Dennis Wheatley - Vendetta in Spain

'No!' the Conde cut him short. 'One expects a certain frailty in women, and in view of the relations between Gulia and myself I do not blame her overmuch. But men are made of sterner stuff. For you there can be no excuse, and with God's help I hope to punish you for your despicable behaviour.'

'Very well, then. We load our pistols and stand back to back. I will ask you if you are ready. When you reply "Yes", I shall then say the one word, "March". On that we shall both walk ten paces away from one another then turn about face to face. Either of us may fire instantly upon turning, or hold his fire to take more careful aim. Ten paces, you understand. And may I suggest that when you take your stance to fire you should stand sideways, so that your body presents a minimum width of target to me.'

'Thank you. I appreciate the chivalry you display in making that suggestion.'

Having loaded his pistol with the single bullet that the duelling weapon held, de Richleau looked out over the bay. A sick nostalgia seized him as he thought of the many happy hours he had spent there with Gulia. Whatever might be the outcome of the duel he knew that never again would they swim there together or sit side by side talking and laughing on these golden sands. It had been for them an earthly paradise, and now her husband had come back, like an avenging angel with a flaming sword, to drive him out of it for ever.

With a sharp word de Cordoba recalled him to the present. They took up their positions back to back. 'Are you ready?' asked the Duke. 'Yes,' replied the Conde. 'March,' cried de Richleau, and in swift strides each covered his ten paces.

The Duke knew that if de Cordoba took a snap shot at him immediately upon turning, only by an extraordinary fluke could the bullet fail to go wide. Therefore, to have any hope of hitting him at all, the Conde must give at least ten seconds to taking aim. He, on the other hand, was a crack shot. Two seconds would be ample for him to draw a bead on his opponent and fire. In consequence, when walking down to the beach, he had decided to put a quick end to the matter by winging the Conde in his pistol arm before he had a chance to discharge his weapon.

Yet now, at the last moment, he changed his mind. It was he who had wronged the Conde, unwittingly it was true, but that did not alter the fact. And there was always the chance that if he took a snap shot the bullet, instead of lodging in the Conde's arm or shoulder, might ride a trifle high, hit him in the neck, and kill him. When de Richleau recalled how de Cordoba had cared for him like a brother after Angela's death, and the way in which, after he had nearly died in Barcelona, he had been nursed back to health and strength in the villa, he felt that he could not bring himself to injure him, let alone take a chance that might rob him of his life.

Five seconds after the two men turned the Duke fired, but he had deliberately aimed high. The bullet passed a good foot above de Cordoba's head. No longer having anything to fear the Conde took careful aim before pressing the trigger of his pistol, but the bullet whistled harmlessly past his adversary.

The two men walked towards one another and de Richleau said, 'I have given you the opportunity you desired. I trust you are now satisfied.'

'Certainly not!' the Conde replied in a still bitter tone. 'And I shall not be until one of us is too seriously wounded to continue. Let us reload.'

With a resigned shrug the Duke again loaded his pistol. They followed the same procedure as before. Again de Richleau fired high, but this time de Cordpba's bullet tore a little strip of cloth from his coat low down near the thigh.

Grimly he walked back to prepare for the third round. Brave as he was, it required no little courage to stand still and be shot at, and small beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. Yet he felt that there was nothing he could do except pray that he would soon receive an injury which, without being too serious, would be sufficient to satisfy the Conde.

Again they loaded, stood back to back, then marched to their stations. But now, instead of making any pretence of aiming, the Duke turned the point of his pistol straight up and fired into the air.

As the bullet sailed heavenwards de Cordoba lowered his weapon and came striding towards him.

'How dare you?' he cried. 'How dare you? I see now the reason why you have twice missed me. It is because you are not trying. Is not the injury you have done me enough without adding this insult to it? The fact that you happen to be a soldier well practised in arms gives you no right to treat me with contempt as an antagonist.'

De Richleau sadly shook his head. 'Believe me, Conde, nothing was further from my thoughts. But after all the kindness you showed me in the past, should I happen to kill you I would never forgive myself. Even to injure you would be a shameful return for the support and comfort you gave me after my poor wife's death.'

It was no use. A temporary madness seemed to afflict the Conde, making him deaf to all reason.

'Shameful return,' he echoed furiously. 'Have you not made it already? You are one of the few men in whom I would have placed unlimited trust. It is not the seduction of Gulia that I desire to avenge, but your betrayal of my belief in you. I am determined that you shall either be carried from this bay with a wound that will long remain a reminder of your treachery, or that having put a bullet into a man who once had complete faith in you will permanently plague your conscience. Come! Reload; and take your punishment one way or the other.'

They were just about to place themselves back to back for the fourth time when a shout of 'Stop! Stop that! Stop!' reached them.

Turning towards the slope that ran up to the villa they saw a female figure running down through the pine wood towards them. Both recognized it instantly as that of the Infanta. Instinctively they stepped apart and waited as she hurried towards them.

Although only in her late forties Maria Alfonsine was a bulky woman, and now she looked even more so than usual, for she had no corsets on under the thick dressing-gown that was swathed about her. When she reached them her face was scarlet from her exertions, and wisps of her hair, which she had hastily done up in a bun, were floating untidily about her ears. But her high-nosed features displayed the habit of authority and her dark eyes flashed angrily, as she panted.

'Holy Mary be praised that neither of you is yet injured. There is to be no more of this. I forbid it.'

Made more furious than ever by her arrival on the scene, de Cordoba barked at her, 'Go back! Go back to the villa! Leave us this instant. You have no right to interfere.'

'I have every right,' she retorted. 'It is obvious that you have forced this duel upon the Senor Duke; and I know you to have done so under a misapprehension.'

De Cordoba gave a bitter laugh. 'Since I have a pair of eyes in my head that is impossible. The cause of our quarrel does not concern you; but you may rest assured that no man ever had better reason to call another out.'

'In that you are wrong,' the Infanta insisted. 'I have just come from Gulia, and she has told me how you took her by surprise by coming through her window.'

'So she has admitted her shame. I had hoped that everyone other than myself might be spared the knowledge of it. Since she has confessed to you how can you possibly suggest that I had no grounds for challenging this viper whom I believed to be my friend?'

'Gulia has confessed to more than taking him as a lover.'

'To what more could she confess?'

The Infanta waved an impatient hand. 'Be quiet, Jos6, and listen. An hour ago I was wakened by angry voices. There came the slamming of a door and footsteps past my room, then ten minutes later more footsteps. I felt that I must find out what was going on. I went to Gulia's room and found her sobbing her heart out. She told me of your unexpected return and that you had caught her in flagrante delicto with the Senor Duke. Then that twice, three years ago and again this summer, she had done her utmost to persuade him to become her lover. But he had proved adamant in rejecting her advances.'