“Good Gad! ’tis a woman!” exclaimed the voice. “Listen, Dick!—why—why—’tis a fight!”
“Oh, be quick!” implored poor Diana.
And then came the deeper voice: “Stand away, madam, we will burst the lock.”
She moved quickly aside, turning her attention once more to the duel by the window, as Andrew flung his shoulder against the stout wood. At the third blow the lock gave, the door flew wide, and Lord Andrew was precipitated into the room.
And the two by the window fought on unheeding, faster and faster.
“Well, I’m damned!” said Andrew, surveying them. He walked forward interestedly, and at the same moment caught sight of Jack’s face. He stared in amazement, and called to Richard.
“Good Lord! Here! Dick! Come here! Surely it’s—who is that man?”
Diana saw the tall gentleman, so like her lover in appearance, step forward to the young rake’s side. The next events happened in a flash. She heard a great cry, and before she had time to know what he was doing, Richard had whipped his sword from its scabbard and had struck up the two blades. In that moment the years rolled back, and, recognising his brother. Jack gasped furiously:
“Damn—you—Dick! Out—of—the way!”
Tracy stood leaning on his sword, watching, his breath coming in gasps, but still with that cynical smile on his lips.
Richard, seeing that his brother would fly at the Duke again, closed with him, struggling to wrest the rapier from his weakened grasp.
“You fool, John, leave go! Leave go, I say!”
With a twist he had the sword in his hand and sent it spinning across the room as without a sound my lord crumpled up and fell with a thud to the floor.
