before listened to. Come, Maurice, let us go to the club rooms, we shall find better entertainment there." And the two men rose from their seats and moved towards the door.

Before they reached it the voice of the President stopped them, and in sharp, incisive tones called them to order.

"Such words," he said, "are against the rules of the society and must be withdrawn, or the laws which govern the Association will be enforced and the speaker's name struck off the list of membership."

John Landauer, the man who had uttered the offensive words, turned on hearing the President's mandate. With flashing eyes he glanced in the direction of Osterberg.

"My words may have been untimely as uttered in this room, and for that I apologize; but my opinion of the last speaker, friend Osterberg, remains the same, and what I am not allowed to express here I shall take the earliest opportunity of doing elsewhere."

He turned, and, followed by the youth he had addressed as Maurice, left the room.

An ominous murmur went round the room as the door closed behind them, and an air of suppressed resentment pervaded the place. One and all felt that an insult had been offered to Osterberg, an insult which they knew, since he was a theological student, he would be unable to respond to in the customary manner. However, the expression of the young student's face, usually so kindly, indicated that the altercation had not yet ended.

As soon as the debate was over, a general adjournment to the club followed. Osterberg was one of the first to reach it.

He found Landauer playing billiards with his companion Maurice. Stepping up to him, he eyed him sternly from head to foot.

"Thank you, Landauer, for your opinion of my ability," he said, evidently with difficulty repressing a desire to indulge in personal violence, "it was a plucky remark of yours. Had I been studying for other than the ministry, you would not have dared to give it utterance. Bah! I appreciate a man, but you are a coward!"

Landauer turned fiercely on the speaker.

"Coward? It is not I who am the coward! I do not take shelter under the cloak of the ministry, which forbids duels. You are the coward," he went on, stepping towards him and snatching his cap from his head, "and I challenge you to prove my words false!"

As he spoke he flung the cap on the ground at Osterberg's feet, and defiantly awaited the outcome of his action. The challenge was a customary one amongst the students. The snatching Osterberg's cap from his head was the greatest insult Landauer could have offered him, and the bystanders wondered how it would be received.

For a moment the young theological student stood as if in doubt. His lips twitched with indignation. There was no cowardice in his nature, but he knew the rigorous laws which governed his studies. On the one hand, if he refused to accept the challenge, the stigma of cowardice would stick to him all his life, and on the other, he would have to give up his profession if he should have a scar inflicted under such circumstances. Human nature conquered, and he was about to return insult for insult, when a firm, strong hand was laid on his shoulder.

"One moment," said a voice, in passionless even tones, "I have something to say to our friend here."

The speaker calmly strode up to the bullying Landauer, and, with his open hand, struck him across the face.

"You wish to quarrel? Very well, now is your opportunity. You have insulted not only our friend Osterberg, but the Debating Society of which I am a member. These things cannot go unnoticed. Apparently you selected Osterberg as a butt for your insults, knowing that, from the nature of his studies, he could not retaliate in the usual manner; but such cowardly bullying shall not be passed over, you shall account to me for your caddish behaviour."

The challenge was so startlingly sudden, that Landauer had no answer ready to give, but with rage and mortification expressed in every feature he fumbled in his pocket for a card. At last he drew one out, and with all the bombast he could summon on the spur of the moment, he scribbled the name of a friend upon it, and threw it on the table.

"You shall hear from me to-morrow," he cried, between his teeth.

His opponent smiled as he picked the card up; then, with the same deliberation, he replaced it with one of his own.

"Good," he said. "This is my affair now, and——"

"I'll give you a lesson, Mr Helmar, that you won't have time to forget." And Landauer, flinging his billiard cue on the table, strode from the room.

"Well done, Helmar!" "Good luck to you!" and such-like exclamations of approval filled the room as the door closed behind Landauer. Some of the students, however, blamed Helmar for what they termed his foolhardiness in interfering. But the majority applauded his action, and wished him every success.

Landauer was well known to be an expert swordsman, and had been victorious in several duels. Helmar, on the other hand, was entirely unknown in the use of the weapon, and was naturally pitied by his comrades. But the students admired bravery, especially when in a good cause. In this case they unanimously condemned Landauer's conduct in selecting Osterberg for the object of his assault.

"The fellow's a bully, whatever else he is, and no doubt thought his insult would go unchallenged. But there, the thing's done now, and I do not regret my action in the least. He must get satisfaction from me, if he wants it."

George Helmar was a quiet youth, of studious habits. A young man of seventeen, he had the reputation of being a hard worker, and had none of the quarrelsome spirit such as his adversary possessed. The thin, determined face, with its square jaw and keen grey eyes, the great loose shoulders and powerfully developed limbs might have told more careful observers than his fellow-students that underneath that calm exterior a latent power existed, which Landauer had best not underrate.

He had been brought up in the country, where his father practised medicine. There all his leisure had been spent in manly sports, riding, running, shooting, fencing; all these things he had gone in for as a boy, with the result that the town-bred Landauer, though an expert swordsman, was not, as regards physical training, to be compared with him.

Helmar hoped at some future date to succeed his father in his practice, and to that end had worked hard, using, as a matter of fact, the University recreation rooms and grounds very little. It was, therefore, not strange that his companions should doubt his ability to meet his adversary with any chance of success.

It is often small things that alter the course of a man's life, and so it was with Helmar. What he thought to be but a mere incident in his career turned out to be the cross-roads of his existence.

During the time which elapsed before the duel, he pursued his studies in the same indomitable fashion, considering but little of his chances, assuring himself only of the justness of his cause.

His friend Osterberg, however, was greatly concerned, and passed many sleepless nights weighing the possibilities of what might happen. Although he was to become a clergyman, and duelling was forbidden him, he nevertheless had plenty of fight in him, and many times wished that he could relieve his friend of the self-imposed risk he was taking on his behalf.

Landauer, on the other hand, had too much of the vanity of the bully to cause him any uneasiness. He was confident of his own superiority over Helmar, and discussed his inevitable success wherever opportunity arose.

The day at last arrived, and early in the