And here let the curtain drop on the melancholy scene, while we follow the fortunes of black valise No. 2.

* * * * *

CHAPTER III.

When the train stopped at Camden, four gentlemen got off, and walked, arm-in-arm, rapidly and silently, up one of the by-streets, and struck off into a foot-path leading to a secluded grove outside the town.  Of the first two, one was our military friend in a blue coat, apparently the leader of the party.  Of the second two, one was a smiling, rosy little man, carrying a black valise.  Their respective companions walked with hasty, irregular strides, were abstracted, and—­apparently ill at ease.

The party stopped.

‘This is the place,’ said Captain Jones.

‘Yes,’ said Doctor Smith.

The Captain and the Doctor conferred together.  The other two studiously kept apart.

‘Very well.  I’ll measure the ground, and do you place your man.’

It was done.

‘Now for the pistols,’ whispered the Captain to his fellow-second.

‘They are all ready, in the valise,’ replied the Doctor.

The principals were placed, ten paces apart, and wearing that decidedly uncomfortable air a man has who is in momentary expectation of being shot.

‘You will fire, gentlemen, simultaneously, when I give the word,’ said the Captain.  Then, in an undertone, to the Doctor, ‘Quick, the pistols.’

The Doctor, stooping over and fumbling at the valise, appeared to find something that surprised him.

‘Why, what the devil—­’

‘What’s the matter?’ asked the Captain, striding up.  ’Can’t you find the caps?’

‘Deuce a pistol or cap, but this!’

He held up—­a lady’s night-cap!

’Look here—­and here—­and here!’—­holding up successively a hair-brush, a long, white night-gown, a cologne-bottle, and a comb.

They were greeted with a long whistle by the Captain, and a blank stare by the two principals.

‘Confound the luck!’ ejaculated the Captain; ’if we haven’t made a mistake, and brought the wrong valise!’

The principals looked at the seconds.  The seconds looked at the principals.  Nobody volunteered a suggestion.  At last the Doctor inquired,

‘Well, what’s to be done?’

‘D——­d unlucky!’ again ejaculated the Captain.  ‘The duel can’t go on.’

‘Evidently not,’ responded the Doctor, ’unless they brain each other with the hair-brush, or take a pop at each other with the cologne-bottle.’

‘You are quite sure there are no pistols in the valise?’ said one of the principals, with suppressed eagerness, and drawing a long breath of evident relief.

‘We might go over to the city and get pistols,’ proposed the Captain.

‘And by that time it will he dark,’ said the Doctor.

‘D——­d unlucky,’ said the Captain again.