was his father--slight, well-knit, and agile--and
the other--heavy, massively built, and powerful--the Baron Steinberg,
the desire was strong to rush between them; but the power was wanting,
and he stood as if fixed to the spot, staring with starting eyes at the
rapid exchanges made, for each was a good swordsman, well skilled in
attack and defence, while the blades, as they grated edge to edge and
played here and there, flashed in the morning light; and as if in utter
mockery of the scene, a bird uttered its sweet song to the coming day.

There were moments when, as the German's blade flashed dangerously near
Sir Robert's breast, Frank longed to close his eyes, but they were
fixed, and with shuddering emotion he followed every movement, feeling a
pang as a deadly thrust was delivered, drawing breath again as he saw it
parried.

For quite a minute the baron kept up a fierce attack in this, the second
encounter since they had begun, but every thrust was turned aside, and
at last, as if by one consent, the combatants drew back a step or two
with their breasts heaving, and, without taking their eyes off each
other, stood carefully re-rolling up their shirt sleeves over their
white muscular arms.

And now a low whispering went on among the officers, German and English,
who were present, and Andrew said softly in Frank's ear:

"Don't move--don't make a sign. It might unsettle Sir Robert if he knew
you were here."

Frank felt that this was true, and with his heart beating as if it would
break from his chest he stood watching his father, noting that his
breathing was growing more easy, and that he was, though his face was
wet with perspiration, less exhausted than his adversary, whose face
appeared drawn with hate and rage as he glared at the English captain.

Suddenly Captain Murray broke the silence by saying aloud to the German
officers:

"We are of opinion, gentlemen, that only one more encounter, the third,
should take place. This should decide."

"Tell them not to interfere," said Steinberg fiercely, but without
taking his eyes off his adversary. Then in French, with a very peculiar
accent, he cried, "_En garde_!" and stepped forward to cross swords with
Sir Robert once more.

The latter advanced at the same moment, and the blades clicked and
grated slightly, as their holders stood motionless, ready to attack or
defend as the case might be.

For nearly half a minute they stood motionless, eye fixed on eye