Dorothy stood at the foot of the passage, her hands held tightly against her breast; the taper had fallen to the floor, and she was in darkness. Then she heard the voice of Gervase at the door.
“Out of my way or I will run you through; I must enter.”
“By your leave you shall not. My master must fight this out; I´ve taught him to fence, and I´ll see that he gets fair play.”
It was the voice of Swartz. Gervase had found the man at the door listening to the sound of the strife within.
“Out of my way,” said Gervase, losing his temper.
“Damn you! I tell you I shall not stir. The Frenchman hath robbed my master and he´ll pay dearly for it to-night. No man in Londonderry will pass the door till he hath settled with that thief.”
Gervase was in no humour for temporizing at this moment. He caught the old servant by the throat and with a quick movement hurled him to the other side of the passage. Then placing his shoulder against the door and exerting all his strength, the strong framework fell in with a crash. The room was in complete darkness and he stood to listen. There was not a sound. Then Dorothy came down the passage with a light.
“You must not come any further, Miss Carew,” said Gervase, advancing to meet her, with a white face. “I am sure something has happened.” He took the light from her and entered the room, Swartz who had picked himself up muttering a malediction, following close on his heels. Lying in the middle of the room in a dark pool of blood was De Laprade, while Jasper Carew stood over the body, with the point of his rapier on the ground and his hands resting on the handle.
“I killed him in fair fight,” he said as Gervase came into the room, and running over, knelt down by the fallen man. Gervase opened the Vicomte´s coat and placed his hand on his heart; it was still beating feebly.
“He is not dead yet. For God´s sake run for the surgeon; he may yet be saved,” he cried, turning to Swartz who stood behind him.