He was strong, expert, and game to the middle of his heart.
"I'll add a traitor Jesuit to my list of dead," he panted forth, rising yet again to the extremest tension of his power.
As he did this Father Beret settled himself as you have seen a mighty horse do in the home stretch of a race.

Both men knew that the moment had arrived for the final act in their impromptu play.

It was short, a duel condensed and crowded into fifteen seconds of time, and it was rapid beyond the power of words to describe.

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.