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"There are no distances to step out" Danvers was saying. "One spot's as good as another. It's level enough here."

"Very good" said Hether. "Will you stand here, Mr. Simpson?"

Preston beckoned to Hornblower, who walked over. It was not easy to appear brisk and unconcerned. Preston took him by the arm and stood him up in front of Simpson, almost breast to breast--close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath.

"For the last time, gentlemen" said Masters loudly. "Cannot you be reconciled?"

There was no answer from anybody, only deep silence, during which it seemed to Hornblower that the frantic beating of his heart must be clearly audible. The silence was broken by an exclamation from Hether.

"We haven't settled who's to give the word!" he said. "Who's going to?"

"Let's ask Mr. Masters to give it" said Danvers.

Hornblower did not look round. He was looking steadfastly at the grey sky past Simpson's right ear--somehow he could not look him in the face, and he had no idea where Simpson was looking. The end of the world as he knew it was close to him--soon there might be a bullet through his heart.