In fact, it was a reckless compound conceived in a cynical and angry spirit by Sturk, and as the fireworker afterwards declared, while expressing in excited language his wonder how Puddock (for he never suspected Sturk's elixir) had contrived to compound such a poison--'The torture was such, my dear Madam, as fairly thranslated me into the purlieus of the other world.' Nutter had already put off his coat and waistcoat, and appeared in a neat little black lutestring vest, with sleeves to it, which the elder officers of the R.I.A.remembered well in by-gone fencing matches.
'Tis a most _miserable_ situation,' said Puddock, in extreme distress.
'Never mind,' groaned O'Flaherty, grimly taking off his coat; 'you'll have _two_ corpses to carry home with you; don't you show the laste taste iv unaisiness, an' I'll not disgrace you, _if_ I'm spared to see it out.' And now preliminaries were quite adjusted; and Nutter, light and wiry, a good swordsman, though not young, stepped out with his vicious weapon in hand, and his eyes looking white and stony out of his dark face.

A word or two to his armour-bearer, and a rapid gesture, right and left, and that magnificent squire spoke low to two or three of the surrounding officers, who forthwith bestirred themselves to keep back the crowd, and as it were to keep the ring unbroken.

O'Flaherty took his sword, got his hand well into the hilt, poised the blade, shook himself up as it were, and made a feint or two and a parry in the air, and so began to advance, like Goliath, towards little Nutter.
'Now, Puddock, back him up--encourage your man,' said Devereux, who took a perverse pleasure in joking; 'tell him to flay the lump, splat him, divide him, and cut him in two pieces----.
It was a custom of the corps to quiz Puddock about his cookery; but Puddock, I suppose, did not hear his last night's 'receipt' quoted, and he kept his eye upon his man, who had now got nearly within fencing distance of his adversary.

But at this critical moment, O'Flaherty, much to Puddock's disgust, suddenly stopped, and got into the old stooping posture, making an appalling grimace in what looked like an endeavour to swallow, not only his under lip, but his chin also.

Uttering a quivering, groan, he continued to stoop nearer to the earth, on which he finally actually sat down and hugged his knees close to his chest, holding his breath all the time till he was perfectly purple, and rocking himself this way and that.
The whole procedure was a mystery to everybody except the guilty Puddock, who changed colour, and in manifest perturbation, skipped to his side.
'Bleth me--bleth me--my dear O'Flaherty, he'th very ill--where ith the pain ?' 'Is it "farced pain," Puddock, or "gammon pain ?"' asked Devereux, with much concern.
Puddock's plump panic-stricken little face, and staring eye-balls, were approached close to the writhing features of his redoubted principal--as I think I have seen honest Sancho Panza's, in one of Tony Johannot's sketches, to that of the prostrate Knight of the Rueful Countenance.
'I wish to Heaven I had thwallowed it myself--it'th dreadful--what ith to be--are you eathier--I _think_ you're eathier.' I don't think O'Flaherty heard him.