"Do you still think," he answered coldly, "that I would beg off?"

With a hopeless gesture of impatience, Heywood stepped forward briskly.
"Very well, then. Once more." And as their blades clashed softly
together, a quick light danced in his eyes. "Here's how our friend will
stick you!" His point cut a swift little circle, and sped home. By a
wild instinct, the novice beat it awkwardly aside. His friend laughed,
poised again, disengaged again, but in mid-career of this heartless
play, stumbled and came pitching forward. Rudolph darted back, swept his
arm blindly, and cried out; for with the full impetus of the mishap, a
shock had run from wrist to elbow. He dropped his sword, and in
stupefaction watched the red blood coursing down his forearm, and his
third finger twitching convulsively, beyond control.

"Dear fellow!" cried his opponent, scrambling upright. "So sorry! I say,
that's a bad one." With a stick and a handkerchief, he twisted on a
tourniquet, muttering condolence: "Pain much? Lost my balance, you know.
That better?--What a clumsy accident!" Then, dodging out from the
plantain screen, and beckoning,--"All you chaps! Come over here!"

Nesbit came running, but at sight of the bloody victim, pulled up short.
"What ho!" he whispered, first with a stare, then a grin of mysterious
joy. Sturgeon gave a sympathetic whistle, and stolidly unwound bandages.
At first the two Napoleons remained aloof, but at last, yielding to
indignant shouts, haughtily approached. The little group stood at fault.

Heywood wiped his sword-blade very carefully on a plantain leaf; then
stood erect, to address them with a kind of cool severity.

"I regret this more than anybody," he declared, pausing, and picking his