mer Ferne, and there was that which he lacked!
Up and down the room there ran a sudden sound of steel drawn swiftly
from metal, leather, or velvet sheaths. "My sword, Sir Mortimer Ferne!"
"Mine!" "And mine!" "Do mine honor, Sir Mortimer Ferne!" "Sir Mortimer
Ferne, take mine!"

Ferne's hand closed upon the hilt which Nevil had silently offered, and
he turned to salute his antagonist, whose pallor now matched his own.
"Are you that English knight?" demanded Brava with dry lips. "Then in
courtesy alone will we cross blades--no more!"

The steel clashed, the points fell, and Spaniard and Englishman bowed
gravely each to the other. "I thank you," said Ferne hoarsely. "With
your permission, senor, I will say good-night. You will understand, I
think, that I would be alone."

"That we must all understand," said Alonzo Brava. "Our good wishes
travel with you, senor."

Sir Mortimer turned, and from the younger, more heedless adventurers
broke a ringing shout, a repeated calling of his name until it echoed
from the lofty roof, but his friends spoke not to him, only made an
aisle through which he might pass. His arm was raised, Nevil's sword a
gleaming line along the dark velvet of his sleeve. The face seen below
the lifted arm was very strange, written over with a thousand meanings.
The poise of the figure and the light upon the sword increased the
effect of height, the effect of the one-night-whitened hair. There was,
moreover, the gleam and shadow of the countenance, evident forgetfulness
of time or place, the desire of the soul to be out with night and storm
and miracles. The English drew farther back, and he went by them like an
apparition.

Later in the night Nevil and Arden, after fruitless search, came upon a
space where the wall of Cartagena rose sheer above the water. To-night
the sea roared in their ears, but the storm had gone by, leaving upon
the horizon a black and rugged bank of cloud rimmed by great beacon
stars. Down through a wide rift in the clouds streamed light from a
haloed moon. Beneath it, seated upon the stone, his hands clasped about
his knees and a gleaming sword laid across them was the man they sought.
His head was lifted and the moon gave light enough by which to read the
lineaments of a good knight and true, brave, of stainless honor, a lover
of things of good repute, pure gold to his friends, generous to his
foes, gentle to the weak, tender and pitiful of all who sinned or
suffered. He heard t