"For Mr. Law--"

"But I am John Law, sirrah!"

"You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
to the first Mr. Law, sir."

"He is coming, then," cried John Law, angrily. "I'll see into this
pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!"

Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
form alike solid strength and great activity. "Jessamy Law," they called
him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang