“Surely you don’t mean the affair was with him?”
“I do—it was.”
“He got the better of you?”
“Quick as you could count ten.”
“Zounds! that’s strange—you such a swordsman! But still stranger what I see now, your being in his company. Not his prisoner, are you?”
“Well, in a way I am.”
“In that case, cousin, my sword’s at your service. So let me try conclusions with him. Possibly, I may get you a revanche; at the same time release you from any parole you may be under.”
Though, but the moment before, some little cowed, and declining a combat with serving men, Reginald Trevor was all courage now; and feared not to meet a gentleman in fair fight. For he saw that Trevor blood had been spilt, and, although he and his cousin Eustace had never been bosom friends, they were yet of the same family. The hot Cymric blood that ran in the veins of both boiled up in his to avenge whatever defeat his kinsman might have sustained, and without awaiting answer he asked impatiently,—
“Shall I follow, and flout him, Eust? I will if you but say the word.”
“No, Rej; nothing of the sort. Thank you all the same.”