he vigour of his attack and the circular sweep of his
point to protect himself. Not seldom has a man skilled in the
subtleties of the art found himself confused and overcome by this mode
of attack. But Payton had met his man too often on the green to be
taken by surprise. He parried the first thrust, the second he evaded by
stepping adroitly aside. By the same movement he put the sun in
Asgill's eyes.

Again the latter rushed in, striving to get within his opponent's
guard; and again Payton stepped aside, and allowed the random thrust to
pass wasted under his arm. Once more the same thing happened--Asgill
rushed in, Payton parried or evaded with the ease and coolness of
long-tried skill. By this time Asgill, forced to keep his blade in
motion, was beginning to breathe quickly. The sweat stood on his brow,
he struck more and more wildly, and with less and less strength or aim.
He was aware--it could be read in the glare of his eyes--that he was
being reduced to the defensive; and he knew that to be fatal. An oath
broke from his panting lips and he rushed in again, even more
recklessly, more at random than before, his sole object now to kill the
other, to stab him at close quarters, no matter what happened to
himself.

Again Payton avoided the full force of the rush, but this time after a
different fashion. He retreated a step. Then, with a flicker and a
girding of steel on steel, Asgill's sword flew from his hand, and at
the same instant--or so nearly at the same instant that the disarming
and the thrust might have seemed to an untrained eye one motion--Payton
turned his wrist and his sword buried itself in Asgill's body. The
unfortunate man recoiled with a gasping cry, staggered and sank
sideways to the ground.

"By the powers," O'Beirne exclaimed, springing forward, "a foul stroke!
By G--d, a foul stroke! He was disarmed. I----"

"Have a care what you say!" Payton answered slowly, and in a terrible
tone. "You'd do better to look to your friend--for he'll need it."

"It's you that struck him after he was disarmed!" Morty cried, almost
weeping with rage. "Devil a bit of a chance did you give him! You----"

"Silence, I say!" Payton answered, in a fierce tone of authority. "I
know my duty; and if you know yours you'll look to him."

He turned aside with that, and thrust the point of his sword twice and
thrice into the sod before he sheathed the weapon. Meanwhile Morty had
cast himself down beside the fallen man, wh