Lord Maltravers lunged in carte, but his thrust was delicately foiled by his opponent, who parried it skillfully.
A long strip of plaster hid the cut on his lordship's face, which was ghastly white and terribly in earnest.
For some minutes they fenced with the adroitness of veteran swordsmen, neither gaining the slightest advantage, though a hectic spot which appeared on Maltravers's face, indicated that his mind was less at ease than Jack's.
Suddenly Jack ceased to act on the defensive and became the aggressor, breaking down his lordship's guard and pinking him slightly in the left arm.
"First blood!" said Harvey; "are you satisfied?"
"Confound it, no. This is a duel to the death," replied Maltravers, his face distorted with passion.
"As you please," replied Jack.
Again, they faced one another, the wounded man having hastily tied a piece of his shirt sleeve round his arm.
The swords clashed in the bright morning sunshine, which every moment became brighter.
In vain Maltravers strove to injure his enemy. Each thrust was parried and he panted with exertion, while tears of impotent rage started to his eyes.