Desmond no longer stayed to weigh possibilities or count risks.  It was clear that Fuzl Khan’s first onslaught had failed; had he got home, the overseer, powerful as he was, must have been killed on the spot.  In the darkness the Gujarati’s knife had probably missed its aim.  He had now two enemies to deal with, and but for intervention he must soon be overcome and slain.

Drawing his sword, Desmond sprang from the tree and dashed across the open, reaching the scene of the struggle just in the nick of time to strike up Diggle’s weapon ere it sheathed itself in the Gujarati’s side.  Diggle turned with a startled oath, and seeing who his assailant was, he left his companion to take care of himself, and faced Desmond, a smile of anticipated triumph wreathing his lips.

No word was spoken.  Diggle lunged, and Desmond at that moment knew that he was at a perilous crisis of his life.  The movements of the practised swordsman could not be mistaken; he himself had little experience; all that he could rely on was his quick eye and the toughness of his muscles.  He gave back, parrying the lunge, tempted to use his pistol upon his adversary.  But now that the cannonading had ceased the shot might be heard by some of the Pirate’s men, and before he could escape he might be beset by a crowd of ruffians against whom he would have no chance at all.  He could but defend himself with his sword and hope that Diggle might overreach himself in his fury and give him an opportunity to get home a blow.

Steel struck upon steel; the sparks flew; and the evil smile upon Diggle’s face became fixed as he saw that Desmond was no match for him in swordsmanship.  But it changed when he found that though his young opponent’s science was at fault, his strength and dexterity, his wariness in avoiding a close attack, served him in good stead.  Impatient to finish the fight, he took a step forward, and lunged so rapidly that Desmond could hardly have escaped his blade but for an accident.  There was a choking sob to his right, and just as Diggle’s sword was flashing towards him a heavy form fell against the blade and upon Desmond.  In the course of their deadly struggle the Gujarati and the overseer had shifted their ground, and at this moment, fortunately for Desmond, Fuzl Khan had driven his knife into his old oppressor’s heart.

But the same accident that saved Desmond’s life gave Diggle an opportunity of which he was quick to avail himself.  Before Desmond could recover his footing, Diggle shortened his arm and was about to drive his sword through the lad’s heart.  The Gujarati saw the movement.  Springing in with uplifted knife, he attempted to turn the blade.  He succeeded; he struck it upwards; but the force with which he had thrown himself between the two swordsmen was his undoing.  Unable to check his rush, he received the point of Diggle’s sword in his throat.  With a terrible cry he raised his hands to clutch his assailant; but his strength failed him; he swayed, tottered, and fell gasping at Desmond’s feet, beside the lifeless overseer.