Jennifer nodded. "So I told him." And then: "There was no surgeon to be
had in town, Dr. Carew having gone with the Minute Men to join Mr.
Rutherford. Tybee says 'tis scarce in accordance with the later rulings
to fight without one."

"To the devil with their hairsplittings!" said I. "Let us have done with
them and be at it."

Falconnet was removing his coat, and I stripped mine. The seconds chose
the ground where the turf was short and firm, and yet yielding enough to
give good footing. We faced each other, my antagonist baring an arm
which, despite the bejeweled hand, was to the full as big-muscled as my
own. My glance went from his weapon, a rather heavy German blade,
straight and slender-pointed, to his face. He was smiling as one who
strives to make the outer man a mask to cover all emotion, and the
plasters on his cheek drew the smile into a grimace that was all but
devilish.

The seconds fell back, but when Jennifer would have given the signal I
stopped him.

"One moment, if you please. Sir Francis Falconnet, you know me?"

The thin-lidded eyes were veiled for an instant, and then he lied
smoothly.

"Your pardon, Captain Ireton; I have not that honor."

"'Tis a small matter, but you do lie this morning as basely as you lied
to Richard Coverdale nine years agone," said I; and then I signed