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Updated: May 8, 2025
Two or three days after the battle letters were received from different members of the Second, claiming that they had shot Bailie Payton and Zollicoffer. It afterward was learned that no one ever knew who shot Peyton, and that Col. Fry of the Fourth Kentucky shot Zollicoffer. Lieut. Tuttle captured Peyton's sword and still has it in his possession. This sword has a historic record.
For Payton, he remained dumb with mortification and disgust; and if he had the grace to be thankful for anything, he was thankful that for the moment attention was diverted from him. Lemoine, indeed, the person more immediately concerned, had only eyes for his opponent, whom he regarded with a queer mixture of approval and vexation.
A patch of blood, bright-coloured, was growing slowly on his vest: and there was blood on his lips. "Oh, whirra, whirra, what'll I do?" the Irishman exclaimed, helplessly wringing his hands. "What'll I do for him? He's murdered entirely!" Payton, aided by one of the troopers, was putting on his coat and vest. He paused to bid the other help the gentleman.
"Should have been enough by itself, and the least taste more than enough, to prove the absurdity of the Castle's story." "True for you again," Payton replied. "And ain't I saying that but for your presence here, and a friend at court that I'll not name, it's not your humble servant this gentleman would be entertaining" he turned to The McMurrough "but half a company and a sergeant's guard!"
The intervener seemed to be reminding him of something; and the Colonel, not inattentive, and indeed suspicious, caught the name "Asgill" twice repeated. But Payton was too angry to care for minor consequences, or to regard anything but how he might most quickly escape from the scene of defeat and the eyes of those who had witnessed his downfall. He shook off his adviser with a rough hand.
"Ah, you are right again, to be sure!" Asgill agreed, laughing silently. For already he had formed a hope that the guest might be manoeuvred out of the house on the morrow. Not that he thought Payton was likely either to discover the Colonel's plight, or to interfere if he did. But Asgill had another, and a stronger motive for wishing the intruder away. He knew Payton.
"Did you succeed?" Payton retorted in an insolent tone. "To some extent," the Colonel replied, in the most matter-of-fact manner. And he transferred the foil to his left hand. "Give you four to one," Payton rejoined, "Lemoine hits you twice before you hit him once." Colonel John had anticipated some of the things that had happened. But he had not foreseen this.
But Payton, though English, was the younger, the handsomer, the better born, and, in his braggart fashion, the better bred. Both were Protestants; but if Asgill was the cleverer, Payton was an officer and a gentleman. The latter flattered himself that, given a little time, he would win, if not by favour, still by force or fraud.
"Ah, I hold Payton, sure enough," Asgill answered, "in the hollow of my hand, James McMurrough. But there's accident, and there's what not, and if in place of my restoring the mare to your sister, John Sullivan restored her faith, my lad, I'd be laughing on the other side of my face. And if he told what I'll be bound he knows of you, it would not suit you either!"
It went for something in his decision that he believed that Flavia, if he failed her, would go to the one person in the house who had no cause to fear Payton to Colonel Sullivan. If she did that, Asgill was sure that his own chance was at an end. This was his chance.
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