Suddenly he feinted, and fell back. Tracy saw his advantage and pressed forward within the wavering sword-point.

The next instant his sword was whirled from his grasp, and he lay on the ground, unhurt but helpless, gazing up at the masked face and at the shortened rapier. How he had been thrown he did not know, but that his opponent was a past master in the art of fence he was perfectly sure.

My lord gave a little chuckle and twisted a handkerchief about his wounded arm.

“I am aware, m’sieur, that this is most unusual⁠—and, in duels⁠—forbidden. But I am sure that milor’ will agree that the circumstances are also⁠—most unusual⁠—and the odds⁠—almost overwhelming!” He turned his head to the two men, one of whom released his hold on the girl’s arm and started forward.

“Oh, no!” drawled my lord, shaking his head. “Another step and I spit your master where he lies.”