“Yes,” he said. “We have a little argument to settle between us. You will remember we began one but never finished.”
De Marsac flashed a look of hate at the man.
“I have not done with him there,” he said, pointing at André. “After this——”
The stranger grinned and raised his brows.
“From what I have seen, De Marsac, there may be no ‘after this’,” he said. “You know how disappointed I would feel to see you die!—that is by hands other than my own! Would you have me call you a coward in the presence of these witnesses?”
“‘Coward’?” echoed our enemy. “You can’t say that. You know I fought you like a man until——”
The stranger mocked him again.
“Yes,” he said. “You did. That is—until you ran away!”
De Marsac’s eyes sought the ground. He was like a rat that is cornered. A heavy frown crossed his brows and he ground his teeth in rage.
“Come!” The man in black coaxed him. “I shall give you every advantage. You have a sword there in your hand. I have only an oaken staff. Could I offer you easier terms?”