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 My uncle leaned forward, and drew his hand across his lips, his eyes blank and staring.

"And if you get the pistol?" he demanded hoarsely.

"In that case," replied my father, "Your troubles will be over, Jason. Pray rest assured—I shall attend to that. And then, when that is finished Brutus shall bring two other pistols, and Lawton and I shall draw again."

Mr. Lawton grasped the cards uncertainly.

"You give us the first two choices?" he demanded.

"The host naturally is last," said my father. "One must always be polite."

"Then you're mad," said Mr. Lawton bluntly. "Come, Shelton, step outside, and we'll finish it on the lawn."

"And I should undoubtedly kill you," said my father. "Pray do not tempt me, Lawton."

"I tell you, you're mad," said Mr. Lawton.

"I have been told that once before today," said my father. "And still I am not sure. I have often pictured this little scene,