ay out of the trap,
and turning on his heel, he walked to his ground.

The duel began. The combatants were about equal in youth, height and
build; in skill they were unfairly matched. Vane was comparatively a
novice in the use of the "white arm." Dorrimore, on the other hand, was
a practised swordsman, though he was not so accomplished as he fancied
he was.

The two, after the preliminary salute, advanced to the attack. Dorrimore
handled his weapon with a slightly contemptuous air, as if he did not
think it worth while to take much trouble over so inferior an opponent.

To a certain extent he was right. Vane, however, was shrewd enough to
see that this carelessness was but assumed, and he did not take
advantage of one or two opportunities of thrusting given him by
Dorrimore, evidently with the intention of leading him into a trap.

So they went on cautiously, their blades rasping against each other, and
neither man gaining any advantage, although once or twice Vane found his
antagonist's weapon perilously near his body. Then all at once Dorrimore
changed his methods. He began fencing in earnest, and so rapid was the
play of his sword that the eye could scarcely follow it. Suddenly he
muttered an oath as a red stain appeared on his arm. Vane had been lucky
enough to scratch him, probably more by accident than dexterity.

Dorrimore roused himself and his fencing became more vigorous. Vane was
being pressed very closely, and Dorrimore's thrusts were becoming more
and more difficult to parry. Moreover, Vane's nerves were unsteady and
his movements were flustered. The gleaming steel danced, he grew
confused, faltered, and then came a cold biting sensation in his chest,
he fell and knew no more.

"An ugly thrust, Mr. Dorrimore," growled Rofflash five minutes
afterwards. "What's to be done?"

"Is he dead?" asked Dorrimore anxiously. "I'd no intention of going as
far as that, but it was the fool's own fault. He was rushing upon me
when my point touched him. I couldn't withdraw it in time."

Rofflash, while with Marlborough's army, had acquired some rough
knowledge of surgery. His hands had gone over Vane's chest in the region
of the heart. The wound was on the right side.

"There's life left," said the captain, "but he won't last long without a
surgeon. The blade's touched the lungs, I'll swear. Look ye here, sir.
If the man dies it'll be awkward for us all round. The fight was fair
enough, but the devil only knows wh