The Viscount waved them back, as also he did the surgeon, who hastened to perform his office. "'Tis a touch only," said he hoarsely, breathing heavily, "on guard, sir, that we may finish quickly." And now their positions were reversed. Instead of acting on the defensive, Effingston in turn became the assailant, regaining his lost ground, and forcing Sir Thomas back, step by step. Maddened at thus losing vantage ground Winter's calmness failed him; he made a sudden thrust forward, and it being parried, lost his footing, the blade of his rapier ringing against the hilt of the other ere he could regain guard. A cry arose to the lips of Rookwood, for he thought the other would show no mercy; but before he could utter a sound, Effingston, with a quick turn of the wrist, sent the opposing sword ringing to the ground, leaving his enemy weaponless before him. For an instant Winter recoiled as if in fear of the thrust which he was now powerless to avert. A scornful smile passed over the pale features of the victor. "'Tis thus I would deal with such as thou," said he haughtily, and, pushing his sword into its scabbard, he took up Sir Thomas' rapier, and breaking it across his knee, tossed the pieces contemptuously aside. "Come!" said he as his second threw a cloak about him. "Our matters are ended." Then saluting with grave courtesy the four Catholic gentlemen, he left the garden, followed by his companions. CHAPTER IX. GARNET AND THE KING. Toward the decline of the tenth day following the meeting of Viscount Effingston and Sir Thomas Winter in the garden of the Gentleman-Pensioner, four men might have been seen riding through one of the stretches of woodland used by the King as a hunting ground and known as the forest of Waltham. Although light still lingered, a gloom was gathering over the countryside, and within the precincts of the forest the first shades of evening warned the horsemen that ere many hours the cheerless twilight which prevailed in England at that period of the year, would find them outside the gates of London. Of the four, three were gentlemen; the other seemed to be more a soldier than a cavalier. The trappings of his horse were less rich than those of his companions, the texture of his cloak was of poorer quality, and he bestrode the saddle after the manner of one inured to rough riding, when business took precedence of pleasure, a custom not commonly followed among the gentry of the kingdom. His companions were so muffled in their cloaks as to hide both dress and features. Each wore at his side a long rapier, and from their holsters appeared the metal-marked butts of pistols, ready to hand should sudden danger assail them.