The troops, puzzled but not permitted to question, rode off in the direction of Cassel. Von Sungen, who had taken from one of them a second torch, now strode back to the barn with it. He found Dick ready for the contest, for which the barn floor presented a sufficient arena. The baron handed the second torch to Romberg, and silently made his preparations. The four who were to be spectators moved to where Antoine had already led the horses, at one end of the barn floor. The torches threw an uneven red light on the scene, leaving the surroundings, here obscure, and there entirely lost in shadow.
Dick and Von Sungen faced each other, without the least hatred, indeed with great esteem, but each determined to kill the other. The swords clashed. The advantage in duelling experience lay strongly with Von Sungen. Dick had fought only one duel, but he had recently resumed practice with the foils under a French fencing-master at Cassel. Moreover, Von Sungen was still fully under the excitement with which he had started on the pursuit, while with Dick this incident had been immediately preceded by so many scenes of danger that he could now face anything with calmness. So he fought cautiously, at first only guarding against the other's impetuous attack.
Finally the Baron's exertions began to tell upon him, and a wild thrust betrayed either that his eye was no longer true, or that his brain had lost perfect control of his arm. Dick felt it was now but a matter of time that the Baron should lay himself open to a decisive lunge.
Suddenly the barn door was flung open from the outside, and two men stepped unceremoniously in, armed with swords and pistols, and the second one bearing a torch.
"Aha!" cried the first, flashing up his sword. "I thought you might be in danger!" And he ran to the aid of Von Sungen.
"Curse you for meddling against orders!" cried the Baron, enraged at this assistance. "Don't interfere, I command you!"
And the fight went on, between Von Sungen and Wetheral. The Baron's officer, who had come back with one of the horse-guards,—on what pretext was never known,—stepped aside, amazed. But in a few moments this officer whispered something to the horse-guard with him, and the latter started for the door. By this time Romberg and Antoine had both run past the fighters and neared the door. Antoine, unwilling to make a noise by firing a shot, thrust his torch into the departing soldier's face, and then felled the suddenly blinded man to the floor with a blow of his pistol. The interfering officer, with a fierce oath, instantly ran his sword through Antoine's body, drawing it immediately out to defend himself against Romberg, who had lost time in finding a place for his torch. The old servant fell dead across the soldier he had knocked senseless, and the torches of the two blazed up from the ground. Romberg and the officer now had a rapid exchange of thrusts, the two being evenly matched. But a sharp cry, from a few feet away, drew for an instant the attention of the officer, and Romberg's sword, piercing his lung, stretched him on the floor near the other two prostrate bodies.
The cry that the officer had heard was the death cry of Von Sungen, who now lay silent and motionless at Dick's feet.
"Poor Baroness von Lüderwaldt!" said Dick, gently, wiping his sword with a wisp of hay.
Catherine seized Dick's hand, and pressed it in silence, then ran over towards Antoine.