She knew that this jesting choice would have serious
import. For some seconds the three remained stock still. She glanced
flatteringly from one man to the other. Which should she choose? Her
heart beat wildly. Choose one or the other she must. Outside that room
no man lived whom she would marry. Each second strained the situation
further. At last her spirit rose in feminine revolt against the trap
which Dick had set for her, and, with a malicious look, she threw the
handkerchief at Austin's feet. He picked it up and gallantly put it
to his lips.
"In the story," exclaimed Viviette, "she threw it to Lord Estcombe.
Austin is Lord Estcombe."
"And I'm Dick Ware," cried Dick, in a strangled voice. "Wild Dick Ware.
And this is what he did. He dragged the girl out of the room first."
He took Viviette by the arm and roughly thrust her past the screen.
"Then--that case was on the table. And without a word Wild Dick Ware
comes up to Lord Estcombe so--and says, 'Choose.'"
He gripped the pistols by the barrels, crossed them, and presented the
butts to Austin.
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