in its stillness and silence, loomed Falcon's powerful form. The dandy's light dress sword had been no match for his opponent's long, straight rapier. Plainly the foppish Londoner had gone down at the first onset; yet Lachlan could detect no trace of blood on Falcon's blade.
For a fraction of a second Lachlan's eyes scanned the steel for a tell-tale sign; then the slight figure of the girl, moving forward slowly as though in a daze, fixed his attention. He saw her stoop beside the prostrate man and bend low above him; and as she bowed her head, Lachlan dropped lightly to the ground within the garden.
A low hedge of evergreen cassena skirted the wall, forming an admirable screen. His footfalls made no sound as he ran swiftly parallel with the wall, bending forward to keep his head below the level of the young cassenas. Only a man trained in the woods could have stolen so silently through the dense clump of stiff-leafed canes close behind Captain Lance Falcon. When Lachlan leaped from the cover of the canes, he leaped upon an antagonist to whose ears no faintest warning had come.
Yet almost at once Lachlan knew that all the skill of his approach had not assured him the victory. His onset all but hurled Falcon to the ground; his long, sinewy arms pinioned those of his opponent. But the surge and heave of that wide-shouldered, longmuscled frame brought instant revelation of such strength as Lachlan had never before encountered.
