Sir Deryk's valet came to him, bowing.
"There is a gentleman below who desires speech with you, sir."
"Oh? Who is he?"
"Mr. Philip Jettan, sir."
Sir Deryk raised his eyebrows.
"Jettan? What can he want with me? Ay, I'll come." He rose and went
languidly downstairs. "This is an unexpected honour, Jettan! Come in!"
He led Philip into a large room. "Is it a mere friendly visit?"
"Anything but that," said Philip. "I have come to tell you that you
will not be able to wed Mistress Cleone Charteris."
"Oh?" Brenderby laughed. "Why do you say that?"
"Because," Philip smiled a little, "I am going to wed her myself."
"You? Oh, Gad, you make the third!"
"And there is, as you know, luck in odd numbers. Are you satisfied?"
"Satisfied? Damme, no! The girl's lovely! I've a mind to her."
"Even though I tell you that she desires to be released?"
"Even though she told it me herself!"
"I trust you will allow me to persuade you?" Philip patted his
sword-hilt lovingly.
A light sprang to Brenderby's eyes.
"Is it a fight you're wanting? By Gad, no man has ever had need to
challenge me twice! Here? Now? Help me push the table back!"
"One moment! You love a hazard, I think? I fight you for the right to
wed Mistress Cleone. If I win you relinquish all claim upon her, and
you swear never to breathe a word of what passed last night. If you
win--oh, if you win, you do as you please!"
"Ay, aught you will! I've been pining for a fight for many a long day.
You're a man after my heart, stap me if you're not! Here, wait while I
fetch my sword!" He hurried out of the room, returning in a very short
time with a rapier. "I've told my man that you have come to fence with
me. But we'll lock the door in case of accidents. How does my sword
measure with yours?"
Philip compared them.
"Very well." His eyes danced suddenly. "_Dieu!_ I never thought to
fight so strange a duel!" He pulled off his boots. "We'll fight in
wigs, yes? One is so displeasing without a hair to one's head."
"A dozen, if you like!" Brenderby struggled out of his coat and vest.
"You know, you are shorter than I am. We're not fair matched."
Philip laughed, tucking up his ruffles.
"No matter. You see, I must win!"
"Why?" Brenderby made an imaginary pass in the air.
"So much depends on it," explained Philip. "Is the light fair to both?"
"Fair enough," said Brenderby.
"You are ready, then? _Eh bien!_"
The blades met and hissed together.
Opening in quarte, Brenderby seemed at first to be the better of the
two. Philip stayed on the defensive, parrying deftly and allowing
Brenderby to expend his energies. Once Brenderby's blade flashed out
and all but pinked Philip, but he managed to recover his opposition
in time. His eyes opened wider; he became more cautious. Suddenly he
descried an opening and lunged forward. There was a moment's scuffle,
and Brenderby put the murderous point aside. Then Philip seemed to
quicken. When Brenderby began to pant, Philip changed his tactics, and
gave back thrust for thrust. His wrist was like flexible steel; his
footwork was superb; the whole style of his fencing was different from
that of Brenderby.
All at once Brenderby saw an opening. He thrust in quinte, steel
scraped against steel, and Philip's point flashed into his right arm
above the elbow.
Brenderby staggered back, clutched at his arm, and tried to raise his
sword again. But Philip was at his side, supporting him.
"It's only a flesh wound--painful now--_bien sûr_. It will--heal
quickly. I do not--mistake," he gasped.
"Damme--I'm not done for--yet!"
"But yes! I fight--no more. You cannot--keep your blade--steady--now!
Sit down!" He lowered Brenderby into a chair, and whisked out his
handkerchief. He bound up Sir Deryk's wound and fetched him a glass of
wine from a decanter on the sideboard.
"Thanks!" Sir Deryk gulped it down. "But where are my manners? Pour
some for yourself, Jettan! Gad, but you pinked me neatly!" He seemed to
slip back into his habitual drawl. "As pretty a piece of sword-play as
I wish to see. But you fence French-fashion."
Philip drank some wine.
"Yes. It was at Paris that I learned. With Guillaume Corvoisier."
"No!" Brenderby heaved himself up. "Corvoisier, forsooth! No wonder
you're so quick!"
Philip smiled and bowed.
"You frightened me more than once, sir."
"Faith, it wasn't apparent then! You were so intent on winning?"
"It means so much, you see," said Philip simply. "My whole life's
happiness."
"What! You really intend to wed Cleone?"
Again Philip bowed.
"I have always intended to wed her."
"You?" Brenderby stared. "I never knew that! What of that young sprig
Winton?"
"Oh, I think I can persuade James!"
"Like this?" Brenderby glanced down at his arm.
"No, not like that. Tell me, sir, did you intend to wed Mademoiselle?"
"Heaven forbid! I've no mind to tie myself up yet awhile. Your entrance
last night forced me to say what I did to spare the lady's blushes. I'd
no notion of continuing the comedy, until young Winton thrust in with
his prior claim. Gad, but 'twas amusing! Did you not find it so?"
"I? No. But I was closely concerned in the affair, you see. I may take
it that you will say naught of last night's work?"
"Of course not. 'Twas a mad jest, but I'd not let it go so far as to
damage a lady's reputation. And you may tell Mistress Cleone that I
apologise--for what happened before. She's too damnably beautiful."
Philip worked himself into his coat.
"'Damnably' is not the word I should employ, but _n'importe_." He sat
down and started to pull on his boots. "I have enjoyed myself. I said I
should."
"Tare an' 'ouns, so have I! It's an age since I've had a sword in my
hand. I am indebted to you, sir."
"Yes, you are out of practice. I thank the kind fates for that!"
"Ay, I'd have kept you at it longer, but I don't know that the issue
would have been different. You must go?"
Philip picked up his hat.
"I must. I have to thank you for--"
"Oh, stuff! I'd no notion of holding Cleone to her promise, but I could
not resist the offer of a fight. I wish you could see how monstrous
amusing it was, though!"
Philip laughed.
"Had it been anyone but Cleone I might have been able to appreciate the
humour of the situation! I trust the wound will heal quickly."
"Oh, that's naught! A mere prick, but I was winded. Fare ye well,
Jettan. My felicitations! You felicitated me last night, did you not?"
He laughed.
"With black murder in my heart!" nodded Philip. "I do not say good bye,
but _au revoir_!"
"Here's my hand on it then--my left hand, alack!"
Philip grasped it. Brenderby accompanied him to the front door and
waved to him as he ran down the steps.
"_Bonne chance_, as you'd say yourself! _Au 'voir!_"
Philip waved back at him and turned to hail a passing chair. He
instructed the bearers to carry him to Jermyn Street.
It seemed that the luck was indeed with him, for he arrived just as
James was descending the steps of his house. Philip sprang out, paid
the chairmen, and took Winton's arm.
"My friend, a word with you!"
"Yes?" said James. "You seem excited, Philip."
"It's what I am, then. I've come to speak to you of Cleone."
James stiffened.
"I'll not give her up to that fellow Brenderby!" he said fiercely.
"It's more than flesh and blood can bear."
"Assuredly. But will you give her up to me?"
James turned to stare at him.
"You? But she is to wed Brenderby!"
"Ah, but no! that is at an end. Brenderby releases her. He is not so
bad a man as you think. _En effet_, I like him."
"I loathe the sight of him, drawling fop!"
"To-day I have seen him in another light. But that is not what I have
to say. Cleone does not wish to marry you, _mon enfant_, and it is
churlish to persist."
"I know she'll never marry me," answered James gloomily. "I only held
her to her word because I thought she'd have Brenderby if I did not."
"I understand. You'll release her--for me?"
"I suppose so. Why did you say naught last night?"
"There were reasons. They no longer exist. Come, Jamie, don't look so
glum! You are young yet."
"It's easy to say that. Oh, I knew I never had a chance with her! I
congratulate you, Philip."
Philip pressed his arm.
"My thanks. You're very generous! And now I must fly!"
"Where? May I accompany you?"
"Again many thanks, but no! I have an engagement. _Au revoir, mon
cher!_"