I have told you one motive, but there is another, and a little condition besides, Malcolm." The brandy Sir George had been drinking had sent the devil to his brain.
"What is the condition ?" I asked, overjoyed to hear that there was one.
The old man leaned toward me and a fierce blackness overclouded his face.
"I am told, Malcolm, that you have few equals in swordsmanship, and that the duello is not new to you.

Is it true ?" "I believe I may say it is true," I answered.

"I have fought successfully with some of the most noted duellists of--" "Enough, enough! Now, this is the condition, Malcolm,--a welcome one to you, I am sure; a welcome one to any brave man." His eyes gleamed with fire and hatred.

"Quarrel with Rutland and his son and kill both of them." I felt like recoiling from the old fiend.

I had often quarrelled and fought, but, thank God, never in cold blood and with deliberate intent to do murder.
"Then Dorothy and all I possess shall be yours," said Sir George.