His fingers tightened on it convulsively, and he shot a piercing glance at Jack.
"I am entirely at your service," he said very smoothly, and laid the sword on the table.
Some of the glare died out of my lord's eyes, and a little triumphant smile curved the corners of his mouth. Quickly he divested himself of his fine velvet coat, his waistcoat and his scabbard, and pulled off the heavy riding boots, caked with mud. He proceeded to tuck up his ruffles, awaiting his Grace's convenience.
As one in a dream, Diana saw the table pushed back, the paces measured, and heard the ring of steel against steel.
My lord opened the attack after a few moments' cautious circling, lunging swiftly and recovering, even as the Duke countered and delivered a lightning riposte en quinte. My lord parried gracefully in tierce, and chuckled softly to himself.
With parted lips and wide eyes, the girl on the couch watched each fresh lunge. A dozen times it seemed as though Carstares must be run through, but each time, by some miraculous means, he regained his opposition, and the Duke's blade met steel.
Once, indeed, thrusting in quarte, Tracy's point, aimed too high, flashed above the other's guard and ripped the cambric shirt at the sleeve. My lord retired his foot nimbly, parried, and riposted with a straight thrust, wrist held high, before Tracy could recover his opposition. The blades clashed as forte met foible, and my lord lunged straight at his opponent's breast.
Diana shut her eyes, expecting every moment to hear the dull thud of Tracy's body as it should fall to the ground. It did not come, but instead there sounded a confused stamping, and scraping of blades, and she looked again to find the Duke disengaging over my lord's supple wrist and being parried with the utmost ease and dexterity.
Carstares knew that he would not be able to last long, however. His shoulder, fretted by the long ride, was aching intolerably, and his wrist seemed to have lost some of its cunning. He was conscious of a singing in his head which he tried, in vain, to ignore. But his eyes glowed and sparkled with the light of battle and the primitive lust to kill.
The Duke was fencing with almost superhuman skill, moving heavily and deliberately, seemingly tireless.
Carstares, on the other hand, was as swift and light as a panther, grace in every turn of his slim body.
He feinted suddenly inside the arm, deceiving the parade of tierce. His Grace fell back a pace, parrying in quarte, and as John with a quick twist changed to quarte also and the blades crossed, Tracy lunged forward the length of his arm, and a deep red splash stained the whiteness of my lord's sleeve at the shoulder.
Diana gave a choked cry, knowing it to be the old wound, and the Duke's blade came to rest upon the ground.
"You are-satisfied?" he asked coolly, but panting a little.
My lord reeled slightly, controlled himself and brushed his left hand across his eyes.
"On guard!" was all he replied, ignoring a pleading murmur from the girl.
Tracy shrugged, meeting Carstares' blade with his, and the fight went on.
Tracy's eyes were almost shut, it appeared to Diana, his chin thrust forward, his teeth gripping the thin lower lip.
To her horror she saw that Carstares was breathing in gasps, and that his face was ashen in hue. It was torture to her to sit impotent, but she held herself in readiness to fly to his rescue should the need arise. Suddenly my lord feinted on both sides of the arm and ripped open the Duke's sleeve, causing a steady trickle of blood to drip down on to the floor.
Tracy took no notice, but countered so deftly that John's blade wavered, and he staggered back. For an instant it seemed as though the end had come, but somehow he steadied himself, recovering his guard.
Diana was on her feet now, nearly as white as her lover, her hands pressed to her breast. She saw that John's point was no longer so purposeful, and the smile had gone from his lips. They were parted now, the upper one rigid, and a deep furrow cut into his brow.
Then, startling in the stillness of the great house, came the clanging of a bell, pulled with some violence.
Carstares' white lips moved soundlessly, and Diana, guessing it to be her father, moved, clinging to the wall, towards the door.
A moment later along the passage came the sound of steps; a gay, boisterous voice was raised, followed by a deeper, graver one.
His Grace's face became devilish in its expression, but Carstares took no notice, seeming not to hear. Only he thrust with such skill that his Grace was forced to fall back a pace. The loud voices demanded to know what was toward in the locked room, and Diana, knowing that my lord was nearly spent, beat upon the panels.
"Quickly, quickly!" she cried. "Break through, for heaven's sake, whoever you are! 'Tis locked!"
"Good Gad! 'tis a woman!" exclaimed the voice. "Listen, Dick!-why-why-'tis a fight!"
"Oh, be quick!" implored poor Diana.
And then came the deeper voice: "Stand away, madam, we will burst the lock."
She moved quickly aside, turning her attention once more to the duel by the window, as Andrew flung his shoulder against the stout wood. At the third blow the lock gave, the door flew wide, and Lord Andrew was precipitated into the room.
And the two by the window fought on unheeding, faster and faster.
"Well, I'm damned!" said Andrew, surveying them. He walked forward interestedly, and at the same moment caught sight of Jack's face. He stared in amazement, and called to Richard.
"Good Lord! Here! Dick! Come here! Surely it's-who is that man?"
Diana saw the tall gentleman, so like her lover in appearance, step forward to the young rake's side. The next events happened in a flash. She heard a great cry, and before she had time to know what he was doing, Richard had whipped his sword from its scabbard and had struck up the two blades. In that moment the years rolled back, and, recognising his brother, Jack gasped furiously:
"Damn-you-Dick! Out-of-the way!"
Tracy stood leaning on his sword, watching, his breath coming in gasps, but still with that cynical smile on his lips.
Richard, seeing that his brother would fly at the Duke again, closed with him, struggling to wrest the rapier from his weakened grasp.
"You fool, John, leave go! Leave go, I say!"
With a twist he had the sword in his hand and sent it spinning across the room as without a sound my lord crumpled up and fell with a thud to the floor.
CHAPTER XXVIII IN WHICH WHAT THREATENED TO BE TRAGEDY TURNS TO COMEDY
WITH a smothered cry Diana flew across the room to where my lord lay in a pitiful little heap, but before her was Richard. He fell on his knees beside the still figure, feeling for the wound.
Diana, on the other side, looked across at him.
"'Tis his shoulder, sir-an old wound. Oh, he is not-he cannot be-dead?"
Richard shook his head dumbly and gently laid bare the white shoulder. The wound was bleeding very slightly, and they bound it deftly betwixt them, with their united handkerchiefs and a napkin seized from the table.
"'Tis exhaustion, I take it," frowned Richard, his hand before the pale lips. "He is breathing still."
Over her shoulder Diana shot an order:
"One of you men, please fetch water and cognac!"
"At once, madam!" responded Andrew promptly, and hurried out.
She bent once more over my lord, gazing anxiously into his face.
"He will live? You-are sure? He-he must have rid all the way from Maltby-for me!" She caught her breath on a sob, pressing one lifeless hand to her lips.
"For you, madam?" Richard looked an inquiry.
She blushed.
"Yes-he-we-I-"
"I see," said Richard gravely.
She nodded.
"Yes, and-and the Duke-caught me, and-brought me here-and-and then he came-and saved me!"