"We have no surgeon here, I perceive," he smiled. "Ah well, so much the better." So saying, he took up the nearest sword haphazard, twirled it, made a rapid pa.s.s in the air and stood waiting.

"My Lord Cleeve," said the Major as the Colonel drew his weapon and stepped forward, "when once we engage you will on no account strike up our swords----"

"But damme, man Jack, how if you wound each other----"

"Why then sir," murmured Mr. Dalroyd quietly, testing the suppleness of his blade, "we shall proceed to--exterminate one another. This is to the death, my lord!"

The library was a long, s.p.a.cious chamber with the broad fireplace at one end; moreover the Sergeant had already set back the furniture against the wall and rolled up the rugs out of the way. Lord Cleeve glanced round about him quick-eyed, ordered the candles to be disposed a little differently that there might be no advantage of light, then, folding his arms, glanced from the pale, serene face of the Major to the cold, smiling face of Mr. Dalroyd as they fronted each other sword in hand in the middle of the wide floor.

"Then, 'tis understood, I am not to part ya', not to interfere until----"

"Until one of us is dead, my lord!" said Mr. Dalroyd, his nostrils quivering.

"Exactly so!" said the Major. "Sergeant Zebedee--lock the door!"

Lord Cleeve shrugged his shoulders: "'Tis a d.a.m.nably cold-blooded business altogether!" said he as the Sergeant turned key in lock.

"Agreed, sir!" smiled Mr. Dalroyd. "But pray be so obliging as to give the word."

The Colonel shrugged his shoulders again, cleared his throat and took a step backwards:

"Ready, sirs!" said he curtly. "On guard!"

The narrow blades glittered, crossed, kissed lightly together and remained for a moment rigidly motionless, then, quicker than eye could follow, flashed into swift and deadly action. Followed the soft thud of swift-moving feet, the quick, light beat of the blades, now ringing sharply, now clashing and grinding, now silent altogether. Mr.

Dalroyd's white teeth were bared in a confident smile as, pressing in, he beset the Major with thrust on thrust, now in the high line, now in the low, constantly changing his attack, besetting him with cunning beats and skilful twists; but cunning was met with cunning and fierce attack with calm and unerring guard.

Thus as the moments sped, the fighting grew ever more close and deadly, the blades darted and writhed unceasingly, they flashed and flickered in narrow circles, while the Sergeant, leaning broad back against locked door, watched the rapid exchanges with a fencer's eye and the Colonel forgot all else in the world but the sublime skill of their play. But as the moments dragged by, the Colonel's fingers began to pull and twist irritably at one of the b.u.t.tons of his coat, and about this time too, Sergeant Zebedee's nonchalant att.i.tude changed to one of rigid attention, his black brows twitched and in his look was dawning bewilderment; for while Mr. Dalroyd fought serene of face and tireless of arm the Major seemed to have become strangely languid and unaccountably slow, his pallid cheeks were lined with sweat and he laboured painfully in his breathing; noting all of which the Sergeant's bewilderment grew to anxiety, while Colonel Cleeve's fingers were twisting and wrenching at the b.u.t.ton harder than ever.

Without the windows was the ceaseless rush of the wind, now rising to an angry roar, now dying to a mournful wail; within was a ceaseless tread of shoeless feet and ring of steel, now clashing fierce and loud, and always the Sergeant's anxiety increased, for the Major's parries seemed slower than ever; again and again his adversary's point, flashing perilously near, was turned only just in time, once ripping the cambric at his neck and again at shoulder; and ever Mr. Dalroyd's smile grew more confident and the spectators' anxious bewilderment the keener.

All at once the Sergeant uttered a gasp, the Colonel took a quick stride forward as Mr. Dalroyd, thrusting in tierce, flashed into carte and drove in a vicious lunge--was met by lightning riposte and flinging himself sideways sprang out of distance, a fleck of blood upon his shirt-sleeve.

"You are touched, I think, sir?" enquired the Colonel.

"Thank you, 'tis nought in the world," he answered, panting a little but with lips that curled and nostrils that quivered in his cold smile as he watched the Major who stood, haggard of face, one hand pressed to his side, his lips close-set, breathing hard through his nose.

"Art hurt, man Jack--art hurt?"

"Nay sir I--I am well enough!" he answered, forcing a ghastly smile--"when Captain Effingham is ready----"

"Nay sir," answered Mr. Dalroyd, bowing, "pray take your time--you are a little distressed I think, pray recover your breath----"

"I am quite ready, sir." So they bowed to each other, advanced upon each other and again their weapons crossed. And now as though they knew it was a matter of time they pressed each other more fiercely and with a new impetuosity, yet equally alert and wary--came a whirl and flurry of ringing steel drowned all at once in the crash of splintering gla.s.s at one of the windows--a frenzied hand that groped, then the cas.e.m.e.nt swung wide with a rush of wind and, as though borne in upon the raging tempest, a figure sprang into the room, long hair flying, a cloud of tresses black as the night, silks and satins torn and mud-splashed, one white hand grasping a silver-mounted pistol, the other stretched out commandingly.

"Stop!" she panted. "Stop!"

At sight of her Mr. Dalroyd lowered his weapon and bowed; the Major, with head drooping, viewed her beneath his brows, then, crossing to the table leaned there with head averted, and Lord Cleeve, having opened his eyes to their widest, opened his mouth also--but said not a word and dropped a b.u.t.ton from suddenly relaxed fingers; as for the Sergeant he unclenched his fists, breathed a deep sigh of thankfulness and murmured "Zounds!"

"My Lord Cleeve," said she at last, "when Mr. Dalroyd has taken his departure, I will beg you to escort me to my house."

Lord Cleeve bowed and sheathed his sword looking foolish the while.

"A--a happiness!" he stammered.

"Mr. Dalroyd," said my lady very proudly for all her torn and muddy gown, "I ask you to prove your manhood by setting by that sword and leaving the house--now! You will find one of your coach horses below the terrace. Your quicker way will be by the window yonder."

Mr. Dalroyd hesitated, his pale cheeks flushed suddenly, his sleepy eyes opened wide, then he smiled and bowing, reached for his coat and with the Colonel's a.s.sistance got into it, and he slipped on his shoes.

Then, heedless of the others, he caught my lady's hand to his lips and bowing, kissed it.

"Ah, Betty," said he, "you are worth the winning--aye, upon my soul you are!"

"Take your pistol, sir!" He took it, turned it over and laughed gently.

"My dear lady," said he, "after your exploits this night I wouldn't forego you for any woman that ever tempted man. Your time shall be my time and my time is--soon, Betty--ah, soon!" And bowing again, he crossed to the open window, stepped out into the dark and was gone.

For a moment none moved, then the Sergeant crossed the room and closed the shattered cas.e.m.e.nt.

"Major d'Arcy," said my lady, and now there was a troubled quiver in the clear voice, "upon a night not long ago you made me a promise--nay, swore me an oath. Do you remember?" The Major was silent. "Sir," she continued, her voice growing more troubled, "you did not give me that oath easily and now--O is it thus you keep all your promises?" The Major made no answer, nor did he stir, nor even lift his head.

"John," she took a quick step toward the rigid figure. "O Jack--you are not hurt----"

"Thank you--I am--very well!" he answered, still without turning, and gripping the sword he still held in rigid fingers. After this there seemed a long silence filled with the rumble of wind in the wide chimney. Then my lady stirred, sighed, and stretched out her hand to Colonel Cleeve.

"O my lord," she said wearily, "prithee take me home." So the Colonel took her hand, drew it through his arm and led her towards the door, but ever as she went she gazed towards the Major's motionless back; reaching the door she paused, but still his head was averted; then she sighed, shivered and, despite her muddy and tattered gown, swept away upon Lord George's arm like a young, disdainful G.o.ddess.

The Major drew a quivering breath and his sword clattered upon the floor.

"G.o.d above!" exclaimed the Sergeant, clasping strong arms about that rigid form, "the Captain pinked you after all, sir."

"No, Zeb, no--but I fancy I've broke a--couple of ribs or so--as 'twere, d'ye see, Zeb----" And sighing, he fell forward with his head pillowed upon the Sergeant's shoulder.

CHAPTER XLIII

HOW THEY DRANK A NEW TOAST

"The Major's rib will do, sir," nodded Dr. Ponderby, "'tis doing well and will do better and better. A simple fracture, sir--'twill be sound in no time, it being a rib of health abounding, owing, if I may put it so, to an abstemious life, a past puritanic--a----"

"Abstemious, sir!" exclaimed Lord Cleeve, rolling his eyes, "abstemious d'ya' say? O begad, hark to that, Jack! Abstemious sir, abste----"

The Colonel choked and rolled his eyes fiercer than ever.

"My lord," said portly Dr. Ponderby, patting his smooth wig, "I am no Puritan myself, nor do I look askance at a gla.s.s or so of wine, far from it----"

"The bottle is at your elbow, sir," said the Major from his cushioned chair.

"Abstemious--begad!" chuckled Lord Cleeve, snuffing fiercely.