"You will not risk yourself."
"I promise. I have already promised Jeremy, though it makes me ready to call myself a coward."
"You—a coward! And that wretched man?"
"He has Jeremy to deal with. He had better have faced the Devil himself."
There was the noise of men running, and Steyning and young Parsloe appeared in the moonlight, having left their men to guard De Rothan's servants. Jasper hailed them as they came up.
"All's well here. Jack Parsloe, man, will you bide with Miss Durrell while I join Jeremy?"
The youngster raised his hat and bowed to Nance. Jasper and Steyning hastened on to where Winter and Surgeon Stott faced De Rothan.
It was a grim group, imperturbable and pitiless. Jeremy was speaking to Stott with the cool and matter-of-fact air of a man arranging a dinner party. De Rothan's was the only restless figure. He fidgeted with his sword, and kept moving his head as though his cravat were too tight for him. His mouth was dry; his eyes shadowy in a sullen and bloodless face.
He looked hard at Jasper with a sudden malicious shrewdness.
"Mr. Benham, you have often uttered big words to me. There was that little bout of ours in Darvel's Wood. I am ready to renew it."