“More than satisfied in this line. You are the quickest man I ever saw. Your foot-work is something marvelous.”
Was that strange contortion of the scarred face a smile caused by Roland Packard’s words?
“You say you can fence?” Packard went on. “Merriwell is the champion here since he defeated Defarge.”
“Defarge was the champion before?”
“So called.”
“But Merriwell has a thrust of his own that I am unable to avoid,” Defarge confessed. “I have practised it since till I am sure I can make the lead quite as well as Merriwell himself.”
“Try it on me,” invited the stranger. “Have you a suit I can get into? I see you have a set of foils, masks, and protectors.”
Defarge had several suits. He brought two of them out, and ten minutes later the two young men were prepared for a fencing-bout, while Packard had retired to a corner, where he sat on a chair and watched.
“On guard,” said Hawkins.
They were ready.