A
bystander, had there been one, could not have seen what was
finally done or how it was done. Father Beret's sword seemed to be
revolving--it was a halo in front of Hamilton for a mere point of
time. The old priest seemed to crouch and then make a quick motion
as if about to leap backward. A wrench and a snip, as of something
violently jerked from a fastening, were followed by a semicircular
flight of Hamilton's rapier over Father Beret's head to stick in
the ground ten feet behind him. The duel was over, and the whole
terrible struggle had occupied less than three minutes.
With his wrist strained and his fingers almost broken, Hamilton
stumbled forward and would have impaled himself had not Father
Beret turned the point of his weapon aside as he lowered it.
"Surrender, or die!"
That was a strange order for a priest to make, but there could be
no mistaking its authority or the power behind it. Hamilton
regained his footing and looked dazed, wheezing and puffing like a
porpoise, but he clearly understood what was demanded of him.
"If you call out I'll run you through," Father Beret added, seeing
him move his lips as if to shout for help.
The level rapier now reinforced the words. Hamilton let the breath
go noiselessly from his mouth and waved his hand in token of
enforced submission.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" he demanded after a short
pause.
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