but before they interposed, the fight was ended.

Blunt, grinding his teeth, struck one undercut at his opponent--the
same undercut that Myles had that time struck at Sir James Lee at the
knight's bidding when he first practised at the Devlen pels. Myles
met the blow as Sir James had met the blow that he had given, and then
struck in return as Sir James had struck--full and true. The bascinet
that Blunt wore glanced the blow partly, but not entirely. Myles felt
his sword bite through the light steel cap, and Blunt dropped his own
blade clattering upon the floor. It was all over in an instant, but in
that instant what he saw was stamped upon Myles's mind with an indelible
imprint. He saw the young man stagger backward; he saw the eyes roll
upward; and a red streak shoot out from under the cap and run down
across the cheek.

Blunt reeled half around, and then fell prostrate upon his face; and
Myles stood staring at him with the delirious turmoil of his battle
dissolving rapidly into a dumb fear at that which he had done.

Once again he had won the victory--but what a victory! "Is he dead?" he
whispered to Gascoyne.

"I know not," said Gascoyne, with a very pale face. "But come away,
Myles." And he led his friend out of the room.

Some little while later one of the bachelors came to the dormitory where
Myles, his wounds smarting and aching and throbbing, lay stretched upon
his cot, and with a very serious face bade him to go presently to Sir
James, who had just come from dinner, and was then in his office.