Sir George moved toward me, and I thought at first he meant to attack me, for I had no sword. I put Lucille behind me, and then he seemed to see I had no weapon. Simon said something to his master in a low tone. Sir George turned angrily, and, in another instant the sailor was running across the sands. Presently he returned, bearing my sword and gun, which he handed me without a word of explanation.
“I pray your pardon,” said Sir George, “I saw not that your sword was gone. Now that you have it, let us to work to see who shall kill the other,” and he laughed such a cold, heartless, mirthless laugh that Lucille shuddered.
“Bah,” he went on, “what does it matter, after all. But come, ’tis cold standing idle after a bath in the sea, and I would be gone.”
He laughed again, perchance at the notion of going anywhere on the watery, sandy waste.
“Ha! Ha! Gone. Yes, I would be away, far away from here, had not the Eagle proved such a sorry craft.”
He swung his sword about him in a circle so that the point enscribed a little furrow in the sand.
Lucille looked on with horror in her eyes.
“Have no fear, love,” I said. “It will soon be over.”
“But how?” she asked.
“God knows,” I said.