Writing for Fun
January 2015
Life Is A Game Of Chance - Peter Rogers
It was at 10.30pm that Jeremy Tremayne's brother showed his guest into his sitting room.
'You'll excuse the lateness of the hour,' said the visitor curtly as he removed his dripping riding cloak, 'But you'll appreciate it's taken some time to track you down from London.'
But this is my ancestral home,' countered Jeremy, 'I haven't deliberately gone into hiding. In fact I've been half expecting you.'
'Have you, by jove?' said Sir Anthony Redvers, his uninvited guest. 'Nevertheless, it's been a dashed long journey to find you skulking up here in this God forsaken spot in the Highlands of Scotland.
'I haven't been skulking,' replied his reluctant host calmly. 'As I said, you weren't expected.'
'Well, that's as may be,' continued Sir Anthony gruffly. 'As my arrival is not such a big surprise to you, no doubt you're aware of my purpose.'
'Indeed,' said Jeremy, leaving it to the other to explain his mission. Both men were in their mid-30's, both moustachioed, both dressed in the height of Victorian fashion. There the similarities ended.
Jeremy Tremayne was quiet and unassuming, but nevertheless one could see a sense of purpose in his steady gaze.
Redvers, on the other hand, was of a headstrong character who frequented several gaming houses in the English capital. In fact, his winnings, when he won, helped to finance his extravagant lifestyle. It was also said by those in the know that he had fought and won a sc ore of duels, with sword and pistol.
'Fact is, Tremayne,' continued Sir Anthony, 'As you know you were in the same regiment as my brother. You both fought together at the battle of Inkerman and, not to beat about the bush, you implied that my brother Alex led his company into a rash cavalry charge against the damned Ruskies.'
'I merely expressed my opinion to a fellow office, who evidently saw fit to repeat my confidential conversation. Nevertheless I stand by my statements and nothing you or anyone can say or do will cause me to retract those statements,' said Tremayne defiantly.
'Very well, Tremayne, you leave me no choice. I demand satisfaction from you for besmirching my brother's reputation. As you are aware he died from his wounds, so it behoves me to challenge you in his stead.'
To leave Jeremy no choice in the matter, Sir Anthony struck him across the face with his heavy riding gauntlet. Now he had to accept the other's challenge or forever be branded a coward.
'Very well, Redvers,' said Jeremy, his cheek reddening from the blow, 'I accept your challenge and since it appears that I am the aggrieved party, it is my privilege to choose weapons.'
'Agreed,' said Redvers, 'Which will it be, swords or pistols?'
'I have recently acquired from America a six-shot revolver, the Colt 45. Incidentally, for the duel I have in mind, no Seconds will be necessary.'
'No Seconds? That's a bit rum, isn't it? Oh well, as you say you're the injured party and I've fought many duels where no third parties were present. But hang on,' Sir Anthony suddenly interjected, 'You said you had a revolver, don't you own a pair of pistols?'
'No,' replied Jeremy, 'One revolver is sufficient for my purpose.'
'I see,' said Sir Anthony contemptuously, 'So as the injured party you take first shot and if for some reason you fail to kill me, I then get a shot at you?'
'Not at all. You misunderstand. There is but one bullet in the gun and after spinning the chamber of the gun, it will be left to chance which one has the bullet in it.'
Redvers remained silent.
'I know full well that, given your experience and dexterity with sword and pistol during half a lifetime of duelling, you have a distinct advantage over me. I'm merely attempting to even the odds in the fairest way I can think of.'
'You're mad!' cried Sir Anthony.
'Possibly,' responded Jeremy placidly. 'You will take the first shot at me, that's only fair as I have forced this situation upon you.'
Sir Anthony Redvers picked up the gun with a steady hand, spun the chambers, then marched twenty paces from Tremayne, cocked the hammer after taking aim and finally pulled the trigger. There was a dull click on the empty chamber.
'My turn now,' said Jeremy evenly. He took the gun from a white faced Sir Anthony and repeated the same process. Again there was just a hollow click.
The same happened a third and fourth time. Now there were just two remaining chambers, with one shot for each and now, of course, there was a 50% chance of each opponent now surviving . . . or not.
It was once again Redvers' turn to fire and he raised the weapon and then lowered it.
'Look here, Tremayne,' he intoned thoughtfully, 'I think we've proved to each other fairly conclusively that our courage is up to the mark. For my part, I think honour has been satisfied. What d'you say we call it a day and end it now?'
'Well, if you're sure you've had satisfaction . . .' Jeremy answered.
'Oh, absolutely, absolutely. I can't see any point in carrying on with this nonsense, especially on account of my ne'er do well brother,' Redvers added ruefully.
Sir Anthony put on his gloves, cloak and hat and was just about to bid goodbye to his erstwhile opponent, when a thought occurred to him.
'I say, Tremayne, don't take offence, but I must ask you. Look here, I – I suppose there is a bullet in one of the chambers?'
'How very astute of you to ask the inevitable question,' said Jeremy, taking the pistol and aiming at the mantelpiece. He pulled the trigger and there was yet another click.
'Well I'm damned!' said Sir Anthony.
Jeremy Tremayne lowered the weapon and smiled grimly at his guest. He then suddenly raised the gun again, took aim at the mantelpiece a second time and shot a chip off the top of it.