Rassendyll, never thinking there had been
a trick.
"Ay, and you'll truss me while I do it."
"You young fool, don't you know me yet?" and Rudolf, lowering his
blade, rested its point on the floor, while with his left hand he
indicated Rupert's weapon. Yet something warned him: it may be
there came a look in Rupert's eyes, perhaps of scorn for his
enemy's simplicity, perhaps of pure triumph in the graceless
knavery. Rudolf stood waiting.
"You swear you won't touch me while I pick it up?" asked Rupert,
shrinking back a little, and thereby getting an inch or two
nearer the mantelpiece.
"You have my promise: pick it up. I won't wait any longer."
"You won't kill me unarmed?" cried Rupert, in alarmed scandalized
expostulation.
"No; but--"
The speech went unfinished, unless a sudden cry were its ending.
And, as he cried, Rudolf Rassendyll, dropping his sword on the
ground, sprang forward. For Rupert's hand had shot out behind him
and was on the butt of one of the revolvers. The whole trick
flashed on Rudolf, and he sprang, flinging his long arms round
Rupert. But Rupert had the revolver in his hand.
In all likelihood the two neither heard nor heeded, though it
seemed to me that the creaks and groans of the old stairs were
loud enough to wake the dead.
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