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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Grey Cloak"

"
In a twinkling of an eye the bright tongues of steel met, flashed,
sparkled, ground upon each other, pressed and beat down. As the full
horror of the situation came to her, madame saw the figures reel, and
there were strangling sensations in her throat and bubbling noises in
her ears. The knife slipped from her fingers. She rocked on her
knees, sobbing. The power to pray had gone; she could only watch,
watch, watch. Ah God! if he should die before her eyes! Her hands
rose from her bosom and pressed against her cheeks. Dimly she could
hear the gonk-gonk of flying water-fowl: that murder should be done in
so fair a place!
The unequal duel went on. Presently The Fox stepped back, his arm
gashed. He cursed and took up his sword with his left hand. They
tried to lure the Chevalier from his vantage point; but he took no
step, forward or backward. He was like a wall. The old song of battle
hummed in his ears. Would that Victor were here. It would be a good
fight.
"These Perignys are living sword blades," murmured the vicomte. "Come,
come; this must end."
They were all hardy men, the blood was rich, the eye keen, the wrist
sure; but they could not break down the Chevalier's guard.


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