“Yes,” Starbuck said. “And now we’re all going to walk out of here and go find your Matthew. And if anyone speaks to us, ma’am, then I beg you to keep silent. Do you promise to do that for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s go, shall we?” Starbuck handed Martha her thin cloak, collected his papers, paused to make certain no one was outside the door, then ushered Lucifer and Martha through the hall and across the verandah. It promised to be a hot, sunlit day. Starbuck hurried toward the nearest huts, hoping to make good his escape without being seen, but then a voice shouted at him from the house. “Potter!”

Martha uttered an exclamation and Starbuck had to remind her of the promise to say nothing. “And stay here,” he went on, “both of you.” Then he turned and walked back toward the house.

It was Captain Dennison who had called and who now jumped down the verandah steps. The captain looked as if he had just risen from his bed, for he was in his shirtsleeves and was pulling bright red suspenders over his shoulders as he hurried toward Starbuck. “I want you, Potter,” he called.

“Looks like you found me,” Starbuck said as he confronted the angry captain.

“You call me ‘sir.’” Dennison was standing close to Starbuck now and the smell of the ointment the captain had smeared on his diseased face was almost overpowering. It was a peculiarly sour smell, not kerosene, and suddenly Starbuck placed it, and the memory of his time in the Richmond prison came flooding back in a wave of nausea. “You call me ‘sir’!” Dennison said again, thrusting a finger hard into Starbuck’s chest.

“Yes, sir.”

Dennison grimaced. “You threatened me last night, Potter.”

“Did I, sir?”

“Yes you damn well did. So either you come into the house, Potter, right now and apologize in front of the other officers, or else you face the consequences.”

Starbuck pretended to consider the alternatives, then shrugged. “Guess I’ll take the consequences, Captain, sir.”

Dennison gave a grim smile. “You are a miserable fool, Potter, a fool. Very well. Do you know Bloody Run?”

“I can find it, sir.”

“You find it at six o’clock tonight, Potter, and if you have trouble just ask anyone where the Richmond dueling grounds are. They’re by the Bloody Run under the Chimborazo Hill at the other end of the city. Six o’ clock. Bring a second if you can find anyone stupid enough to support you. Colonel Holborrow will be my second. And one other thing, Potter.”

“Sir?”

“Try and be sober. I don’t relish killing a drunk.”

“Six o’ clock, sir, sober,” Starbuck said. “I look forward to it, sir. One thing, sir?”

Dennison turned back. “Yes?” He asked suspiciously.

“You issued the challenge, sir, so I get to choose weapons. Ain’t that the way it’s done?”

“So choose,” Dennison said carelessly.

“Swords,” Starbuck said instantly and with sufficient confidence to make Dennison blink with surprise. “Swords, Captain!” He called airily as he turned and walked away. The smell of the medicine had betrayed Dennison’s secret and Starbuck was suddenly looking forward to the day.