Steel struck upon steel; the sparks flew; and the evil smile upon Diggle’s face became fixed as he saw that Desmond was no match for him in swordsmanship. But it changed when he found that though his young opponent’s science was at fault, his strength and dexterity, his wariness in avoiding a close attack, served him in good stead. Impatient to finish the fight, he took a step forward, and lunged so rapidly that Desmond could hardly have escaped his blade but for an accident. There was a choking sob to his right, and just as Diggle’s sword was flashing towards him a heavy form fell against the blade and upon Desmond. In the course of their deadly struggle the Gujarati and the overseer had shifted their ground, and at this moment, fortunately for Desmond, Fuzl Khan had driven his knife into his old oppressor’s heart. But the same accident that saved Desmond’s life gave Diggle an opportunity of which he was quick to avail himself. Before Desmond could recover his footing, Diggle shortened his arm and was about to drive his sword through the lad’s heart. The Gujarati saw the movement. Springing in with uplifted knife he attempted to turn the blade. He succeeded; he struck it upwards, but the force with which he had thrown himself between the two swordsmen was his undoing. Unable to check his rush, he received the point of Diggle’s sword in his throat. With a terrible cry he raised his hands to clutch his assailant; but his strength failed him; he swayed, tottered, and fell gasping at Desmond’s feet, beside the lifeless overseer. Desmond saw that the turn of fortune had given the opportunity to him. He sprang forward as Diggle tried to recover his sword Diggle gave way: and before he could lift his dripping weapon to parry the stroke, Desmond’s blade was through his forearm. Panting with rage he sought with his left hand to draw his pistol; but Desmond was beforehand with him. He caught his arm, wrenched the pistol from him, and, breathless with his exertions, said: "You are my prisoner." "’Tis fate, my young friend," said Diggle, with all his old blandness; Desmond never ceased to be amazed at the self-command of this extraordinary man. "I have let some blood, I perceive; my sword-arm is for the time disabled; but my great regret at this moment--you will understand the feeling--is that this gallant friend of yours lies low with the wound intended for another. So Antores received in his flank the lance hurled at Lausus: ’infelix alieno volnere’." "I dare say, Mr. Diggle," interrupted Desmond, "but I have no time to construe Latin." Covering Diggle with his pistol, Desmond stooped over Fuzl Khan’s prostrate body and discovered in a moment that the poor fellow’s heart had ceased to beat. He rose, and added: "I must trouble you to come with me; and quickly, for you perceive you are at my mercy." "Where do you propose to take me, my friend?" "We will go this way, and please step out."