Lord Packwood glanced over the table. There were flintlocks, sabers, maces, ray guns, and some electrified gages he had no idea what possible damage they could inflict. “Chose,” said the younger rake. Dam this dueling bullshit. Every third son in the shire had challenged him at least once to a stand off. “Got to make an example out of this one,” said Packwood. “I chose endoscopes at ten inches.” Percy Wainwright turned quite pale and whisper to his second. A large bag of gold coins dropped on the table. Honor restored Dr Packwood put Big Ben back in the bag.