man stood swaying, pinned there by his foot and held erect. Then he made
one desperate lunge, fell forward across the barricade, and hung there.
Wogan parried the lunge; the sword fell from the man's hand and
clattered onto the floor within the barricade. Wogan stamped upon it
with his heel and snapped the blade. He had still two opponents; and as
they advanced again he suddenly sprung onto the edge of the table, gave
one sweeping cut in a circle with his sword, and darted across the room.
The two men gave ground; Wogan passed between them. Before they could
strike at his back he was facing them again. He had no longer his
barricade, but on the other hand his shoulders were against the door.

The swordsman crossed blades with him, and at the first pass Wogan
realised with dismay that his enemy was a swordsman in knowledge as well
as in the possession of the weapon. He had a fencer's suppleness of
wrist and balance of body; he pressed Wogan hard and without flurry. The
blade of his sword made glittering rings about Wogan's, and the point
struck at his breast like an adder.

Wogan was engaged with his equal if not with his better. He was fighting
for his life with one man, and he would have to fight for it with two,
nay, with three. For over his opponent's shoulder he saw his first
polite antagonist cross to the table and pick up from the ground the
broken sword. One small consolation Wogan had; the fellow picked it up
with his left hand, his right elbow was still useless. But even that
consolation lasted him for no long time, for out of the tail of his eye
he could see the big fellow creeping up with his stick raised along the
wall at his right.

Wogan suddenly pressed upon his opponent, delivering thrust upon thrust,
and forced him to give ground. As the swordsman drew back, Wogan swept