ndows.

"I find it light enough," he answered.

Samoval's reply was instantaneous. "On guard, then," he cried, and on
the words, without giving Sir Terence so much as time to comply with
the invitation, he whirled his point straight and deadly at the greyish
outline of his opponent's body. But a ray of moonlight caught the
blade and its livid flash gave Sir Terence warning of the thrust so
treacherously delivered. He saved himself by leaping backwards--just
saved himself with not an inch to spare--and threw up his blade to meet
the thrust.

"Ye murderous villain," he snarled under his breath, as steel ground on
steel, and he flung forward to the attack.

But from the gloom came a little laugh to answer him, and his angry
lunge was foiled by an enveloping movement that ended in a ripost. With
that they settled down to it, Sir Terence in a rage upon which that
assassin stroke had been fresh fuel; the Count cool and unhurried,
delaying until the moonlight should have crept a little farther, so as
to enable him to make quite sure that his stroke when delivered should
be final.

Meanwhile he pressed Sir Terence towards the side where the moonlight
would strike first, until they were fighting close under the windows of
the residential wing, Sir Terence with his back to them, Samoval facing
them. It was Fate that placed them so, the Fate that watched over Sir
Terence even now when he felt his strength failing him, his sword
arm turning to lead under the strain of an unwonted exercise. He knew
himself beaten, realised the dexterous ease, the masterly economy of
vigour and the deadly sureness of his opponent's play. He knew that he
was at the mercy of Samoval; he was even beginning to wonder why the
Count should delay to make an end of a situation of which he was so
completely master. And then, quite suddenly, even as he was returning
thanks that he had taken the precaution of putting all his affairs in
order, something happened.

A light showed; it flared up suddenly, to be as suddenly extinguished,
and it had its source in the window of Lady O'Moy's dressing-room, which
Samoval was facing.

That flash drawing off the Count's eyes for one instant, and leaving
them blinded for another, had revealed him clearly at the same time to
Sir Terence. Sir Terence's blade darted in, driven by all that was left
of his spent strength, and Samoval, his eyes unseeing, in that moment
had fumbled widely and failed to find the other's s