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 Tracy shrugged, meeting Carstares’ blade with his, and the fight went on.

Tracy’s eyes were almost shut, it appeared to Diana, his chin thrust forward, his teeth gripping the thin lower lip.

To her horror she saw that Carstares was breathing in gasps, and that his face was ashen in hue. It was torture to her to sit impotent, but she held herself in readiness to fly to his rescue should the need arise. Suddenly my lord feinted on both sides of the arm and ripped open the Duke’s sleeve, causing a steady trickle of blood to drip down on to the floor.

Tracy took no notice, but countered so deftly that John’s blade wavered, and he staggered back. For an instant it seemed as though the end had come, but somehow he steadied himself, recovering his guard.

Diana was on her feet now, nearly as white as her lover, her hands pressed to her breast. She saw that John’s point was no longer so purposeful, and the smile had gone from his lips. They were parted now, the upper one rigid, and a deep furrow cut into his brow.

Then, startling in the stillness of the great house, came the clanging of a bell, pulled with some violence.

Carstares’ white lips moved soundlessly, and Diana, guessing it to be her father, moved, clinging to the wall, towards the door.

A moment later along the passage came the sound of steps; a gay, boisterous voice was raised, followed by a deeper, graver one.

His Grace’s face became devilish in its expression, but Carstares took no notice, seeming not to hear. Only he thrust with such skill that his Grace was forced to fall back a pace. The loud voices demanded to know what was toward in the locked room, and Diana, knowing that my lord was nearly spent, beat upon the panels.

“Quickly, quickly!” she cried. “Break through, for heaven’s sake, whoever you are! ’Tis locked!”