Two rounds had been fought, and neither man was wounded.  But whilst Lord Claud looked just as cool and steady as at the start, the dark adversary was flushed and inclined to pant, and the beads of sweat stood upon his forehead notwithstanding the briskness of the morning air.

Then Tom began to understand where Lord Claud’s advantage lay.  If he could tire out his adversary by keeping on the defensive, then at the last he might get his chance, and lunge at him when he would scarce be able to parry the thrust.

It was easy to see that his weak point was slowness of recovery.  His thrusts were quick and well planted, he had an excellent guard and mastery of the weapon; but he was slow in recovering after making a lunge, and the longer the fight continued the more evident did this defect become.  And it was plain that he was aware of it, for though he pressed upon his antagonist with great determination and with much dexterity of sword play, he was afraid to take advantage of his longer reach and lunge at him boldly; for he knew that if Lord Claud avoided the thrust, he would almost certainly have at him with a counter lunge before he had time to parry.

And, in fact, that was what did at the last happen, after the fight had lasted so long that Tom thought half an hour must surely have gone by.  Both antagonists showed signs of weariness.  It had even been suggested that enough had been done to satisfy the claims of honour; but to that suggestion neither principal would listen.

Sir James was much distressed.  Sweat poured from his brow, his breath came in deep gasps, his face was growing purple.  Lord Claud looked white, but otherwise had not changed in aspect, and the deadly battle light in his eyes was growing brighter and keener.

His heavy antagonist now saw that nothing could serve his purpose but an exercise of sheer weight and brute force, and he pressed on and on with such fury that Tom almost cried aloud in his fear.  But Lord Claud was wary and watchful; he gave way for a while, only parrying the thrusts, and that with not so much force as before; then suddenly Sir James made a furious lunge, and calling out in a strangled voice, “Have at you now!” he all but buried his rapier in his adversary’s body.

All but—­yet not quite; for just at the moment when it seemed impossible to parry the furious stroke, Lord Claud made a curious upward twist of the wrist, caught his adversary’s blade and turned it so that it glanced aside and passed him, whilst he sprang towards him at the same instant, and saying quite coolly, “Sir, methinks your physician would recommend blood letting in your heated condition,” he thrust straight and true at his burly adversary, running the shining blade into his shoulder in such a fashion that the tip of the rapier reappeared red with blood behind him, and he fell forwards with a smothered bellow like that of a bull who is ringed, so that Lord Claud had need of all his quickness to withdraw his rapier in time.