passes
would dispose of the lad's opposition, and he sought not to interfere.
Then he saw Crispin advancing towards him slowly, his rapier naked in
his hand, and he was forced to look to himself. He caught at the sword
that stood behind him, and leaping to his feet he sprang forward to
meet his grim antagonist. Galliard's eyes flashed out a look of joy, he
raised his rapier, and their blades met.

To the clash of their meeting came an echoing clash from beyond the
table.

"Hold, sir!" Kenneth had cried, as Gregory bore down upon him. But
Gregory's answer had been a lunge which the boy had been forced to
parry. Taking that crossing of blades for a sign of opposition, Gregory
thrust again more viciously. Kenneth parried narrowly, his blade
pointing straight at his aggressor. He saw the opening, and both
instinct and the desire to repel Gregory's onslaught drew him into
attempting a riposte, which drove Gregory back until his shoulders
touched the panels of the wall. Simultaneously the boy's foot struck the
back of the chair which in rising Crispin had overset, and he stumbled.
How it happened he scarcely knew, but as he hurtled forward his blade
slid along his opponent's, and entering Gregory's right shoulder pinned
him to the wainscot.

Joseph heard the tinkle of a falling blade, and assumed it to be
Kenneth's. For the rest he was just then too busy to dare withdraw for
a second his eyes from Crispin's. Until that hour Joseph Ashburn had
accounted himself something of a swordsman, and more than a match
for most masters of the weapon. But in Crispin he found a fencer of a
quality such as he had never yet encountered. Every feint, every botte
in his catalogue had he paraded in quick succession, yet ever with the
same result--his point was foiled and put aside with ease.

Desperately he fought now, darting that point of his hither and thither
in and out whenever the slightest opening offered; yet ever did it
meet the gentle averting pressure of Crispin's blade. He fought on and
marvelled as the seconds went by that Gregory came not to his aid. Then
the sickening thought that perhaps Gregory was overcome occurred to
him. In such a case he must reckon upon himself alone. He cursed
the over-confidence that had led him into that ever-fatal error of
underestimating his adversary. He might have known that one who had
acquired Sir Crispin's fame was no ordinary man, but one accustomed to
face great odds and master them. He mi