Wizard Will, the Wonder Worker

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER IV.--THE MEETING.

  Until the time for him to seek some means of reaching the spot, selectedfor the meeting, that he intended should be fatal to one of them, KentLomax walked the streets of the city, brooding deeply over his sorrows,and his determination to avenge Ruby, whom he looked upon with pityrather than anger, and her mother, whose death had been brought on bythe act of Schuyler Cluett.

  At daylight he sought a livery stable, and asked for a horse to ride outto the rendezvous.

  "You can get a horse, sir, but you are unknown to us, and we must ask adeposit of his value," said the man.

  "Ah! that is it, you fear I am a horse-thief; well, hitch a carriage forme and send a driver, one who knows how to reach this place," and hegave the directions where he wished to go.

  Soon after he sprang into the vehicle and was driven away at a rapidpace, and in an hour's time was set down at a lonely spot on theriverbank.

  Up the stream some distance he saw another vehicle draw up, and out ofit sprang Schuyler Cluett and Rayford, and he walked hastily towardthem.

  "I am glad to see that you are not a coward," said Kent Lomax,addressing Schuyler Cluett.

  "You are all wrong in this, Lomax, much as appearances are against me,"said Cluett.

  "I know I am right, for I have not had my eyes shut the past two months.

  "Are you ready?"

  "I am."

  "I have brought a pair of weapons belonging to Mr. Cluett, sir, and youcan take your choice," said Rayford, opened a box in which were a pairof handsome revolvers.

  "I have a weapon, sir."

  "It is best that they be alike."

  "Very well, I will take one of these."

  "Take your choice."

  Kent Lomax selected one without an instant of hesitation, and said:

  "This will do."

  Rayford took the revolver and carefully loaded it, and then took up theother and did likewise.

  Then he paced off ten paces, gave the men the choice of positions bytossing up a dollar, and Kent Lomax won.

  Both took their positions, Schuyler Cluett with a quiet smile ofconfidence upon his face, and Kent Lomax calm, cold, but haggard, sternand determined.

  The sun was now up, gilding the tree-tops and causing the dew to sparklelike diamonds upon the grass.

  It was a pretty scene, and yet one that had been selected to bedesecrated by a tragedy.

  Each man took his position, revolver in hand, and standing to one side,Rayford said:

  "Gentlemen, I am to give the word as follows:

  "One, two, three, fire!

  "Between the words _three_ and _fire_, you are to pull trigger, and youcan keep firing until one or the other falls, or you empty your weapons.

  "Now, are you ready?"

  Both nodded in the affirmative, and then in a loud voice came the fatalwords:

  "_One! two! three--_"

  There was no need of uttering the word fire, for the revolver of eachflashed at three.

  And the result?

  Schuyler Cluett staggered backward, his hand to his head, while KentLomax dropped as though a bullet had pierced his brain.

  "Shot through the heart," said Rayford coolly, and then turning to hisfriend he added:

  "I think that should cancel my indebtedness to you, Schuyler."

  "What?"

  "I put a ball of putty, wrapped with tin-foil, in his pistol, and evenwith it he left his mark in the dead centre of your forehead, for it isbruised; but had it been lead, you would have been a dead man."

  "Great Heavens! did you do _that_?" asked Schuyler Cluett.

  "I did."

  "Rayford, I know not what to say; but as you have saved my life, I willcall the debt square between us; but see, he is not dead, and I will puthim in his carriage and send him to a hospital, for we must look to ourown safety now."

  This was done; the body of the wounded, unconscious man was placed inthe carriage that had brought him out, and the driver ordered to takehim to a hospital.

  Then the two friends entered their own carriage, and were driven, byanother road, rapidly back to the city.

  The next morning the following notice of the affair appeared in themorning papers:

  "A MYSTERIOUS DUEL.

  "At dawn yesterday morning a young gentleman evidently from the country, judging from his dress and appearance, went to Nailor's livery stable and sought to hire a saddle-horse for a few hours; but, upon the price of the animal being demanded, as he was an utter stranger to the foreman, he called for a carriage and driver, and ordered the latter to drive him to a spot on the Schuylkill river, between the Laurel Hill Cemetery and the Wissahickon creek, and to lose no time in getting there.

  "Upon reaching the spot he left the vehicle, just as another carriage drove up in the distance, and from it alighted two gentlemen.

  "There the stranger walked on and met them, reports his driver, and the three conversed together for a moment; then two of them threw off their overcoats, while the third paced off a certain distance and, after loading two weapons taken from a case, handed them to the duelists.

  "Word was then given, the driver supposes--for he was too far off to hear--and the pistols flashed together, one man staggering, as though wounded, the other falling as though dead.

  "The driver was then called, and the one who lay prostrate was raised and placed in the vehicle which was ordered to drive with all speed to the Hospital, the others entering the other carriage and driving rapidly off in another direction.

  "Upon being questioned by our reporter, the driver of the stranger said that the other duelist was a young society man about town, but he did not, or pretended not to know his name.

  "He said the stranger's bullet had wounded him in the head, as he wore a handkerchief about it, but there was no blood-stain visible.

  "The comrade of the alleged society-man was also a young gentleman of this city, but whom the driver pretended not to know.

  "Going to the Hospital our reporter discovered that the stranger was there.

  "He had a watch, chain, seal-ring, and sleeve buttons all of good value, and a pocket book containing several hundred dollars in bank-bills, but not a slip of paper, or anything to solve his identity.

  "He was shot just over the heart, and the surgeons feared to probe the wound, which they say will doubtless prove fatal though there is the slightest chance for his recovery, as he possesses a fine physique and the appearance of an iron constitution.

  "Reporters and detectives are busy trying to solve the mystery, and our readers will be informed if aught is discovered regarding this strange affair."