The eyes of François L’Estrange took on a light of keener interest as the bout progressed. He watched the stranger from the first, having confidence in the ability of his pupil, and silently praying from the outset that Merriwell would not be too easily overcome. Satisfaction, not anxiety, took possession of him as he began to realize that Frank possessed unusual knowledge of the art, and was capable of putting that knowledge to clever use. The Frenchman continued to believe that Darleton would finish the victor. The two young men advanced, retreated, circled, feinted, engaged, disengaged—all the time on the alert for the moment when one or the other should launch himself into the encounter in earnest. The foils clicked and hissed, now high, now low. At intervals the fencers stamped lightly with the foot advanced. “_Mon Dieu!_” muttered L’Estrange, still watching Merriwell. “Who taught him so much!” Suddenly, like a throb of electricity, Darleton made a direct lunge—and the real engagement was on. L’Estrange’s pupil was led into the lunge through the belief that Merry had exposed himself unconsciously in the line in which he was engaged. Quick as the fellow was, it seemed that Frank had known what to expect. He made no sweeping parry, but, quicker than the eye could follow, he altered the position of his foil by fingering and turned Darleton’s lunge. Following this with almost incredible swiftness, Merry scored fair and full in quinte. L’Estrange suppressed an exclamation of displeasure, for he realized his pupil had been decoyed and led to expose himself. Too much confidence in himself and too little regard for the skill of his opponent had caused Darleton to give Merry this chance to score. “Touch!” exclaimed Darleton, with a mingling of surprise and dismay. He recovered instantly, a bitter expression settling about his tightened lips. “So you fooled me!” he thought. “I’ll pay you for that! It may be your undoing, Mr. Merriwell!” He believed Frank would become overconfident through this early success; but he did not know Merriwell, whose observation and experience had long ago told him that overconfidence was the rock on which many a chap has stranded in sight of victory. Darleton was in earnest, now; there was no more fooling. He sought for an opening. Failing to find it, he tried to lead Frank into attacking and leaving an opening. Merry pretended to attack, but it was only a feint. When Darleton parried and tried the riposte, his thrust was met and turned. Then Frank attacked in earnest, and his button caught his opponent in tierce. Darleton leaped away, but did not acknowledge the touch. Instead, he claimed that Merriwell had simply reached his right shoulder, which did not count. L’Estrange’s pupil was white to the lips now. He could not understand why he had failed, and he felt that there must be many among the spectators who would maintain that he had been unfair in claiming he was not fairly touched the second time.