Redgill, thinking that he had his antagonist safe, and need not fear his repeated thrusts, stepped still closer.
This was what Ned Warbeck had long wanted him to do, but had so disguised his wish that Redgill could not understand the trick.
“I’ll play with you no longer,” said Redgill, with a laugh of triumph. “You have ever been a snake in my path; now, Ned Warbeck, die like a dog!”
With a shout of derision, and with eyes glaring in deadly hate and rage, he rushed upon Ned, and a terrible struggle ensued.
With the stroke of Vulcan, young Warbeck struck down Redgill’s sword point, and at the same moment Phillip Redgill fell to the earth with a loud groan.
Ned Warbeck’s sword had been buried to the hilt in Phillip’s body.
A loud shout applauded this unexpected stroke of good-fortune.
“Brave lad!”
“Hurrah for Wildfire Ned!”
“Good luck to you, young Warbeck!” resounded on all sides.