himself.
“I have thought of that, of course,” he said calmly, “but I think that I know you too well. For you had rather die, Guadalmo, than have men know that you cried out for help against a single man!”
“Come, come!” exclaimed the Spaniard. “The time flies. If the bound guards are found and I am missed, there will be a noise at once!”
“That is true.
Señor
, on guard!”
Their blades whipped up in a formal salute; continuing the same motion, Guadalmo passed on into a murderous lunge. Only a backward stroke saved Taki from that treacherous move.
“Ah, murderer!” he breathed. “This is your beginning!”
“Save your breath for your work. You shall have plenty of it!” said Guadalmo, and attacked instantly.
He came in with the reckless abandon of one accustomed to looking upon his narrow rapier as a secure wall of steel against his enemy’s point. And the blade of Taki met his with a continual harsh clattering. Neither would give back. They pressed on to half sword length.
“Ha!” cried the Spaniard through his teeth, and delivered an upward thrust at the throat against which there seemed no possible ward.
But Taki found one. With his bare hand he knocked aside the darting weapon. He stepped in with the same movement and crushed Guadalmo against his breast. The hug of the bear could not have been more paralyzing.
“I am a dead man! God receive me!” gasped out Guadalmo as the point of the shortened sword appeared at his throat.
“With that stroke,
señor”
said Taki, “you killed Antonio Cadoral in Padua. Tonight it has failed you. What else have you left?”
He cast the helpless man away.
“Breathe again, Guadalmo,” he said. “Now,
señor
, your utmost skill.”
“Devil!” groaned Guadalmo. “You have only a minute to live!”
And he attacked not recklessly, but with the utmost deadliness of finesse, working as though a picture were being drawn by the point of his weapon. It became a play of double lightning, the two blades flashing in the moonshine.
But the minute passed and Taki still lived, and without giving ground. He began to talk again as they worked, as one who held his task lightly.
“Señor Guadalmo, there is a grove near Toledo where a gallant gentleman, Juan Jaratta, met you without seconds. You killed him with foul play…a sudden thrust when by mutual agreement you had lowered your swords to take a breath.”
“It is false!” snarled out Guadalmo. “Besides, there was no human eye near to take note of such a thing.”
“I, however, was nearby, and watched.”
“You are the devil, then!”
“As you please. But beware, Guadalmo! For the sake of Jaratta, I am about to touch you over the heart!”
“I defy you!”
The rapier in the hand of Taki darted out as the hummingbird darts toward the deep mouth of a flower—and as the hummingbird stops dead in mid flight and then shoots forward again, a mere flash of rainbow color and sheen, so the blade of Taki paused and drove beneath the parry of Guadalmo and the keen point pricked him on the breast.
“Damnation!” gasped out Guadalmo, and quickly leaped backward with all his power.
He began to perspire with the weakness not of exhaustion, but of despair and fear.
“We have only begun,” said Taki. “There was in Nice, on a time, a young gentleman from the American colonies of England. He had loaned you money, Guadalmo, and when your time came to repay it, you found a quarrel with him and met him outside the city on a broad green lawn. There were great flowers planted around the lawn. As the dawn grew clear, you could see their colors…golden-yellow, bronze, and deepest scarlet. Do you remember?”
“If I remember, you shall soon forget. So!”
“A good thrust,” said Taki, putting the stroke aside with a flick of his own blade. “And a favorite in Bologna.
With it, in fact, you killed the poor gentleman. And, for his sake, another touch above the heart
Who can escape the leap of the
“I have thought of that, of course,” he said calmly, “but I think that I know you too well. For you had rather die, Guadalmo, than have men know that you cried out for help against a single man!”
“Come, come!” exclaimed the Spaniard. “The time flies. If the bound guards are found and I am missed, there will be a noise at once!”
“That is true.
Señor
, on guard!”
Their blades whipped up in a formal salute; continuing the same motion, Guadalmo passed on into a murderous lunge. Only a backward stroke saved Taki from that treacherous move.
“Ah, murderer!” he breathed. “This is your beginning!”
“Save your breath for your work. You shall have plenty of it!” said Guadalmo, and attacked instantly.
He came in with the reckless abandon of one accustomed to looking upon his narrow rapier as a secure wall of steel against his enemy’s point. And the blade of Taki met his with a continual harsh clattering. Neither would give back. They pressed on to half sword length.
“Ha!” cried the Spaniard through his teeth, and delivered an upward thrust at the throat against which there seemed no possible ward.
But Taki found one. With his bare hand he knocked aside the darting weapon. He stepped in with the same movement and crushed Guadalmo against his breast. The hug of the bear could not have been more paralyzing.
“I am a dead man! God receive me!” gasped out Guadalmo as the point of the shortened sword appeared at his throat.
“With that stroke,
señor”
said Taki, “you killed Antonio Cadoral in Padua. Tonight it has failed you. What else have you left?”
He cast the helpless man away.
“Breathe again, Guadalmo,” he said. “Now,
señor
, your utmost skill.”
“Devil!” groaned Guadalmo. “You have only a minute to live!”
And he attacked not recklessly, but with the utmost deadliness of finesse, working as though a picture were being drawn by the point of his weapon. It became a play of double lightning, the two blades flashing in the moonshine.
But the minute passed and Taki still lived, and without giving ground. He began to talk again as they worked, as one who held his task lightly.
“Señor Guadalmo, there is a grove near Toledo where a gallant gentleman, Juan Jaratta, met you without seconds. You killed him with foul play…a sudden thrust when by mutual agreement you had lowered your swords to take a breath.”
“It is false!” snarled out Guadalmo. “Besides, there was no human eye near to take note of such a thing.”
“I, however, was nearby, and watched.”
“You are the devil, then!”
“As you please. But beware, Guadalmo! For the sake of Jaratta, I am about to touch you over the heart!”
“I defy you!”
The rapier in the hand of Taki darted out as the hummingbird darts toward the deep mouth of a flower—and as the hummingbird stops dead in mid flight and then shoots forward again, a mere flash of rainbow color and sheen, so the blade of Taki paused and drove beneath the parry of Guadalmo and the keen point pricked him on the breast.
“Damnation!” gasped out Guadalmo, and quickly leaped backward with all his power.
He began to perspire with the weakness not of exhaustion, but of despair and fear.
“We have only begun,” said Taki. “There was in Nice, on a time, a young gentleman from the American colonies of England. He had loaned you money, Guadalmo, and when your time came to repay it, you found a quarrel with him and met him outside the city on a broad green lawn. There were great flowers planted around the lawn. As the dawn grew clear, you could see their colors…golden-yellow, bronze, and deepest scarlet. Do you remember?”
“If I remember, you shall soon forget. So!”
“A good thrust,” said Taki, putting the stroke aside with a flick of his own blade. “And a favorite in Bologna.
With it, in fact, you killed the poor gentleman. And, for his sake, another touch above the heart
Who can escape the leap of the
Similar Books
