THE UNSPEAKABLE GENTLEMAN
"Perhaps you would prefer to sit," said my father politely. "I have known people who find it steadies them to fire across the table while seated in a chair, Your attention, then, and I will tell you the game. On the table are three pistols. One of them is loaded. The question is—which? They are all made by the same smith. And yet one is different. We shall find out which it is in a few minutes. Shuffle the cards, Lawton. You and Jason shall draw. The low number selects the first pistol, and is first to fire, and then the next. I shall take the last pistol, and we shall stand across the table, you and Jason where you are, while I stand over here. Brutus, give the cards to Mr. Lawton."
My father smiled and bowed. From his manner it might have been some treat he was proposing, some pleasant bit of sport that all knew ended in hilarity. Still smiling, he glanced from one to the other, and then towards Mademoiselle and me, as though seeking our approbation. Even with his bandaged arm and weather stained clothes, he carried himself with a gaity and grace.
"Always trust in chance, my son," he said.
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