Suddenly, after some quick passes, Drake made a rapid stroke. I thought that Fabian must have been struck in the chest, but, warding off the blow, he struck Harry Drake’s sword smartly. The latter raised and covered himself by a swift semi-circle; whilst the lightning rent the clouds overhead.
Suddenly, and without anything to explain this strange surrender of himself, Fabian dropped his sword. Had he been mortally wounded without our noticing it? The blood rushed wildly to my heart. Fabian’s eyes had grown singularly animated.
“Defend yourself,” roared Drake, drawing himself up like a tiger ready to spring on to his prey.
I thought that it was all over with Fabian, disarmed as he was. Corsican threw himself between him and his enemy, to prevent the latter from striking a defenceless man; but now Harry Drake in his turn stood motionless.
I turned, and saw Ellen, pale as death, her hands stretched out, coming towards the duellists. Fabian, fascinated by this apparition, remained perfectly still.
“You! you!” cried Harry Drake to Ellen; “you here!”
I TURNED, AND SAW ELLEN, PALE AS DEATH.
His uplifted blade gleamed as though on fire; one might have said it was the sword of the archangel Michael in the hands of a demon.
Suddenly a brilliant flash of lightning lit up the whole stern. I was almost knocked down, and felt suffocated, for the air was filled with sulphur; but by a powerful effort I regained my senses.