“Monsieur Villefort and I will now leave you,” said the Admiral. “As soon as we close the door, you are at liberty to change your positions, but you must not attack each other until you hear us cry Time! Five minutes thereafter, we shall open the door, and the contest must stop as soon as you see the light.”
In about a minute, the Admiral and M. Villefort cried in unison:
“TIME!”
Count Mont d’Oro scuffled his feet upon the floor to give his opponent the idea that he had changed his position. Victor stood his axe up in the corner, reached the beam above him with both hands, drew himself up slowly, and assumed a sitting posture upon it. The Count struck out vigorously in front and to the right and left. He then took a circuit around the room, striking out in front, and then whirling about, he made vicious slashes at his unseen enemy. He next swung the axe about in a circle, but it met with no resistance.
Victor sneezed loudly. This so startled the Count, for the sound seemed very close to him, that he started back, coming in violent contact with the side of the building, bruising himself quite severely. He then advanced cautiously on tiptoe across the room. As he neared the corner where Victor was, the latter took his hat from his head and threw it down, necessarily at random. It chanced to strike the Count full in the face. He started back, a cry of affright escaping from him involuntarily. The Fates were against him. There was just one rotten plank in the floor of the building, and upon that the Count stepped. It broke beneath his weight. Finding himself falling, and realising that his foot was caught in some way, he gave a violent pull and succeeded in wrenching his ankle so badly that when he tried to stand up he was forced to succumb to the intense pain, and fell prone upon the floor.
Realising that his opponent had met with some misadventure, Victor dropped from his perch, and, grasping his axe, stood upon the defensive. At that moment, the door was pushed open and the bright light of the lantern thrown upon the scene.
M. Villefort espied the form of the Count upon the floor and, rushing to him, gave him a sup of brandy from a flask which he had thoughtfully brought with him. The Admiral paid no attention to the Count, but sought the corner where Victor stood.
“Bless my soul!” cried the Admiral. “Are you a whole man?”
“I believe so, but somewhat played out,” said Victor, and he leaned heavily upon the axe handle.
“But are you sure that you have all your limbs about you?”