It is his power, not his will,
that I doubt. I do not feel certain; far from it, I regard the
issue as doubtful; and yet I feel a strong confidence in the
result; for you must know, Master Dillon, that Rupert Holliday, boy
as he is, is probably the best swordsman in the British army."
"Rupert Holliday!" ejaculated Dillon, incredulously.
Lord Fairholm nodded.
"It is as I say, Dillon; and although they say this German is also
the best in his, his people are in no way famous that way. Had it
been with the best swordsman in the French army that Rupert had to
fight, my mind would be less at ease.
"But come now, we have finished our liquor and may as well be off.
We are the centre of all eyes here, and it is not pleasant to be a
general object of pity, even when that pity is ill bestowed.
Besides, I have promised to be at home to wait for Muller's second.
"I will come round to your quarters, Rupert, when I have arranged
time and place."
The calm and assured manner of Rupert's two friends did more to
convince Dillon that they were speaking in earnest, and that they
really had confidence in Rupert's skill, than any asseveration on
their part could have done, but he was still astounded at the news
that this boy friend of his, who had never even mentioned that he
could fence, could by any possibility be not only a first-rate
swordsman, but actually a fair match for this noted duellist.
Upon the way up to the barracks, Rupert persuaded his friend to say
nothing as to his skill, but it was found impossible to remain
silent, for when the officers heard of the approaching duel there
was a universal cry of indignation, and the colonel at once avowed
his intention of riding off to Lord Athlone to request him to put a
stop to a duel which could be nothing short of murder.
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