ht, fast
and furious as ever, and though Raikes came dangerously near time and
time again, his point was always met and parried.

Minutes passed that seemed hours--there were sudden pauses when we could
detect the thud of feet and the hiss of breath drawn sharply between
shut teeth. And now, to my amazement, I saw that Mr. Tawnish was
pressing the attack, answering thrust with thrust, and _longe_ with
_longe_. The fighting grew to a positive frenzy; the shivering blades
rang with their swift changes from _quarte_ to _tierce_.

"Such a pace cannot last," says I, to no one in particular, "the end
must come soon!"

Almost with the words, I saw Mr. Tawnish's blade waver aimlessly; Raikes
saw it too, and drove in a lightning thrust. There was a sharp clash of
meeting steel, a flurry of blades, and Sir Harry Raikes staggered back,
his eyes wide and staring, threw up his arms, and pitching forward,
rolled over with a groan.

CHAPTER EIGHT

_Wherein the Truth of the old Adage is made
manifest--to wit: All's well that
ends well_

So swift and altogether unexpected had been the end, that for a long
minute there was a strange, tense stillness, a silence wherein all eyes
were turned from the motionless form on the floor, with the
ever-widening stain upon the snow of his shirt, to where Mr. Tawnish
stood, leaning upon his small-sword. Then all at once pandemonium seemed
to break loose--some running to lift the wounded man, some wandering
round aimlessly, but all talking excitedly, and at the same time.

"Dick and Bentley," says Jack, mopping at his face with his
handkerchief, "it's in my mind that we have made a cursed mistake for
once--the fellow is a man."

"I've known that this month and more," says I.

"I say a man," repeated Jack, "and devil anoint me, I mean a man!"

"Who writes verses!" added Bentley.

"And what of that, sir?" cries Jack, indignantly. "I did the same myself
once--we all did."

"A patched and powdered puppy-dog!" sneers Bentley; "look at him."

Now at this, glancing across at Mr. Tawnish, I saw that he still stood
as before, only that the point of his sword was buried deep in the floor
beneath his weight, while his pale face seemed paler even than its
wont. As we watched, his hand slipped suddenly from the hilt, and he
tottered slightly; then I noticed for the first time that blood was
running down his righ