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.
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