In an instant I was through the opening beside me, sword in hand. My enemy was in my grasp. We would fight out the quarrel below, with none but the dead to interrupt us. One of us would come out perhaps; he would have the field to himself; however it ended, the matter would be settled. If my lord fell, I would have the ground to myself; if he triumphed, it would not disturb me; if I fell beneath his sword, it could not matter to the dead. At the sound of my footsteps, he, not knowing who it was that followed, quickened his own. The dim light through the trap door died out, and we were treading in total darkness. Guided by the sound of his feet, I ran on after him. I had no wish to fight under DeNortier's chamber; some one might hear and interrupt us. I would wait until we got further on into the cavern, where we would be undisturbed. Several minutes passed; I judged that we were out of hearing, and raising my voice shouted: "Why hurry, my Lord? The night is young yet, and we have much to settle between us. Wait for me but a moment, and I will join thee." I heard him stop in the darkness. "Ha!" he said, "speak of the devil and we hear his wings. So that was thou who ran down after me into this black hole; thou must have been behind the arras and have heard all that I said. Well, no matter, dead men tell no tales," and he laughed, a ring of menace sounding in it. I thrust out in the darkness before me with my sword; he could not be far away, by the sound of his voice--but my blade only struck against the wall, the steel ringing as though struck by a hammer. I heard his footsteps move on down the tunnel. "Stop!" I cried, "I have long wished to settle several small matters with thee. If thou wilt but wait for me an instant, we will go out into the moonlight, and there we will cross blades and fight out our difference." "Why should I fight thee?" he answered, his voice coming from in front of me. "The game is mine; did I wish thee knifed, a dozen men stand ready to do it at my command. Why should I risk my life? I do not wish to kill thee, for I reserve thee for a more delicious fate," and his laugh, low and smothered, floated back to me. "Dog!" I cried, my anger getting the best of me--anger at the taunt--anger that my sword could not reach him. "Boast not, 'there be many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip.' I may not win my lady but thou at least shalt not have her. Rather would I see her dead than meet such a fate." "When thou beholdest her resting peacefully upon my breast, my arms around her, my lips pressed close to hers, then, and not till then, will I be content. Fear not. Only a few months, and thou wilt behold her mine. Till then--adieu!" and his footsteps moved again. Then silence.