The insulting expression of Crofts' features changed suddenly as I spoke, the color left his cheek, and he became as pale as death; his eye wandered round the room with an uncertain look, and then was fixed steadfastly on the door, against which I stood firmly planted. At length his face recovered its wonted character, and he said, in a cool, distinct manner,-- “Your difficulties have made you bold, sir.” “Not more bold than you 'll find me whenever you think fit to call on me. But perhaps I am wrong for suggesting a test, which report, at least, says Captain Crofts has little predilection for.” “Insolent cub!” said he, half drawing his sword from the scabbard, and as hastily replacing it when he perceived that I never moved a muscle in my defence, but stood as if inviting his attack. “Let me pass, sir,” cried he, impetuously; “stand by this instant.” I made no reply, but crossing my arms on my breast, stared at him firmly as before. He had now advanced within a foot of me, his face purple with passion, and his hands trembling with rage. “Let me pass, I say!” shouted he, in an accent that boded his passion had completely got the ascendant. At the same instant he seized me by the collar, and fixing his grip firmly in my clothes, prepared to hurl me from the spot. The moment had now come that for some minutes past I had been expecting, and with my open hand I struck him on the cheek, but so powerfully that he reeled back with the stroke. A yell of rage burst from him, and in an instant his sword leaped from the scabbard, and he darted fiercely at me. I sprang to one side, and the weapon pierced the door and broke off short; still, more than half the blade remained, and with this he flew towards me. One quick glance I gave to look for something which might serve to arm me; and the same moment the sharp steel pierced my side, and I fell backwards with the shock, carrying my antagonist along with me. The struggle was now a dreadful one; for while he endeavored to withdraw the weapon from the wound, my hands were on his throat, and in his strained eyeballs and livid color might be seen that a few seconds more must decide the contest. A sharp pang shot through me. Just then a hot gush of warm blood ran down my side, and I saw above me the shining steel, which he was gradually shortening in his hand before he ventured to strike. A wild cry broke from me; while at the instant, with a crash, the door of the room fell forward, torn from its hinges. A heavy foot approached, and the blow of a strong arm felled Crofts to the earth, where he lay stunned and senseless. In a second I was on my feet. My senses were reeling and uncertain; but I could see that it was Darby who came to my rescue, and who was now binding a sash round my wound to stanch the blood. “Now for it,--life or death 's on it now,” said he, in a low but distinct whisper. “Wipe the blood from your face, and be calm as you can when you're passing the sentry.”