"He waited there for his brother, determined to have it decided once and
for all. They quarreled bitterly. Both were young, both had bad tempers,
and each saw his side as the right of the matter--"
"Regular Ralestones, weren't they?" commented Val slyly.
"Undoubtedly," agreed Rupert. "Well, at last Richard started for the
house, his brother in pursuit.
"Then they fought, here in this very hall. And not with words this time,
but with the rapiers Richard had brought back from France. A slave named
Falesse, who had been the twins' childhood nurse, was the only witness
to the end of that duel. Richard lay face down across the hearth-stone
as she came screaming down the stairs."
Ricky was studying the gray stone.
"By rights," Val agreed with her unspoken thought, "there ought to be a
stain there. Unfortunately for romance, there isn't."
"Rick was standing by the door," Rupert continued. "When Falesse reached
his brother, he laughed unsteadily and half raised his sword in a
duelist's salute. Then he was gone. But there were two swords on the
floor. And that niche was empty.
"When he fled into the night storm with his brother's blood staining his
hands, Rick Ralestone took the Luck of his house with him.
"After almost a year of invalidism, Richard recovered. He never married
his American beauty. But in 1819 he took a wife, a young Creole lady
widowed by the Battle of New Orleans.
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