With a fierce oath the man pushed his way through those in front of him and drew his sword. He threw back his cloak to obtain the full use of his sword arm, and the rich gold braiding of his doublet confirmed the opinion Hector had already formed as to his identity.
“That is better, my lord duke; it is at least more honourable to fight in your own quarrels than to employ a band of assassins to do your work.”
With a roar of fury Beaufort rushed upon him. He was a good swordsman, and personally brave, but his rage neutralized his skill, and after parrying two or three of his lunges Hector repeated the thrust with which he had that morning disabled de Vipont, and ran his assailant through the shoulder. He fell back with a curse.
“Kill him! kill him!” he shouted. But at that moment there was a cry, “The watch! the watch!” Four of the fellows caught up the wounded man and carried him off, some of the others skirmishing with the watch to hinder their advance.
“To the inn!” Hector cried to his men, “leave the matter to the watch.”
And sheathing their weapons they ran on to the door of the hotel and obtained entry there before the watch came up. As soon as they had passed Hector said, “Come with me, Paolo, and see the cardinal; there is no fear of any renewal of the attack now.
“Do you know who it was I wounded, Paolo?” he asked as they hurried along.
“No, master, I was too busy myself to look round.”
“It was Beaufort himself; I ran him through, low down in the shoulder.”
Paolo uttered an exclamation of dismay.