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134 Miss Mapp sighed, and bent her eyes on her chrysanthemums.

“Quite terrible!” she said. “And in our peaceful, tranquil Tilling!”

“Perhaps the duel has already taken place, and&#8203;—&#8203;and they’ve missed,” said the Padre. “They were both seen to return to their houses early this morning.”

“By whom?” asked Miss Mapp jealously. She had not heard that.

“By Hopkins,” said he. “Hopkins saw them both return.”

“I shouldn’t trust that man too much,” said Miss Mapp. “Hopkins may not be telling the truth. I have no great opinion of his moral standard.”

“Why is that?”

This was no time to discuss the nudity of Hopkins and Miss Mapp put the question aside.

“That does not matter now, dear Padre,” she said. “I only wish I thought the duel had taken place without accident. But Major Benjy’s&#8203;—&#8203;I mean Major Flint’s&#8203;—&#8203;portmanteau has not come back to his house. Of that I’m sure. What if they have sent it away to some place where they are unknown, full of pistols and things?”

“Possible&#8203;—&#8203;terribly possible,” said the Padre. “I wish I could see my duty clear. I should not hesitate to&#8203;—well, to do the best I could to induce them to abandon this murderous project. And what do you imagine was the root of the quarrel?”

“I couldn’t say, I’m sure,” said Miss Mapp. She bent her head over the chrysanthemums.

“Your distracting sex,” said he with a moment’s gallantry, “is usually the cause of quarrel. I’ve noticed that they both seemed to admire Miss Irene very much.”