ld find his point
sticking out of my back. I could hardly believe he was not hitting me; I
began to prickle in half a dozen places, and knew not whether the stings
were real or imaginary. But one was not imaginary; my shoulder which
Lucas had pinked and the doctor bandaged was throbbing painfully. I
fancied that in my earlier combat the wound had opened again and that I
was bleeding to death; and the fear shook me. I lunged wildly, and I
had been sent to my account in short order had not at this moment one of
the other pair near us, as it afterward appeared, driven his weapon
square through his vis-a-vis's breast.

"I am done for. Run who can!" he cried as he fell. The sword snapped in
two against the paving-stones; he rolled over and lay still, his face in
the dirt.

My encounterer, with a shout to his single remaining comrade, made off
down the lane. On my part, I was very willing to let him depart in
peace.

The clash of swords up the lane had ceased at the stricken man's cry,
and out of the gloom came the sound of footfalls fainter and fainter. I
deemed that the battle was over.

The champion came toward me, three white patches visible for his face
and hands; the rest of him but darkness moving in darkness. He held a
sword rifled from the enemy, and advanced on me hesitatingly, not sure
whether friend or foe remained to him. I felt that an explanation was
due from me, but in my ignorance as to who he was and who his foes were,
and why they had been fighting him and why we had been fighting them, I
stood for a moment confused. It is hard to open conversation with a
shadow.

He spoke first, in a voice husky from his exertion:

"Who are you?"

"A friend," I said. "My master and I saw two men fighting four--we came
to help the weaker side. Your friend was hurt, but he got away safe to
fetch aid."

The unknown made a rapid step toward me, crying, "What--"

But at the word M. Etienne emerged from the shadows.

"Who lives?" he called out. "You, Felix?"

"Not hurt, monsieur. And you?"

"Not a scratch. Nor did I scratch my man. Permit me to congratulate you,
monsieur l'inconnu, on our coming up when we did."

The unknown said one word:

"Etienne!"

I sprang forward with the impulse to throw my arms about him, in the
pure rapture of recognizing his voice. This struggler, whom we had
rushed in, blindfold, to save, was Monsieur! If we had been content to
mind our own business, had sheered away like the depu