair of shears.
"Put down the scissors," said Cleggett, with a
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