Simon Raby stood only a moment on the threshold; a single glance at the interior of the room, at Betty, at Master Cross-Eyes, lying prostrate, and at the furious face of Henge, sufficed to tell him all. The next instant his sword flashed in the air like a ribbon of steel, and he sprang upon Sir Barton with the fury of revenge.
“You villain!” he cried, “was it not enough to send me to the Tower, but you must also insult and injure women?”
“Curse you!” answered Henge, between his teeth, “this shall be the end of you, you fool!”
“By heaven!” exclaimed Raby, as their swords crossed, “’twill be either you or I!”
Both were powerful men and good swordsmen, and it being the second time that they had fought, each knew something of the other’s play. Henge was spent from his struggle with the groom and Raby had felt the effects of the long imprisonment, but both fought with furious zeal, and knowing that death was in the issue, they put out all their skill. Foot to foot and eye to eye, they thrust and parried; Raby taking the offensive and using the point as he endeavored to strike under his adversary’s guard, but Henge was one of the finest swordsmen of the court and parried every blow with marvellous rapidity and skill. The breath of both came short, the drops of perspiration gathered on Henge’s forehead, while Lord Raby’s face paled about the lips. It was but the different way in which each showed the strain. So determined was Simon’s onset, that he drove Sir Barton back step by step toward the table, meaning to trip him and so have him at his mercy; but Henge knew the trap that was set for him and swerved to one side, dealing at the same instant so dexterous a blow that he nearly disarmed his opponent. There was no sound in the room but the clash of swords and the labored breathing of the two combatants. It was a spectacle worth seeing, the equal contest of two expert fencers. For a few moments Betty Carew had remained at her post by the window, so amazed at Raby’s entrance, so alarmed for his safety, that it paralyzed her senses. But at the sight of Sir Barton’s apparent gain, she awoke from her trance and ran to them, throwing herself on Henge’s sword arm with all her strength; but he took his weapon in his left hand and parried Raby’s blows while endeavoring to shake her off.
“Let be, my darling!” Simon cried; “I dare not strike freely with you in the way; let be—and I will end it.”
But Mistress Betty would scarcely have obeyed him but for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She ran out into the hall to learn whether it was friend or foe, and saw, to her amazement, old Madam’s hawk face upon the landing, and behind her the captain of the watch and two more armed men. Betty cried out with joyful surprise.
“Help, help!” she exclaimed, “here is the villain Henge trying to murder Simon Raby.”
“This all comes of Raby’s mad haste!” retorted Lady Crabtree; “’tis ever so with fools and lovers.”
But while she stayed to scold, the captain of the watch and Betty had hurried back into the room. As they reached the entrance, however, there was a heavy fall, and they found Simon Raby standing with his foot on Sir Barton’s breast and the point of his sword at his throat, while Master Cross-Eyes, who had recovered from his swoon, sat up, staring blankly at the changed scene. The captain of the watch uttered an exclamation and hurried forward.