Disdaining to meet him at any advantage, Edgar flung away the fragments of his lance, seized Sir John’s heavy battleaxe, and slipped lightly from the saddle. Scarce had he faced Sir Gervaise when the furious knight was upon him with sword up-raised. Knowing that his battleaxe was almost useless for defence, Edgar heeded not the blow, but, half-turning, swung his own heavy weapon sideways at his opponent’s head. The knight’s blow fell first with a stroke that bit deep into Edgar’s casque, but before De Maupas could spring back out of reach, the axe stroke smote him on the side of his helmet with a weight and momentum that sent him crashing headlong to the ground. A dull roar of applause arose from the whole circle of the lists. Dropping his axe, Edgar snatched his dagger from his belt and sprang towards the fallen man. Kneeling upon his chest he cried aloud: "Yield thee vanquished, Sir Gervaise de Maupas!" Then in a low voice, but in tones thrilling with resolve, he went on, "_Tell me where Sir John if, or thy life is forfeit!_" There was no response. "Desist, Sir John," cried one of the marshals of the lists, hurriedly approaching, "he is stunned, if not dead. Thou art acknowledged victor--retire while we see to the stricken man." Heavy with disappointment at being thwarted at the moment when he hoped all might be won, Edgar mechanically mounted and rode slowly round the lists. The air still rang with the plaudits of the spectators, and, as he passed along, loud cries reached him, some, wishing to do him the more honour, calling upon him to unhelm. Fearing that his refusal at least to lower his vizor might cause some adverse comment, Edgar dropped it an inch or so and left it, hoping that it might be thought that the blow his headpiece had received had damaged the hinges of his vizor. With a final salute, first to the earl and then to the Wolsingham ladies, he rode dully from the lists. The cheers of the spectators fell on deaf ears, for though he had defeated Sir Gervaise and upheld Sir John’s honour, he felt that he was still as far as ever from solving the mystery of his master’s disappearance. As he reached the door of his tent, Matthew and Peter came running up, their faces wreathed with smiles at their young master’s victory. "Aid me to strip off this armour," cried Edgar, the moment he had entered the tent, "and remember that Sir John is gone--gone upon the visit to Faucigny Castle, in the lands of the lady Beatrice, that he has had all along in mind. He gained the earl’s permission some time since, as he told me himself. Thus at least we gain some precious days in which to continue our enquiries." "Pardon, Master Edgar," cried Peter, suddenly stopping, "with thy permission I will hie me to Sir Gervaise’s tent. It may well be that this is a time when it might advantage us to keep close watch upon those about him."