"A hit, a palpable hit!" said a voice behind Margaret as she rose.
"Thou art dead for a ducat—dead, Friend de Courval."
"Ah," said Schmidt, "a critic. Does it look easy, Mr. de Forest?"
"'Well played!' cried Schmidt—'the jest and the rapier'"
"I am a man of peace, how shouldst I know? but the game looks easy." He threw up his head and stretched out his hand. "Let me look at the thing."
"Then take off your coat and put on a mask. But I shall not hurt you; there is no need for the mask."
He was quietly amused, and if only Nicholas Waln would come; for now the Quaker gentleman had put aside hat and coat, and in plainest gray homespun faced him, a stalwart, soldierly figure.