beyond human power to endure, and...." He shrugged to complete his
sentence.

"Well, well," said Oliver in a small voice. "First let us tend this
wound of yours."

"Do not call Nick," was the other's swift admonition. "Don't you see,
Noll?" he explained in answer to the inquiry of his brother's stare,
"don't you see that we fought there almost in the dark and without
witnesses. It...." he swallowed, "it will be called murder, fair fight
though it was; and should it be discovered that it was I...." He
shivered and his glance grew wild; his lips twitched.

"I see," said Oliver, who understood at last, and he added bitterly:
"You fool!"

"I had no choice," protested Lionel. "He came at me with his drawn
sword. Indeed, I think he was half-drunk. I warned him of what must
happen to the other did either of us fall, but he bade me not concern
myself with the fear of any such consequences to himself. He was full
of foul words of me and you and all whoever bore our name. He struck me
with the flat of his blade and threatened to run me through as I stood
unless I drew to defend myself. What choice had I? I did not mean to
kill him--as God's my witness, I did not, Noll."

Without a word Oliver turned to a side-table, where stood a metal basin
and ewer. He poured water, then came in the same silence to treat his
brother's wound. The tale that Lionel told made blame impossible, at
least from Oliver. He had but to recall the mood in which he himself
had ridden after Peter Godolphin; he had but to remember, that only the