Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 135: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CLOVELLY. celle was he who killed the great Darnac in Orleans.” Lascelle bowed. “Then, sir,” cried Clovelly, “ I have the pleasure to tell you that from one who saw it I have learned that you won with a foul stroke!” Lascelle stiffened. “ A lie, monsieur!” he said. “Tush!” Clovelly sneered. “You say that to one whose hands are held.” “They may be at liberty sooner than you wish,” the other remarked darkly. “Call off your bloodhounds,” said Clovelly, ‘‘and give me freedom to an- swer.” ‘“‘ Tt shall be done,” Lascelle agreed in his slow voice, in the meantime running his eye up and down the body of Clovelly as if he were choosing in what place he might kill his man. ‘“ It shall be done. But, mon- sieur, you aré newly alighted from a weary journey. I would not have any advantage on my side. Will you first rest?” “‘ Bravo!” said a distant voice. “By heavens!” murmured Clovelly. “T am brought here to make a show for spectators. Who spoke there? I know that voice! Who spoke there?” “One who will see your body interred properly and decently,” Lascelle replied. “Have no fear of that! Come, mon- sieur!” He turned his back, and walked out to the center of the turf. There he re- moved his coat, tucked up the sleeves of his shirt, cast off his hat, tied back his long, flowing hair with a ribbon, and, draw- ing his sword, tried its flexible strength and the agility of his arm with two or three passes into the bodiless air. By his instructions, in the meantime, Clovelly had been released, and he hur- riedly made the same preparations, then stood forth, sword in hand. “ Here,” said Clovelly coolly, “ are four men of yours. Yonder I see poor Dunbar bound hand and foot and even gagged. Suppose, Lascelle, that I should win—what would my victory obtain for me?” ‘Suppose that you should win?” echoed Lascelle incredulously. ‘‘ By Heaven, mon- 125 sieur, do you hope for that? Well, in case you win, no hand will be laid on you. You depart?” ‘“What assurance have I of that?” “A better than mine!” “Yes!” affirmed the same distant voice which had spoken before. Clovelly turned toward the point from which he had heard it proceed and bowed low. ‘“ Most excellent and invisible spirit,” he said, “I thank you from the heart. M. Lascelle, begin.” “First,” Lascelle demanded, “ upon what particular quarrel?” “First,” Clovelly replied, ‘ because you have given me the lie. Is it enough?” “Enough! Begin, monsieur!”’ “Second, I accuse you here, formally, of killing my master, Darnac, with a foul stroke.” “Ten thousand devils!” groaned Las- celle in fury. “ Begin! Begin! It is more than enough!” “* After you, Lascelle!”’ The latter did not wait for a second bidding, but instantly leaped to the at- tack with a long lunge full at the throat of Clovelly. The stroke was parried. They circled each other with dainty, mincing steps, light as thistledown in the autumn wind. Now one darted in, the swords tan- gled with a light, fierce chattering of slender steel against slender steel. Then they leaped back with the blades still hum- ming from the force of the parries. And the narrow weapons seemed a length of shivering light from the many strong lamps which were burning under the eaves. Three times and again they closed, but still there was no result. Clovelly set his teeth. He had lived his life with the feeling that the greatest master of all had been Darnac. Now a cold doubt entered his mind. Perhaps this long, grim- faced murderer was a still greater man with a rapier. For his own part, the long ride had made his knees weak, his feet heavy. The chill of the night air was not yet out of his muscles. And he knew that a desperate struggle lay before him, TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK GOmiiGcdooks) (C@